Page 492 of Reign

The woman passes without looking at us, her head lowered as she moves toward the side aisle.

“The hem is fighting for its life, that color washes her out. I would have put her in pink,” Elena whispers.

A laugh threatens. I disguise it as a cough.

Judging strangers has somehow become one of our favorite pastimes. I can’t decide whether Elena has made me a chismoso or simply encouraged me to be honest about the person I already was.

Either way, I love when she does it.

The other side of the confessional opens. A priest steps out with his head bowed.

He moves slowly, almost meekly, his shoulders held in a way that makes him seem smaller than he is.

My body recognizes him before my mind finishes placing the collar around his throat.

Every muscle in my back tightens. It’s an impressive performance.

At six foot six, Hale Pierce is the rare man who stands an inch taller than I do. Nothing about him should disappear inside a room.

Yet the black clerical shirt, white collar, and careful posture make him look subdued. Reformed. Safe.

Blond hair falls over his forehead. Old scars sit pale against one side of his face. His eyes are some light color, but that has never mattered. They look dark because there is nothing warm behind them.

Hale Pierce came to Elite under the guise of wanting to become a Dom.

At first, I believed he might simply be a sadist. That alone wouldn’t have concerned me. Elite has sadists. People who enjoy giving pain and submissives who enjoy receiving it. Every scene is discussed. Every limit is respected. Consent is the line separating pleasure from assault.

Pierce never cared about the line.

He learned the language quickly. Negotiation. Limits. Safewords. Aftercare. He knew every correct answer and understood none of them. A Dom watches a submissive’s reactions to keep them safe. Pierce watched for the moment fear became real.

That was the part he wanted.

The violence mattered more than the person beneath his hands. Whether they agreed to it was merely a detail he tolerated until he didn’t.

The moment I had enough proof, I removed him myself and banned him from every club I own.

He left smiling.

The last I heard, Pierce was pursuing some form of reformation.

I suppose, this is what he chose.

“Elena.”

She looks up at me. “What?”

“Go back to the car.”

Her brows pull together. “But we’re supposed to meet the priest.”

“We have.”

She follows my stare.

Pierce raises his head.

Recognition moves through his expression without warming it. His eyes settle on me, then shift to Elena.