Mobster's Gamble

Chapter 1

Anya

I hate it how he keeps the room so cold that I have to burrow under the covers. There is always a spot on my back that gets a chill no matter how deeply I bury myself. The alternative is using him as a shield from the breeze. I'll never do that. I don't want to be close to him. I won't let him take everything from me. He already has almost all of my free will.

On my side with a pillow caressing my head, I can see his back. A fine canvas of porcelain skin decorated with blackened ruins--etched and beautiful on the flesh of Priest. I guess when you're in control you can call yourself anything you want. Nothing is more powerful than fear. That is one shred of wisdom I will take with me into eternity. It is a sad lesson to learn over twenty-one years.

He really is beautiful with his jet black hair, finely chiseled cheeks, and sexy five o'clock shadow. I never get over that fact, he is part angel and part fiend. Can you admire a person and hate them at the same time? It must be possible.

He stirs; he's going to be turning over. That's my cue to flip over as well and hope that he is just shifting in his sleep. I don't want to look him in the face. I readjust the covers and pull up my feet to my chest in a comforting position looking out the window on the other side of the room. Bare tree branches line the panes making everything seem one dimensional, like my life.

A hand touches my arm and I stiffen immediately.

"Let me look at you." Priest nudges me to face him. I purse my lips in frustration and allow myself to ease onto my back. He slips the covers away and my nipples harden immediately from the icy air. He runs his fingers gently over them. My body betrays me as a slight shock of white lightening rocks my belly. What has he done to me? His hand smoothly dances over my sensitive skin to my face until he finds my long brown hair. He tugs on the wavy locks just enough to move me closer to him. He leans down and sucks my breast into his mouth—his hot breath mixes with my cold skin and I can't help but lean into him for warmth.

"That's right, Anya," he mumbles against me. "Give yourself to the Priest."

He forces his arm around my waist and pulls me in until all of me is touching all of him. Acid builds in the back of my throat as his hardened dick flops against my bare leg. He is getting ready. It's going to happen. I just have to get through the next few minutes. Once it starts, he doesn't take long. That is one thing I can be thankful for. I make a huge mistake by opening my eyes and see his sharp blue ones' inches a way he is a tried and true lover. But there is only one lover in this room. The one who loves only himself.

He settles on top of me and spreads my legs with his own. For some reason, I am braver today and keep my eyes open. I stare at him, the blue chilling me more than the air and realize I am wrong. There is no lover in this room. He doesn't know what love is and for myself, I will never love anyone. He has broken me. He has chipped away everything that I would have ever been bit by bit, year by year, decade after decade. I was born into this life--a prison of the most wicked kind. My crime?

Being born beautiful.

*****

The hot spray of the shower feels wonderful. It warms up my cold body and washes away the traces of him left behind. I step out onto the plushy rug beside the tub and dry myself slowly, stalling. This rug is one of the few luxuries I have been given by being Priest's consort. I saw it when we went on a run for supplies at the local department store. It's truly pretty with long shaggy fibers that tickle your toes. I asked to purchase it but Priest gave me a firm no. I never mentioned it again but a week later I went to the bathroom in Priest's suite off the main house and there it was lying flush against the white tub with the tag still on it.

It's Priest's messed up way of apologizing. The whole previous week before I walked around with two bruised ribs and a gash under my eye from when he hit me. His ring cut my face. That was the most I have ever bled. It just kept coming. Red poured out from the tender layer of skin. That frightened me more than any other injury over the past years. I thought I was going to bleed to death. Priest sort of freaked out too. I've never seen him get like that. He actually looked remorseful and worried. In the end, I needed six stitches and have a tiny scar left behind. When you are close to my face, you can definitely see it. I was lucky that an Anointed member knew how to stitch up skin—a plain needle and a fine thread did the trick.

On the bed is our only acceptable clothing for a woman of Anointed Heavens-- simple white blouse and pants. I dress quickly not wanting to be punished for being late for the gathering downstairs. Over my clothes, I lift my blue robe off the bed and slip it over my head. In the mirror, the embroidered letters that read Anointed Heavens is backwards and distorted in the reflection.

I hate the demonstrations. After being trapped here for so long, I have decided that everyone should live they way they want. Let them face the maker on their terms, why should we be the ones to get involved. We parade ourselves in front of less savory establishments, ones that go against the beliefs of the ministry like clubs, casinos, bars. Priest wants me to hand out pamphlets today. He wants to see if we can recruit right off one of the main drag in Chicago while keeping people from submitting to the bewitchment of the charlatans that own the casino which has been our mission for the past few days.

La Bella Regale is one of the most popular and revered casinos in Chicago. It's beautiful too. It has an European elegance mixed with a contemporary flair that makes it pleasing to the eye. I have always wanted to go inside. I bet it's amazing and glorious in beauty. It's sort of a tease to have to stand outside it and rally against its principles.