The Outliers (The Outskirts Duet #2)

“Religion number nine sounds amazing,” I admitted, moving toward the door like the music was drawing me inside.

“Wait until you hear how it sounds from the inside,” Finn said, opening the double doors. The melody exploded all around us and immediately I had goosebumps on my skin and a feeling of pure joy in my heart. We sat in the back row so as not to disturb the two dozen or so other people in attendance.

The inside of the church wasn’t very church like at all. It was void of stained glass or depictions of the stations of the cross or the Virgin Mary. This was a simple yellow room with several rows of white folding chairs on each side of the makeshift aisle. The walls were decorated with brightly colored children finger paints along with bulletin birds with various flyers pinned to it.

The music was coming from a small band set up in the front corner of the room. A young woman wearing ripped jeans and a Guns-N-Roses tank top, who looked to be about my age, was the one singing into a microphone on a stand. Her voice was melodic but haunting all at the same time. We sat in the back row and listened. I was immediately mesmerized by her voice and by her words.



We sing for love and love alone.

Love is what will always bring us home.

We live for light but darkness still looms.

It’s our light within that will chase away the feeling of doom.



“Wow,” I whispered, feeling goosebumps on my skin as well as on my soul.

Finn squeezed my hand.

When the song was over the pastor spoke about love and loss to the crowd. He was probably in his forties and he delivered his message with such compassion that my heart swelled in my chest. He also never stood at the front of the crowd or behind a podium. He surprised me by walking up and down the aisle making eye-contact with each person in attendance including myself and Finn.

When the service concluded Finn brought me up to meet Pastor Dave. “I’m going to let you two talk,” Finn said, excusing himself to go say hello to an older woman I’d seen before who he’d introduced to me a while back as an old friend of his mother's.

We sat in the front row in the now empty room. Pastor Dave was the first one to speak. “Finn told me about your situation and a little about your background. He also says that you’re between faiths right now.”

I laughed at his phrase. “I guess I never thought of it that way, but yes, in a way. I’m writing a blog, about different religions, their history, and what faith really is. I think maybe I’ll learn what it is along the way. I figured the best way to write about them is to experience them for myself.”

His smile was kind, showcasing the fine lines around his mouth. “I think that’s fantastic. Well, the CliffsNotes on us are that we are an interfaith church which means that we don’t accept any one faith is the ‘right’ faith or the one ‘true’ faith. What we do here is recognize that we are all brothers and sisters on this earth and that we are all in this together. That’s what we celebrate. People are too busy with the ‘right and wrongs’ of religion. They’re too caught up on the details. We focus on the goodness in our hearts because God lives in our hearts, not in the details.”

I thanked him for his time and contemplated his words as Finn joined me at the door. “Pastor Dave?” I asked.

He turned back around. “Yes?”

“Do you think it would be okay if I came to the service again next week?”

“We’d like nothing more than to have you Miss Sawyer.”

I smiled and Finn grabbed my hand. “That went well, huh?”

“Yes, yes it did.”

I didn’t know if I’d become a member of the church for the long term. All I knew was that Pastor Dave was right. God is the love in our hearts. And my heart? I looked up to Finn.

My heart was overflowing with all the stuff.

“Did I tell you that I decided on a name for the blog?” I asked Finn as we walked hand in hand.

“No, what did you decide.”

I stopped and turned to face him, craning my neck to look in his beautiful blue eyes.

“The religious adventures of Sawyer and Finn.”





Up in Smoke





A KING SEREIS NOVEL





Frankie

I steal my nerves by taking a deep breath.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Smoke bellows angrily as I appear before him wearing practically nothing.

“What?” I ask, using my most innocent voice. I glance down at my sheer black bra and matching panties. “You don’t like what you see?” I sway my hips as I speak and press my teeth into my bottom lip.

Smoke scoffs, although I can see from the way his nostrils flare that I’m affecting him. “You're…cute," he says. The way he says cute is meant as an insult. "But I like women, not little girls like you." He waves his hand up and down my body, dismissively.

And while his words say one thing, his eyes say something completely different, because he gives my body another look, licking me up and down with his gaze, lingering on the scrap of fabric between my legs then up to the sheer triangles doing nothing to hide my nipples which rebel against me. Smoke watches them as they harden under his glare. He tries to hide his smirk but I see it before he can cover it.

“I’m not a little girl,” I argue. I take another step closer gathering my long silky hair over one shoulder. “And you’re lying, because if you didn’t like what you see, you wouldn’t be eye fucking me right now.” I try to remain confident, keeping up the fa?ade of the seductress. , I was terrified that he was late to call my bluff at any moment.

“Such big words for such a little girl,” Smoke said flippantly. He shifted on the couch spreading his long-sculpted legs just a bit wider, adjusting the tight denim at his knees.

“I’m not a little girl!” I shouted, taking a step forward in challenge before I stopped, reminding myself that I wasn’t supposed to be fighting with him. I was supposed to be seducing this man, and in turn, possibly saving my own life.

At least, that’s what the plan was.

Smoke’s perfect thick lips turn upward on the ends. He looks smug and infuriates me. Because, if this was a fight, he knows he just won the first round. My confidence waivers and suddenly standing in front of him feels more like exposure than seduction. But I can’t let him see my hesitation.

My life depends on it.

“What game are you playing at here?” he asks. I hate the amusement in his voice. More than that, I hate how my body responds to that voice.