Page 17 of The Fallen

The other Sisters probably don’t notice because mine is a feminine scent like their own. But then, I haven’t been able to tell any change in him. It probably means these consuming lusts are all one-sided. Somehow, that thought is far more depressing than it has any right to be.

I should be happy I’m not causing him to stumble the same way he is me. Shaking my head, I force myself to concentrate as I go through the motions of Mass. When it’s time to kneel at the altar for the Eucharist, I’m nearly beside myself.

The need to touch him, to have him touch me, and more importantly, to have him punish me for these thoughts racing through my mind, pour through me like acid on a wound. I can’t show any weakness. I can’t give Mother Superior or the Abbess cause to drag me away, not when he’s so close.

As he brings over the bread, I cross and accept it.

“The Body of Christ, The Bread of Life.” Somehow his voice is deeper, fuller.

It washes over me, swamping me until I can’t see straight. I hold the morsel in my palm, desperate to have him place it in my mouth again. Will he touch me like last time? Will he bring up the same immoral desires?

“The Blood of Christ, the Cup of Salvation.”

My heart pounds so hard in my chest it’s all I can hear. The rapid staccato pounds in my brain, washing away everything else. When I open my mouth to receive the Holy Communion, I watch his eyes.

Dark edges out the blue until they’re nearly black, like a demon set to devour me. Even though it’s faint, I can almost detect a change in his scent. There’s a char there, a warmth, like a crackling fire wafting from his body and curling around me.

I make it back to my pew with little issue, but all I can think about is seeing him in his chambers once more. After he dismisses us, I make my way over to him, keeping Mother Superior in my eyeline. She watches me, her gaze narrowing on me as she studies us like an ant under a magnifying glass.

“If I may, Father Confessor. I wish to obtain absolution.”

“Shall we go to the confessional?”

“I-” Again, I look over my shoulder as the older woman crosses her arms. “I fear more may be needed than mere words.”

“I see.” With a firm nod, he strides over to her and whispers in her ear.

What they talk about, I cannot hear or even make out. But soon, he comes back my way and cups my elbow in his hand. Mother Superior gives me a sympathetic smile and leaves the room.

“What did you tell her?”

“The truth. That you need absolution, and it is my duty to grant it to you.”

We’re both silent as we make our way to his chambers. Do I dare play with fire like this again? Unfortunately, he takes the option away with his dark growl.

“Now then, does this mean your naughty fingers have been busy?”

“No, Father Confessor.”

“Oh?” His brows shoot up in surprise. “Then why have you come seeking absolution?”

“It’s complicated.” Now that I’m here in his presence, I’m not even sure what to say.

Everything feels jumbled in my head. Juvenile, naïve. But then, that’s what I am. I’m nothing but a child to a man like he is. Still though, as he circles me, his eyes darkening with every pass, I can’t help but wonder if I’m also right. That he has illicit thoughts for me like I do him.

“I cannot stop thinking about you.”

He stops and stares at me but says nothing for a moment. “And the nature of these thoughts?”

“They... They make me want to sin.”

“Sin how, exactly?” This time, it’s my turn to be quiet. “I cannot give you absolution if you do not confess. Come now, Sister. Open those pretty little lips of yours and confess your sins to me.”

“It makes me want to touch myself,” I blurt out before slamming my hands over my traitorous lips.

“I see. So that naughty clit of yours is due some discipline? Is that what I’m hearing?”

My voice is hoarse, rasping as I nod my head. “Yes, Father Confessor. Please. Please punish me.”

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