I was still staring at the hallway when Kisten walked past. He backpedaled to a stop as he saw me there with a blank look on my face.

“I’ll wait in the sanctuary,” he said. “Is that okay with you?”

“Sure,” I whispered.

His eyebrows rose, and with that same little smile, he ate an almond. “Okay.” Kisten vanished down the dark hallway, his boots silent on the hardwood floor.

I turned away and stared at the night-blackened window. I counted to ten. I counted to ten again. I counted to ten a third time, finding myself in the hallway by the time I reached seven. I’ll go in, say my piece, and leave, I promised myself when I found him at the piano, his back to me as he sat on the bench. He pulled himself straight as my feet scuffed to a halt.

“Nick is a good man,” I said, my voice shaking.

“Nick is a good man,” he agreed, not turning around.

“He makes me feel wanted, needed.”

Kisten slowly spun. His stubble caught the faint light filtering in from the street. The outline of his wide shoulders tapered down to his slim waist, and I mentally shook myself at how good he looked. “He used to.” His low, smooth voice sent a shiver through me.

“I don’t want you to talk about him anymore,” I said.

He gazed at me for a heartbeat, then said, “Okay.”

“Good.” I took a quick breath, turned and walked out.

My knees were shaking, and listening for any steps behind me, I took a right into my room. Heart pounding, I reached for my perfume. The one that hid my scent.

“Don’t.”

Gasping, I turned, finding Kisten behind me. Ivy’s bottle slipped from my fingers. His hand darted out, and I jumped as it enfolded mine, imprisoning the precious bottle safe within my grip. I froze. “I like the way you smell,” he whispered, far, far too close.

My stomach clenched. I could risk bringing Al down on me by tapping a line to knock him unconscious, but I didn’t want to. “You need to get out of my bedroom,” I said.

His blue eyes looked black in the dim light. The faint glow from the kitchen made him an alluring, dangerous shadow. My shoulders were so tense they hurt as he opened my hand and took the perfume from me. The click as it hit my dresser jerked me straight. “Nick isn’t coming back,” he said, unaccusing and blunt.

My breath slipped from me, and I closed my eyes. Oh God. “I know.”

My eyes jerked open when he took my elbows. I froze, waiting for my scar to flash into play, but it didn’t. He wasn’t trying to bespell me. A foolish part of me respected that, and like an idiot, I did nothing instead of telling him to get the hell out of my church and away from me.

“You need to be needed, Rachel,” he said, inches away as his breath shifted my hair. “You live so brightly, so honestly, that you need to be needed. You’re hurting. I can feel it.”