Page 87 of The Diávolos: Part Two
Even though his initial look made Iris uneasy, she doesn’t tear her gaze away from him. His demeanor, confidence and somewhat arrogance areattractive. There aren’t a lot of men that pass through these walls, so she tries to justify the feeling in her gut with the lack of testosterone in the place, but she’s never had a reaction this strong. Ever.
Lydia pokes Iris through her robe. “We should get going before someone else notices us here.”
She’s right, they should go, but Iris can’t make herself move.
“Come on, Iris,” Lydia insists.
Iris follows her back to the staircase. Right before setting her foot on the first step, she glances back, and the man is staring ather intently. A shiver runs down her spine. Lydia grabs her hand and leads her up, and he disappears from their view.
The next few days are a daze.
Iris can’t stop thinking of the man from the basement. She shouldn’t be having thoughts about him, but she can’t help herself. She catches sight of him in the corridors and courtyard, but they never talk. Regardless, those small glances mean a lot to Iris, who has never had any experiences with men before.
In her eighteen years of existence, she’s never once had…urges. But the way he stares at Iris denudes her, and she can’t stop herself from picturing his hands all over her untouched body.
As sisters, they are taught that having sexual desires is wrong. That they should be in their purest forms for God and those they worship. Sisters must remain level-headed and focused on their path. Acting on their impulses will only steer them away from the goal—to obey and not question the word of the Lord and to train those beneath them to be good girls, wives, child bearers.
Iris never grew up in a religious household, but she remembers snippets of her mother teaching her the importance of having faith. That’s what has kept her sane in this place for four years already.
Iris shudders as she allows the memories to resurface, the distant echoes of a haunting chapter in her past. At the tender age of fourteen, she was thrust into a nightmare that she could never have anticipated. The recollection of being kidnapped sends chills down her spine, like a cold gust of wind that refuses to be forgotten.
But Iris found solace in the support systems she has cultivated over the years. The trauma of her past gradually lost its grip, replaced by the empowering embrace of those who cared for her—her sisters—and her faith.
In three years, Iris will be sworn in as a nun and will start her real work. None of them truly knows what that entails, as they only get their assignments once they’re initiated, but she’s excited for the next step.
“You’ve been so quiet in the last few days,” Lydia notices.
Iris glances up at her from her uneaten lunch platter. Since that night in the basement, she’s been in a trance-like state. Playing with the food on her plate, she replies, “Really? It’s not on purpose. I’m just…”
“Mesmerized by that mysterious dungeon man,” she finishes with an amused glint in her eyes.
“Am not!” Iris laughs. “I’ve been having…thoughts,and it’s making me feel weird.” She hopes Lydia will understand without having to add anything else. Lydia is three years older, her twenty-first birthday fast approaching. Iris is sure she’s been through this before.
“Ah, yes! You’ve been bewitched by the dick,” Lydia exclaims, and Iris’s eyes grow wide.
Iris looks around, frantic. “Oh my God, Lyd! Anyone could’ve heard that. Do you know how much trouble we could be in for even talking about this?”
Her friend rolls her eyes. “Calm down. There’s no one here other than that other table, and they’re too far to have heard anything,” she brushes off with a wave.
Iris inhales and exhales a few times to calm her racing pulse. “So, you’ve had these…feelingsbefore?”
“Of course! And it’s about time. I thought you were an anomaly.” Lydia chuckles.
“What do you mean? Was I supposed to feel like this before?”
“Well, many of us have had these urges soon after hitting puberty. It’s normal. They make us think it’s wrong to have these regular human reactions, but it’s not. Some of us even feel that way toward each other.”
“You mean toward other sisters?” Iris asks, shock written all over her face.
Lydia laughs out loud. “My sweet girl. I havesomuch to explain to you.”
After a full rundown from Lydia about sexuality, Iris wakes up the next morning with an incessant pang between her legs. It’s still dark in her room. Her core is throbbing, and she doesn’t know how to get rid of the ache. She had a dream that she can’t remember, but it left her breathless and hot. If this is what it’s going to be like from now on, Iris feels ready to end it all. How is she supposed to survive being thishorny? A new word Iris learned last night, courtesy of her best friend.
A feeling of unsettlement wells inside her. If this man takes over as Dean anytime soon, Iris will be utterly fucked. She won’t be able to focus and will definitely get in trouble.
Half asleep, Iris gets out of bed, rubbing her eyes as her feet touch the cold floor of the bedroom. It’s a small space, only filled by a bed, a small night table, a desk and chair, and wardrobe. There’s an adjoining private bathroom too.
Everything she has is confined to these four walls, to these grounds that they’re not allowed to step outside of. It’s like they’re in prison. A very prestigious one.
