Beauty and the Blitz (30 page)

He smirked. “I know.”

I figured as much. “Does it bother you?”

“I consider it another challenge to my collar. Believe me, Honor. Your friends are not the first to show some leg in exchange for a little
indulgence
.”

“Really?”

“Of course. And I’ve resisted each one.” His jaw tensed, a solid and forceful strike of strength across his stoic face. “Except for you.”

“I haven’t asked for any indulgences.”

“Which makes you all the more dangerous.”

The tenor finished his song. The next singer also began
Ava Maria
. Deacon Smith groaned, his head in his hands.

“Guys, we have more hymns! The church has been around for
two thousand years
.
Please
tell me someone knows another song.”

No one moved. Deacon Smith almost tore the rest of his hair out.

“
Honor
!” He pleaded for me. “Do you have a piece to sing that isn’t
Ava Maria
?”

The others scrambled over the pews to grab hymnals. I took a sheet of music from my duffle bag.

“Yeah, I have one,” I said, smiling as Father Raphael wished me good luck.

My leg brushed his as I edged from the pew. His fingertips grazed just behind my knee. The warmth cascaded into my core. Quick.
Fierce
.

I nearly weakened then, my legs wobbling as though they wished to fall to my knees before this man.

But Alyssa and Samantha’s cheers freed me from the chains binding my thoughts. I forced away dark images of writhing bodies and twisting sheets, but I couldn’t fight them for long.

I don’t know why I did it. I handed the music to the organist, and I took to the dais as dread and warmth dueled in my chest.

The first notes of
Pie Jesu
filled the sanctuary.

I chose the song because of him.

It was a foolish,
indulgent
idea, but nothing sounded more beautiful than the first note I sang. It rang through the nave, striking so softly, deftly, and beautifully against the stained glass and carved stone that I almost didn’t recognize my voice.

The notes stunned everyone.

Except Father Raphael.

I should’ve looked away.

I should’ve focused somewhere beyond him, away from his sanctifying and desecrating gaze.

I couldn’t.

And in my weakness, the hymn turned from solemn prayer into something dark and seductive, just for him. The song blended the beautiful with the corrupted, and my sultry notes struck with a pure vibrancy.

The scriptures spoke of singing in ecstasy—but this rapture contained nothing holy.

Father Raphael watched me. Every note, every sound, every breath carried for him. His jaw tightened. I hit a perfectly balanced note, so high and lovely it even gave me goose bumps.

But his hands turned to fists. He leaned forward against the pew before him.

I recognized that licentious look—that hunger. It was the same severe devotion to his vows he uttered when he’d captured me in his arms, when he’d adored me more than the Lord.

He had pinned me then. Held me tight and forced me to obey his commands.

This time, it was my turn. I sang, and he was struck as my prisoner. I became a siren, a sinner. My voice warmed, twisted, and seduced within a hidden harmony only he could hear.

It was wrong. Everything I did was
wrong
.

But he stared at me, bestowing an attention upon me that felt more like a gift than a curse. He didn’t leer at me as other men did, attempting to imagine what hid beneath my clothes. He searched for my soul, for my
innocence
.

And it trapped us on the precipice of dangerous and illicit pleasures.

I should have stopped the song. Every note forged an intimacy which was forbidden to us. I sang the words and imagined his lips upon mine, correcting my Latin in gentle tease. I breathed between the notes and sighed as every exhale might be twisted into a sigh and groan. Even the shivers on my skin crashed with the melody and teased as if they had been caused by his touch.

Could the choir tell?

Was it obvious?

My song was not a hymn of praise. I seduced a priest and tested his resistance to me.

Every chord ached deeper inside of me. I wetted under his attention. Whatever dark and secret desires knotted within me were released in song. When the music silenced and the choir applauded in amazement, I realized how foolish I’d been.

Father Raphael rose from the pews in silence. He left the sanctuary, his steps cracking against the stone and slamming my heart into my ribs.

The doors closed behind him.

I stepped from the dais and accepted my compliments from the others.

What was I to do?

The next person was called to sing. I walked to my seat, but I didn’t sit. I slipped from the sanctuary unnoticed, following in his footsteps to the adoration chapel.

He waited for me, silent and dark with a consecrated authority.

I stepped inside. The door closed behind me.

It was the first time the doors to the chapel had ever been locked.

And I had no idea what awaited me now that we were alone.

A
hymn of seduction
.

A song of a siren.

A cry for my help.

…Or a plea for my sin.

If I hadn’t known Honor came to me as an angel, I’d have feared the deception of the devil. Beauty was so often ruined with immorality, lusts of the flesh instead of praise for their blessing.

Honor enthralled me. Her presence wove through my mind and tangled in my soul.

I’d prayed with the rosaries during her song and beseeched any power—Mother Mary, Christ, my lost self—anyone who might have protected me from the thoughts temptation bred in my soul.

It hadn’t healed me of this obsession.

I trapped her in my church to feed the darkness within me. I no longer recognized myself or my urges, and I had no choice but to fight them. If we didn’t, if I surrendered to my instincts and sacrificed her beauty for my own selfish desires…

I wouldn’t be a priest.

I’d be a demon.

A monster.

And I wasn’t losing my soul, no matter what glorious satisfaction I might have seized.

The chapel darkened, unused for the moment. The red candle in the sanctuary lamp remained unlit. No spirit of Christ to protect us.

Honor slipped away, twisting as she refused to turn her back to me. My angel retreated, each step as deliberate and inviting as a curling finger beckoning me closer.

I twisted my fingers in the rosaries.

Hail Mary, full of grace…

Her lips parted, but she hadn’t spoken, not until she struck the altar.

It
had
to be the altar.

Why shouldn’t I adore her as I adored all else, set upon an altar as a sacrifice for everything that was me, my life, my vision…

The Lord is with thee…

“Forgive me, Father,” Honor gasped. Beautiful music, a soft song of penance. “The song was a mistake.”

I didn’t recognize the edge in my voice. I closed the distance between us in long strides, but even an arm’s length was too far for my aching body and too near for my fracturing soul.

“Did you sing it for me?”

Her nod was timid. “You said it was your favorite.”

“It is.”

“I should have just sung
Ava Maria
.” Honor ran a hand through her hair. The soft ebony curls tickled through her dark fingers like the holiest of waters. “I’m sorry, Father Rafe. I shouldn’t have…”

“I know why you did it.” It was the same reason I locked the door to the chapel. The key rested in my pocket. “It’s why we’re here. To answer for this sin.”

“Answer for it?” Honor met my gaze. “Or cause it?”

Blessed art thou among women…

I crossed myself. The truth haunted me, torn from my own confessions with a dire warning.

“You are my greatest challenge…” I motioned for her silence with a finger pressed to my lips. “But that does not make you wicked. It means you are a
woman
—beautiful and vibrant, honest and kind. Every inch of you begs for sin because it is sanctified by the light.”

I might’ve touched her then—run a hand along her high, proud cheekbones or delighted myself with a brush of her lips against my thumb.

But I resisted.

And I passed that first test.

“If I had not taken a vow…promised myself to a higher calling…” My words breathed in a heated sigh. “I’d cast myself upon my knees before you, Honor. I’d worship you as the angel of seduction that you are.”

Honor closed her eyes, but her voice didn’t waver. “I should go.”

“You must finish your confession first.”

“I…can’t.”

Another step closer. “Why? Afraid of what happened last time?”

We both shivered. I imagined her quiet touches again, the only image I couldn’t purge from my mind, my dreams, my torment.

Blessed is the fruit of thy womb…

Her whisper thrilled me in dark delight. “That’s exactly the reason I should go. These things we’re saying, the desires we have…”

They were ours and ours alone.

“Do you fear it?” I asked.

“Yes.”

She edged past me, aiming for the exit, another easy way to avoid this confrontation. She was stronger than this.

I’d prove it.

I reached the door before her, pushing a hand against it. Honor didn’t look at me. Her fingers trembled on the handle.

I leaned close. This woman was so tiny, so delicate and fragile, and yet…

So powerful.

A woman this lovely and holy would always attract darkness.

“Would you rather live in guilt, harbor this pain, and suffer in secret?” I whispered.

Honor didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I know how badly I want you.”

Jesus
.

I shamed myself by blocking her path. She stepped away from the door as my cassock created a wall of solid black, preventing her escape.

“It’s not a weakness to admit it,” she said.

I agreed. One fewer lesson to teach her.

Honor confronted me with the wrong type of confidence. “I don’t trust how I feel. I don’t understand it, and so I will remove the temptation before…anything happens.”

“Has that worked before?” I circled her. “Denying me? Ignoring me? Shielding yourself from me?”

She bit her lip. I stared at the softness, so plump and full, a soft brown that highlighted the gentle femininity of her body. We stood close enough to touch, but still I resisted. I breathed deeply instead.

Sweet apples.

Candied apples.

How could she possess such a dangerous scent? No incense would ever smell as sweet.

Would she taste just as decadent?

“What thoughts have you had, my angel? Confess them to me.”

Honor sighed. “Horrible, beautiful thoughts.”

“Of what?”

Her voice trembled, and I felt the divine warning in every syllable. “
You
.”

“Tell me.”

“Father, I can’t speak of such things inside a church.”

Holy Mary, mother of God…

“Confess to me.”

“Why?” Honor looked away. “Why confess when I will just think the same thoughts, again and again? I’ve confessed once, and it hasn’t helped.”

I shouldn’t have hardened.

Another reprimand, another penance.

“Have you transgressed again?” The fantasy teased me.

“No, Father. I didn’t do…
that
.”

A relief…and another challenge. Despite that wicked and unsavory sin, I was yet a man. And a man was vain and simple, requiring the compliment of lust to appease his pride.

“Has the thought tempted you?” I lowered my voice. “Have you wished to touch yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

She hesitated, too afraid to reveal the truth to the man and
priest
suffering from her shared desire.

And I answered for her.

“You ache at all hours…” I spoke from experience. “You’re hot, always. Desperate. Thinking only carnal and terrible thoughts.”

“Yes.”

“And who is with you in these thoughts?”

“You are, Father Raphael.”

Pray for us sinners…

“You want to feel my touch. Hear my words.”

Honor groaned. “This is
wrong
.”

“It is, because you realize how badly you wish to experience it. Can you imagine me? My lips on yours…my hands free to caress your body—celebrating you, sanctifying you, perfect and soft.”

“Why are you saying such things?”

“You don’t suffer alone.” I twisted the rosary in my hand, pinching hard until I was certain the beads imbedded into my skin. “You are my prayer now, Honor. Every joyous and solemn word I speak is a shade of your name.”

She sucked in a breath. “We’re speaking in sins.”

“No. I’m being honest. It is a part of humanity—these desires are what make me a man.”

“But you have to be a
priest
.”

“And so…” I gestured to the space between us. “I have not indulged.”

Even when it might’ve been easy.

Even when I might’ve taken her, thrown her onto my desk, the floor, against a wall.

My worst demonic urges imagined her lying flat, naked, waiting on the altar with her legs spread, breasts heaving.

Slick and sacrilegious.

Begging in blasphemy.

If I was to sin, I’d lose myself entirely. And if I was to remain holy? It would be in praise of my vows, my faith, and my
honor
.

Now and at the hour of our death…

“We have a
choice
.” I declared it, loud, as if in Mass. This would be my most important homily. “We can surrender to this desire. I’ll take your virginity, and my vow of celibacy will belong to you. We will succumb, and this sin will be claimed.”

Honor shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

“Then we must do what people have done for ages.”

“Suppress it.”

“No…
fight
it.”

Honor crossed her arms. Didn’t she realize it offered more of her curves for my inspection?

No. She didn’t.

And that made me all the more wicked.

Eve…playing with the forbidden fruit without realizing the damning consequences.

“I have fought it,” she said. “But
you
are the one who keeps me close, Father. You wanted me here, in the choir, in the groups.”

“Yes, because I can protect you.”

Amen
.

“How?”

I extended my hands. “Temptation is inescapable, but surrendering is a choice. We fear what we don’t know, the forces we don’t understand. If we wish to fight this, we must take the opportunity to understand what burns in us. If we discover why we would sin together, then we’ll have the power to deny it in our most basic instincts.”

“Deny it?” She repeated. “Do you think it’s that easy?”

“No. No test of faith is ever easy.”

Honor frowned. “I didn’t think we were supposed to test our faith?”

“Our faith is
constantly
tested. We must challenge our humanity. Deny the animalistic needs, terrible desires, and wicked perversions that would tarnish our soul.”

I spoke harshly. Too aggressively. Honor stiffened, and her beautiful expression twisted into confusion.

“Father Rafe, you speak as if all sex is…
evil
.”

She wouldn’t know. I didn’t expect someone of her innocence to understand.

“Yes, Honor. Every touch.”

“But—” Her words turned from hushed heat to quiet pity. I clenched my jaw as she looked upon me, too gentle to realize the truth. “That’s not what I imagined sex would be.”

“How would you imagine us then?” I asked. “Answer honestly.”

“Well,
this
…” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “
This
would be…dangerous. Wrong. Tempting and forbidden. Exciting, though I know we’d suffer for it.”

“Then you understand.”

“No, I don’t.” She frowned. “Sex between lovers, between a man and a woman,
married
and connected? That would be something…beautiful and holy.”

Poor angel.

Innocent
angel.

“Sex is a declaration of power over another person.” An old darkness clouded my mind. I refused to let it take hold. I lost too many years to that evil. “The strong enforce their will upon a weaker body.”

“But—”

“It is raw, primal, animalistic. An invasion of body and soul.”

Honor frowned. “Some would call that the ultimate
trust
, Father.”

“And I see it for the truth—a moment when you are lost, without escape. You would be
taken
and made for a man’s desires.”

She shook her head. “Or you are made beautiful, safe, and lost only within tender affection and loving promise.”

“You’re naïve.”

“And you’re…in such despair.”

I wouldn’t allow her to pity me. “I recognize my desires because they are shared by
all
men. I have no faith in us.”

Honor glanced to the locked door. “Do you have faith in yourself?”

I tapped my collar. “Yes, though I struggle, as all men do. But I can control myself. I vowed to temper those thoughts, those desires, those
sins
.” I held her stare. “And you will resist as well.”

“How? Do you want us to…
deliberately
tempt ourselves?”

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“
No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind
,” I quoted. “
And God is faithful; He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, He will also provide a way out so that you can endure it
.”

“Shouldn’t we leave this to Him then?” she asked.

“We will not be rid of this lust until we understand it. We can hide from it. We can ignore it. But we will always be a slave to it unless we conquer it ourselves.”

Her lips parted as though she would argue.

As though she feared she would fail.

“I want to explore our temptations,” I said. “Bend our bodies to our spiritual limit and prove we are unbreakable in our vows. We will test ourselves so that we can be prepared to deny our weaknesses.”

Honor spoke softly. “And if we can’t do this, Father? If we surrender to it?”

“We won’t.”

“But if we do?”

“There is no
if
. We cannot fail.”

“Then why risk it?”

I wouldn’t have her lose faith so quickly. I seized her in my arms, just as I did before, just as closely and fiercely.

Only this time…I kissed the words from her.

And in that moment, she became mine.

Her lips parted, and a breathy sigh awakened the sinner within me. Her body pressed against mine, so soft and beautiful, graceful and
holy
that the erection pressing through my trousers desecrated her with dark urges.

I wanted this woman. In my arms. In my bed. Forever murmuring a soft prayer and offering forgiveness in a kiss to my aching lips.

Every nibble of her flesh tasted of candied apples and victory.

Would she taste as delicious pressed within my sheets? Would every inch of her skin shiver in goose bumps as it had now?

Her lips parted more, granting me that singular joy of flicking a curious tongue against hers. She groaned, and the quiet, throaty murmur echoed in the adoration chapel.