Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Rune
M y concentration is shot.
I’m standing behind the altar reciting the liturgy of the eucharist. A sacred rite, honoring our savior for his sacrifice. This is meant to be a meaningful moment not only for myself, but the parishioners who fill the pews. Yet all I see is her.
Farrah.
She sits in the back of the church in her green dress, hair set ablaze by the sunlight streaming in through the stained-glass windows. To say she stands out among a sea of drab clothing and expressionless faces would be an understatement. I can barely remember the words I’ve said thousands of times, my mind going back to the woods.
I don’t know what I liked more.
The way you made my pussy so hot, or the way you kissed me when I was coming .
My cock thickens behind the altar, my gaze straying to her for the umpteenth time. She has her legs crossed now, but she uncrosses them every time she needs to kneel.
I like overseeing when she kneels.
It stirs…everything. My blood, my wayward fantasies…my heart.
Farrah stirs my heart.
That’s what scares me. We’ve awoken something insatiable in one another. A chemistry of the flesh. But it’s impossible to pretend like there isn’t much more to the connection between us. When I woke up this morning after a restless night, my immediate need was to hear her voice. To find out how she passed her first night in the rectory walls. To experience her smile. To know more about her.
Problem is, the more I know about Farrah, the more I ache to know it all. Every fear and insecurity. Everything that brings her joy. Her favorite and least favorite memories.
How she would look carrying a child.
Mine.
I exhale through a shudder, momentarily pausing in my recitation as a drop of come beads on the head of my cock, soaking into my robes. My hands are unsteady, the muscles of my stomach knit in a torturous pattern. No relief in sight. Because the only thing that will fully relieve me is Farrah’s soft, virgin cunt and I cannot let myself have it.
Remember your vows.
With a hard swallow, I raise the chalice of wine and complete the ritual—
Someone enters the back of the church. A man. He slips in through the shadows and steps into the light, allowing me to see his face. Ice forms on my skin when I recognize Mr. Tandy, the man who wants to marry Farrah.
The man who has told me in confession on multiple occasions that he fantasizes about tying Farrah up and whipping her.
Even from the front of the church, I can see his reaction to spotting Farrah in the back row of the church. His eyes widen, like he can’t believe his good fortune, but just as quickly they dim with something sinister. He advances toward her seat rubbing his hands together, a vampire stalking a lamb. As if sensing she’s in danger, she sits up straighter and looks around, discomfort transforming her expression when she notices Mr. Tandy.
He slides into the pew beside her, so close their shoulders touch, Farrah shrinking into herself before my very eyes. Destructive rage unlike anything I’ve ever felt singes my nerve endings and I almost drop the chalice in my haste to set it down, lest I cast it down the aisle. Now, Mr. Tandy leans toward Farrah, whispering something in her ear that makes her lose color, quickly pull away.
She stands to leave, but he grabs her wrist and yanks her back down into the pew—and I belt a command from deep in my chest, five words whipping trough the cathedral like a gale wind. “ You will not touch her. ”
The candles on either side of the altar flicker, several parishioners gasping at my tone. At what must be a drastic change in my demeanor. I’m bristled behind the altar, ready to attack. Ready to break commandments to defend what’s mine. Mr. Tandy is frozen, staring at me in bald-faced shock, but he hasn’t let go of her wrist and that drives me off the altar, my feet carrying me without consent from my brain. I can only think of ripping his fucking arms off. Protecting Farrah from this man who would put welts on her skin for his own enjoyment. This man who dares whisper in her precious ear.
I will crucify you.
Those words burn in my throat as I reach their pew and take Mr. Tandy by the collar, hauling him into the aisle and dragging him bodily toward the exit. Gasps and furious whispers follow me. I can’t do anything about those. I simply need to remove this monster from the presence of my sweetheart who has been assaulted by men twice in a matter of days. Who protects her outside these walls? No one. She is entirely vulnerable in her current situation—and I can’t stand that. I could choke to death on the knowledge.
“Father McDaniel,” sputters Mr. Tandy. “What are you doing?”
“Seeing you out.”
“I don’t wish to leave!”
“Then you shouldn’t have put your filthy hands on my—” I cut off my telling statement. “On Farrah. She is not yours to touch.”
“She will be one day. I’m just getting a head start.” He attempts to free himself from my grip but doesn’t succeed. “Soon, she will have no choice but to accept her fate. Remain in the shelter on the street, hungry and penniless. Or accept my proposal.” He looks back over his shoulder, seemingly to catch a final glimpse of Farrah and frankly, that sends me deeper into rage. “It’s the red hair, Father. It riles me so.” He backpedals when he sees my ferocious glare. “But all I want to do is speak with her.”
“You forget I’ve received your confession, Mr. Tandy. I know you want to do much more than speak with her.” Finally at the exit, I pull him outside and slam him up against the ancient wooden door, screeching the hinges. “Consider this your warning to stay away from Farrah. Permanently. Or I’ll whip you , instead. Is that clear?”
Spittle flies from Mr. Tandy’s mouth as he attempts to suck down oxygen. “What business is this of yours, priest?”
“She is my business and my business alone,” I growl, twisting my fists in the front of his shirt. “That’s all you need to know.”
On the heels of that too-revealing statement, I sense we’re not alone.
Farrah watches through a crack in the door.
One glance in her direction is all it takes to see her eyes sparkle with gratitude.
Adoration.
Yearning.
For me.
My heart booms at a choppy pace. I want to toss Mr. Tandy aside and reach for her, pull her into my arms and comfort her. Oh lord, how can I withstand this connection?
“Farrah,” I say hoarsely, throwing Mr. Tandy to the ground. He scrambles away and starts to run back in the direction of the village, but I only have eyes for her now. I draw her out of the church and into my arms, stroking her long hair, moaning in my throat when she crosses her wrists behind my neck and molds her body to mine. “If he touches you again, sweetheart, I will end his life,” I say, in a hushed vow. “Never. Again.”
“You’re making a habit of saving me,” she whispers back, looking at my mouth. “Now, I’m going to save you. It’s only a matter of time before someone comes looking for you, Father. You must go back inside and finish mass.”
“One more minute,” I rasp, holding her tighter, so tight I can feel her heartbeat. “I take it back. No amount of time is enough with you.”
She looks up at me with solemn eyes, pulling out of my embrace slightly, visibly conflicted. “You can’t say things like that.”
“It’s getting harder and harder to stop myself.”
“But—”
“Father McDaniel.” The monsignor’s voice crackles through the morning air and I watch Farrah’s eyes widen on the man beyond my shoulder, her hands dropping decisively from around my neck. “That was quite a show you put on in there.”
Still in the grip of my anger, I turn on my superior, managing to process the revelation that he witnessed my behavior in the chuch. “He was manhandling Farrah in the back row. Hurting her. I would intervene every single time.”
The Monsignor arches an eyebrow. “And would you comfort just any woman in the same way?” His gaze ticks from me to Farrah and back. “I highly doubt it.”
I say nothing. Any protest to the contrary would be a lie.
“You’ve just failed your test,” drawls the other man. “Mr. Tandy has confessed to me many times, we well, you see. I invited him to morning mass to see how you’d react to having him near Farrah.”
Ire stabs me in the dead center of my chest. “How dare you,” I growl.
There’s a flash of awareness in his face, as if he realizes he’s pushing me too far now, and he starts to back away. “You have passed once, failed once. Tonight will be the tie breaker that determines if my suspicions hold water—and I believe they do.” He turns to leave. “I suggest you prepare yourselves.”
I spend the rest of the day in a daze, vacillating between trepidation and lust and outrage over the monsignor’s actions. Wondering what challenge the evening will bring.
If I have the strength left inside me to pass any test where she’s concerned.
I don’t see her for the rest of the afternoon or evening, but I catch glimpses of her red hair when I turn corners. Catch her scent lingering in the hallways of the rectory. She’s an apparition haunting my heart, my soul, my body, and so by the time I’ve retired to my room for the night, I am battling an undeniable impulse to wait until midnight, then go find her. Enter her room and join her in bed so that we can have our fill of each other, once and for all. My cock is stiff as a pike at the prospect of finally uniting with her wet pussy, making her gasp and whimper over the girth of my sex, which stretched her lips so wide when she knelt and sucked me just last evening.
I close the door of my room and lean back against it, closing my eyes, attempting to replace my carnal thoughts with holy ones…and failing. There’s only her—
“Thank you for joining us, Father McDaniel,” says the monsignor.
My eyes fly open to find my superior sitting in my bedroom by the fireplace.
Wait. He said “us.” Thank you for joining us .
Pulse kicking into a riot, I drag my attention to my narrow twin bed…
And see that Farrah is there.
Chained to the headboard.
Completely nude.
“What is this?” I ask, raggedly, stumbling toward her as if in a trance. “Why…is she chained?” And then a bellow builds inside of me, shaking the rafters. “You should not be seeing her like this.”
Just like this afternoon outside of the church, he looks hesitant, as if realizing he might be playing with fire. You have no idea.
“You will sleep in bed with Farrah tonight. If you can make it to morning without…indulging in her charms, I will not approach the clergy with my concerns.” He leans back in his chair. “I’ll be serving as witness to your triumph. Or your ruin.”