Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Elias
Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own. You were bought at a price. Therefore, honor God with your bodies.
The bible verse bounced around my mind, the pressure of my cage ached, and my cock was desperate to harden. Seeing Ronan taste me after all these years. His dangerous words, the fantasies he provoked in my wild mind.
It was all too much.
It was…God.
It was true salvation.
I could feel the weight of the moment, heavier than the snow that blanketed the world around us. Ronan let my necklace fall back to my chest, licking his fingers back into his mouth. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and for a heartbeat, I was lost—completely lost—in the pure ecstasy of the action.
The heat of him looking at me, our bodies aligning in the way they always had, the way they always would, no matter how hard I tried to bury it.
His hands reached forward toward me, beckoning me closer, urging me to forget everything—the vows, the responsibilities, the years apart.
But how can I?
How could I forget the life I had chosen?
The life that kept me bound to something greater than myself?
I was a broken, pathetic man that ended a life. I swore when Father Franklin found me on those steps that morning after the accident that I was going to be something—anything but the piece of shit I’d grown to be.
Still…in Ronan’s arms, all of that felt irrelevant.
All that mattered was him.
I closed my eyes, letting myself breathe him in, feeling the pulse of his heart against mine, and for a fleeting moment, I thought maybe, just maybe, I could abandon everything for this—for us.
My fingers slipped over his bare skin, tracing the familiar path of his scars, those marks of a life he had lived. Some were familiar. I knew of them from our childhood. Snapping turtles taking a chunk out of his left pectoral on a July summer, but there were others that were as foreign to me as the life he lived without me.
I wanted to memorize him.
“Who were you when you left me, Ronan? What did you become In that big city?”
Ronan stiffened, his mouth opening to speak,
But then the sound cut through us like a knife. A sharp snap of a twig a short distance away. My heart slammed against my ribs, and I pulled back, instinctively scanning the trees around us.
Ronan didn’t move immediately. He was stuck in his mind. He was still so close, his breath mingling with mine, and for a second, I thought we could ignore the sound, pretend it hadn’t happened.
But just like the pain of my cage every time my lust swelled inside me…I couldn’t.
The buck was standing only yards away, frozen in time, its dark eyes locked on us. A perfect shot. A perfect opportunity. The way the snow clung to its fur, the way it held itself with such regal calm—everything about it screamed that it was time.
But I wasn’t ready.
Not yet.
Not when the air between us still simmered with something more, something forbidden. My hands trembled, and I could feel my heart racing, but it wasn’t from the hunt.
It was from him.
I heard Ronan shift beside me, his presence a constant reminder of everything I’d been running from. I was so close to giving in to him, to let myself fall into that space where there were no rules, no expectations—just us.
But that was not who I was anymore.
That was not who I was supposed to be.
God sent me this message, this warning.
“Take the shot,” Ronan murmured beside me, his voice low and commanding. “It’s yours.”
I fumbled, reaching down slowly to grab my rifle. My fingers were steady on the trigger, but my thoughts were a warring storm. The conflict raged inside me—part of me wanted to pull the trigger, to do what I was meant to do, to complete this hunt.
Another part of me wanted to turn, to take his face in my hands and kiss him again, to feel the heat between us grow, to lose myself in him and see what else he would taste of my sins.
I drew a breath and focused on the buck, willing my body to obey. The stillness of the forest was broken only by the soft crunch of snow under my boots, the weight of my hesitation hanging in the air like a thick fog.
“Are you going to pull the trigger, Elias,” Ronan whispered beside me. “ Or are you going to let it get away…”
His question hung heavy in the air—an unspoken meaning to the chosen syllables.
The buck stepped forward, its muscles tense, and I could see the glint of its antlers, the way it shifted its weight, preparing to bolt.
I couldn’t let it get away.
I had to do this.
For the hunt.
For the world I lived in and the walls I’d built.
With a practiced hand, I took off the safety, lined the wood against my shoulder, and breathed deeply, grounding myself in the steady line of the shot.
The moment stretched out, and Ronan’s eyes bore into my side. For a heartbeat, I thought I might not take it. I would let this creature go about its life and find another way to feed my family for the night.
But then, my body moved of its own accord. The tension was released, and the bullet flew, cutting through the crisp air with a loud whizz.
The buck cried out, the sound slicing the silence, and it collapsed onto the snow, its body going still, lifeless within seconds.
I stared at it, my chest heaving, and it felt like the whole world had stopped. The triumph of the hunt should have filled me with something—pride, satisfaction, something—but all I felt was emptiness.
I lowered my gun slowly, the weight of it dragging me back into the reality I couldn’t escape. Ronan was still standing there, close enough that I could feel the heat from his body, and yet there was a space between us now. The distance I had tried so hard to keep—between my duty and my heart—felt impossibly wide.
He turned to me then, his gaze meeting mine, and I saw The hurt in his eyes—the pain of my decision to follow the way of my life.
The snow was still falling, and the world felt painfully still for a moment. I could feel the weight of the past, the heaviness of everything we had said, pressed down on me, suffocating me.
I should have felt victorious.
I should have felt like a hunter, but all I felt was the cold distance between what I had done and what I longed to do.
I couldn’t look at him any longer.
“I should have taken the shot sooner,” I whispered, my voice rough, barely more than a breath. “We’ve lost enough time.”
He looked away, walking over to grab the legs of the deer. His words were colder than the freezing air. “Yeah. We have.”
* * *
The warmth of the house surrounded me, thawing my body from the harsh winter outside. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, and the smell of the cooking venison filled the air. It should feel comforting and like home, but everything felt off. The table was set perfectly, and my family’s voices and the house’s background noises hummed as they talked about the day’s events, but I couldn’t focus on them.
All I could think of was Ronan, sitting across from me, just a breath away, and everything that we couldn’t forget in the forest.
The weight of what happened between us in the woods still pressed on my chest as if I were being stoned. I could feel the phantom hint of his lips on mine, the memory of the kiss that nearly undid everything.
It’s too much to carry and keep buried beneath the surface.
And yet here we were, sitting at the family table, trying to pretend that nothing was different.
Nothing had changed.
But we knew better.
I glanced up, trying to make it look like I was engaged in the conversation, trying to follow my father’s latest story about the hunting trip he took that ended with the burnt meat.
However, all I heard was the sound of my pulse in my ears, all I could see was Ronan, his face unreadable, his jaw tense, flexed like when I was beneath him on the pine.
He was picking at his food, not really eating.
Neither of us were.
Our appetites had burned for a different type of hunger.
We were trapped in that moment, stuck between the past we’d run from and the impossible present we now found ourselves in.
“Eli, how’s your priestin’ duties been?” my father’s voice cut through my thoughts, and I was startled by the question. My eyes flicked over to Ronan before I answered.
“Fine,” I muttered, my voice flat.
I tried to sound casual, but I couldn’t escape how Ronan looked at me like he was waiting for me to say something, explain anything, and make this better. But I couldn’t.
I couldn’t fix this.
Not now, not with them watching…maybe at all.
I tried not to let my gaze linger too long on Ronan, but my eyes betrayed me, flicking back to him almost immediately. He returned my gaze, but his expression was neutral, carefully guarded by his years of denial, and perfectly fitting into society.
I tore my eyes away, focusing instead on my plate, pushing my food around absently.
The silence only grew, heavy with everything unsaid.
“So, Ronan…” my mother said, trying to break the awkward silence. “You’ve grown so much since we last saw ya. What ya been doin’ in that fancy city?”
Her voice was kind and welcoming, but I couldn’t bear the tension in the air.
My chest hurt, my stomach twisting, as I remembered the last time she saw him—when everything between us was simpler. Back when Ronan and I were just two boys, innocent in our love for each other, unaware of the pain that would come later.
“Uh, I’m a mechanic,” Ronan replied, his voice a little too tight. He forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was trying. I could see it.
But it’s not enough.
Not when everything between us is in pieces again and again. Not when our love is as suffocating as the collar I wear.
“How’s your Ma doing, Ronan?” my sister Maria said.
The question was light, but it felt like a trap. She was only trying to make conversation, but every word felt heavy right now like it was pulling us further apart.
Her question had my mind racing to the hospital. The stolen moment with his hand in mine as he put together the reason I was truly there. I looked down at my bandaged hand and sighed.
Swallowing hard, I spoke up, allowing Ronan an ‘out.’
“She’s…fine,” I said, answering for him, but it sounded hollow, even to me. “Still managing.”
The words hung in the air between us, and I knew they sounded like I was not even present. Like I’m somewhere else entirely when the truth is that I couldn’t escape this.
I couldn’t escape the way my mind was still in that forest with Ronan’s lips on my own, still reeling and aching from his rough touch. Despite everything I’d told myself.
I do belong to Ronan Saint Clare.
Ronan’s eyes flicked back to me, and I saw it. The same unspoken question, the same desire, the same ache that’s been building ever since we were alone in the woods.
I wanted to look away, to pretend I didn’t feel it, but I couldn’t. My body betrayed me again, my dick pressing painfully into the cage beneath my pants. My heart beat faster, harder, the old rhythm of us calling out despite all the pain we caused one another.
The room felt too small, too close. The walls closed in around me, and I couldn’t breathe.
“So…” Maria said brightly, trying to keep the conversation going. “Did you guys play hide-and-seek in the forest like when you guys were kids, Ronan? You guys were gone for hours.”
The question was innocent enough, but my chest tightened even more. The memories flashed in my mind—running through the woods with Ronan, laughing, living for those moments when we were free of the world’s expectations.
It was a past I couldn’t revisit.
It was a past that was lost, no matter how much I wished it were still real.
“I know you two loved playing in the hallways when we were teens. Come to think of it, I don’t think we ever finished our game last you were here, Ronan.”
Ronan chuckled, but it sounded forced, and I was less than impressed by her pointed tone. My sister hadn’t grown up at all. She was still pining after men who didn’t want her. The real question was…
Why would Ronan have led me to believe he had been in a relationship with her if they hadn’t been?
“You and Ronan played a lot of games, Maria. I am certain you had time to finish anything interrupted prior.” I couldn’t help but stoop to this level, but the way she baited me like a rat made me lash out.
My parents looked confused, and Maria’s bright blue eyes looked focused, if not challenging.
Ronan wouldn’t look at anyone. His face was shoved into a cup to avoid all of our gazes.
“Actually…” Maria said, sitting straighter, ruffled like a peacock. “I was interested in continuing playing those games, but Ronan here chose a different game. Isn’t that right, Ronan? It seems he picked a whole bunch of different players instead of me.”
My mother coughed on her bread, and my pa cleared his throat.
“It was some rough weather, Maria. The boys took a little longer because of that. Stop gripin’ because you managed to get a good roast from the store. Speaking of, why don’t ya come help me get the food outta the oven.”
Maria scoffed, but she shut her trap and left with my mother. Ronan finally resurfaced from his drink, and the sound of the glass cup hitting the saucer on its return made us all jump.
The tension in the room was uncomfortable. And it wasn’t much better when they returned with the fresh venison.
“The snow was comin’ down hard, yeah,” Ronan said. “We had to wait a bit for anything to show up. But I’ve learned to appreciate the warmth of a good meal, so we stayed until this ol’ boy showed up,”
As usual, his lighthearted personality calmed everyone down, and that tension was alleviated if just a little while everyone continued taking bites of the food.
His voice was light, but I could hear the sadness beneath it, the weight of the things unspoken in that snowstorm.
I looked at him, really looked at him, and I could see the frustration in his gray eyes, the way his lips pressed into a thin line. He wanted to say something in response to Maria.
I could feel it in the way he avoided her gaze.
But he didn’t.
And neither did I.
I wanted to reach across the table, take his hand into mine, and tell him I was still here, erasing the pain in his eyes. But I couldn’t. Not in front of my family. Not now. The weight of my responsibilities, vows, and family bogged me down, and I felt my collar suffocating me further.
The awkwardness between us stretched into an unbearable silence, and I couldn’t stand it anymore. My hand shook slightly as I picked at my food, the weight of everything too much to bear.
I tried to make small talk to keep up the facade that everything was fine.
“It was colder out there than I expected,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Wasn’t it, Ronan?”
Ronan didn’t respond, but he was looking at me again, his eyes full of questions I couldn’t answer.
Not here.
Not now.
Maybe ever…because I didn’t know the damn answer myself.
The fire crackled in the hearth of the silence between us, but it didn’t compare to the heat in his eyes. The flames didn’t warm the freezing parts of my heart or stop the ice from erecting around the fragile, broken structure I had become.
Nothing could.