their heart. It made no difference if she was a stranger
or…
If she were my
angel.
I took her hand,
and the mistake burned through me.
Her breathing
shuddered, but she said nothing. That made it worse. My blood boiled, raged, and
plummeted from my head and into the wickedness below.
I truly was a
monster.
Her lips trembled,
parted. The timid pink of her tongue gently licked her bottom lip—not in crass
seduction, but in soft nervousness.
The things I would
have done to that lip, her tongue, the fears and burdens she hid. Honor
deserved nothing but pleasured bliss and quivering breath.
I wasn’t the man to
give it, but if I wasn’t careful, I’d be the one who took it.
Honor squeezed my
fingers, staring at our entwined hands. Light against dark. Right against
wrong.
Man and woman.
Priest and flock.
Honor’s eyes
fluttered shut, and I was helpless to resist the only urge I trusted. I had to
touch the silken skin of her cheek.
But I couldn’t do
it. Instead, I palmed the back of her hand. Her own fingers caressed her cheek,
and I pressed through her, envious of her touch. Her hand acted as a barrier,
but I could feel her trembling. Sense her warmth.
I stared at her
lips.
This was not a
terrible and vile seduction. Not all of it. Soft words. Confessed feelings. It
jeopardized my collar, my vows, my everything, but she opened to me, and I
understood her.
Honor met my gaze.
She whispered her fears, worries, burdens to me.
Should I have felt
so proud?
So fortunate ?
“My Dad loved my
mother,” she said. “He took care of her every day while she was sick, even when
she was at her worst.”
“Did you love
him?”
“Yes. Very much.
He’s gone now…” She leaned into our hands. “But you already know that, don’t
you? You’re the priest of this parish. I’m sure you know a lot about everyone.”
It was true. “I
wait for them to tell me before I ask questions.”
“Well…” Honor
sighed. “I can tell you this…my dad never got to see my mom sober. He died
before this change happened. That doesn’t seem fair.”
“I understand.”
“I don’t think you
can.” Her eyes closed as the heat from our hands caressed us both. “What about
you, Father? Where’s your family?”
I dropped my hand.
My stomach
twisted, and I banished the thoughts, the desires.
And damned the
disgusting hardness that threatened to tent the black robes I wore.
I would not
surrender to my primal needs. I was stronger than that.
I prayed I was
stronger than I thought I was.
“My family
is…around.” I shifted, placing two imaginary bibles between us. It shamed her.
That was not my intention.
Honor smirked,
forcing a joke. “You’ve seen my family. What’s yours like? Wanna trade?”
“You don’t want to
trade with me.”
Her smile faded,
and I owed her more than that, especially as she finally opened up to me.
But my story was
practiced, almost wooden. I doubted she could hear it. Only a man who devoted
his life to listening for the unspoken might have heard the resentment.
“I’m the youngest
of eight.”
“Whoa.”
I shrugged. “Roman
Catholic.”
“Right. Wow.”
“My brothers and
sisters are much older than me—by at least six years. I don’t really see them
often. They live everywhere across the country. Two in New York, one here in
Pittsburgh, one stationed in Germany, one in Dallas, one in San Jose, and
one…well, he hasn’t corresponded with us for a while. Last I heard he was in
jail.”
“I’m sorry.” Honor
shrugged. “Did any of them go into the clergy?”
If only. It might
have helped.
“No. I’m the only
one with a calling.”
“What about your
parents?”
“My mother
is…still shocked I became a priest.”
“And your father?”
“He’s not devout.”
“No?”
“He has no fear of
Hell.”
I thought I hid
the dark spite in my words, but Honor flinched nevertheless.
Since when was I
such a terrible priest? An angel like her had nothing to
or…
If she were my
angel.
I took her hand,
and the mistake burned through me.
Her breathing
shuddered, but she said nothing. That made it worse. My blood boiled, raged, and
plummeted from my head and into the wickedness below.
I truly was a
monster.
Her lips trembled,
parted. The timid pink of her tongue gently licked her bottom lip—not in crass
seduction, but in soft nervousness.
The things I would
have done to that lip, her tongue, the fears and burdens she hid. Honor
deserved nothing but pleasured bliss and quivering breath.
I wasn’t the man to
give it, but if I wasn’t careful, I’d be the one who took it.
Honor squeezed my
fingers, staring at our entwined hands. Light against dark. Right against
wrong.
Man and woman.
Priest and flock.
Honor’s eyes
fluttered shut, and I was helpless to resist the only urge I trusted. I had to
touch the silken skin of her cheek.
But I couldn’t do
it. Instead, I palmed the back of her hand. Her own fingers caressed her cheek,
and I pressed through her, envious of her touch. Her hand acted as a barrier,
but I could feel her trembling. Sense her warmth.
I stared at her
lips.
This was not a
terrible and vile seduction. Not all of it. Soft words. Confessed feelings. It
jeopardized my collar, my vows, my everything, but she opened to me, and I
understood her.
Honor met my gaze.
She whispered her fears, worries, burdens to me.
Should I have felt
so proud?
So fortunate ?
“My Dad loved my
mother,” she said. “He took care of her every day while she was sick, even when
she was at her worst.”
“Did you love
him?”
“Yes. Very much.
He’s gone now…” She leaned into our hands. “But you already know that, don’t
you? You’re the priest of this parish. I’m sure you know a lot about everyone.”
It was true. “I
wait for them to tell me before I ask questions.”
“Well…” Honor
sighed. “I can tell you this…my dad never got to see my mom sober. He died
before this change happened. That doesn’t seem fair.”
“I understand.”
“I don’t think you
can.” Her eyes closed as the heat from our hands caressed us both. “What about
you, Father? Where’s your family?”
I dropped my hand.
My stomach
twisted, and I banished the thoughts, the desires.
And damned the
disgusting hardness that threatened to tent the black robes I wore.
I would not
surrender to my primal needs. I was stronger than that.
I prayed I was
stronger than I thought I was.
“My family
is…around.” I shifted, placing two imaginary bibles between us. It shamed her.
That was not my intention.
Honor smirked,
forcing a joke. “You’ve seen my family. What’s yours like? Wanna trade?”
“You don’t want to
trade with me.”
Her smile faded,
and I owed her more than that, especially as she finally opened up to me.
But my story was
practiced, almost wooden. I doubted she could hear it. Only a man who devoted
his life to listening for the unspoken might have heard the resentment.
“I’m the youngest
of eight.”
“Whoa.”
I shrugged. “Roman
Catholic.”
“Right. Wow.”
“My brothers and
sisters are much older than me—by at least six years. I don’t really see them
often. They live everywhere across the country. Two in New York, one here in
Pittsburgh, one stationed in Germany, one in Dallas, one in San Jose, and
one…well, he hasn’t corresponded with us for a while. Last I heard he was in
jail.”
“I’m sorry.” Honor
shrugged. “Did any of them go into the clergy?”
If only. It might
have helped.
“No. I’m the only
one with a calling.”
“What about your
parents?”
“My mother
is…still shocked I became a priest.”
“And your father?”
“He’s not devout.”
“No?”
“He has no fear of
Hell.”
I thought I hid
the dark spite in my words, but Honor flinched nevertheless.
Since when was I
such a terrible priest? An angel like her had nothing to
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