Chapter 7 Elior #2
“Yes.” I clasped my hands, feeling a tiny spark of nerves. “I hope I can help everyone. Sometimes people come with very heavy things.”
“And you listen to all of it.”
“All of it,” I said quietly. “It’s my duty.”
Jace looked at me for another long moment, his gaze dipping down my face, lingering on my mouth before returning to my eyes.
Then he smiled in a way that made my stomach flip.
“Then I guess I’ll see you tonight,” he said softly.
The way he said it made my heart skip a beat. I nodded, unable to hide the warm flush in my cheeks. “Yes,” I whispered. “Tonight.”
* * *
By the time the door creaked open again, my legs were numb.
The chapel was lit only by candles now—dozens of them—their flames flickering in the draft that slipped under the old wooden doors.
The air was warm from all the bodies that had come and gone, from the incense Father had burned earlier, from how long I’d been sitting in the Seat of Light without moving.
My back ached. My knees ached. My head felt strangely light, fuzzy at the edges. But I stayed still. I always did. Stillness was part of the duty.
The woman kneeling before me—Sister Abigail—finished her confession with a shuddery breath.
“…Please forgive me,” she whispered. Tears shone in her eyes as she bowed low, touching her forehead to the stone at my feet.
I wanted to tell her it would be all right. As I had many times before, I wished I were allowed to speak with them, to offer them comfort. Her heart was clearly hurting, and I hated it.
She rose slowly, murmuring thanks before walking with her head down to the chapel door. It shut with a muffled thump, leaving me alone.
I exhaled, blinking slowly as the silence settled around me. My fingers tingled from how long they’d been resting on my knees. My throat felt itchy from hours of holding back my voice.
But we were nearly done. I could feel it. Only a few more—
The large front door opened.
I straightened automatically.
A lone figure stepped inside, his silhouette shaped by moonlight and candle-glow.
My heart jumped before my mind caught up.
Jace.
He paused halfway down the aisle, like he wasn’t sure if this was the right place or the right time. His hair looked softer in the low light, and the shadows made his eyes seem even darker than usual.
For a breath, neither of us moved.
Then he walked forward.
Not with the quiet shame or trembling guilt most people had during confession. His steps were steady. His shoulders straight. He looked sure of himself.
When he reached the dais, he dipped his head politely—not the full bow that members usually did, but still respectful.
“Elior,” he said quietly.
The sound of my name in his voice made warmth bloom in my chest.
I swallowed thickly, wanting to greet him. Instead, I curled my fingers into my thighs and nodded. I was suddenly very conscious of how tired I must have looked.
He seemed confused at my silence, but knelt all the same.
The candlelight caught on the dark stubble on his jaw, on the bow of his full lips. He folded his hands loosely, not clasped tight like most people, just resting there.
Waiting.
His eyes lifted to mine.
Something fluttered deep inside my chest.
He wasn’t like the others. He didn’t look afraid or ashamed or desperate for absolution.
He looked like… he was studying me.
Really seeing me.
I had to inhale carefully to steady myself.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” he asked.
He couldn’t be expected to understand, especially because of our talks in the mornings.
I said quietly, “I’m not supposed to. You share your confession with me, and I absorb it.”
Jace’s lips thinned at my words. “Right,” he murmured, “you’re not allowed to talk.”
I nodded, heat gathering in my cheeks. My voice wasn’t supposed to enter confession. The Vessel received. The members released. That was the rule.
Jace leaned his elbows on his knees, a casual posture that felt wildly out of place.
“Well,” he said, “I guess I’ll start with the… past.”
My fingers tightened against my robe.
Past sins were usually heavy ones—theft, anger, envy, deception. Sometimes even darker things. But Jace didn’t look weighed down by anything. If anything, he looked amused.
“I figure I should confess the things I did before coming here,” he said. “Since, you know… clean slate and all.”
I nodded at him, my chest tightening.
His smirk deepened. “Alright then.” He leaned in slightly. “Let’s see… I drank a lot. Too much, some nights.”
My eyebrows twitched upward before I could stop myself.
“Partied too hard,” he continued. “Bars, lounges, rooftops, anywhere with loud music. And I picked up guys more often than I can count.”
My heart skipped. Heat flared in my face so fast I nearly flinched.
Jace noticed.
Of course he did.
“And when I say picked up,” he added lightly, “I mean we went home together. Had sex. Casual. Fun. A few hours, maybe a night. Then we went our separate ways.”
My jaw parted in a small, silent gasp.
He tilted his head. “Too much?”
I shook my head quickly—too quickly.
He huffed a soft laugh. “Alright.”
My pulse was fluttering so hard I worried he could hear it.
“It wasn’t all sex,” he said, almost thoughtfully. “Sometimes it was dates. Sometimes just kissing. I like kissing.” His eyes gleamed, watching my reaction.
He was teasing me.
Teasing. In confession.
I wanted to melt into the stone.
“And drinking,” Jace went on lazily. “God, I loved a good drink. Whiskey. Beer. Shots if the night was rough.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I can’t say I regret all of it.”
My head spun. This wasn’t like any confession I’d ever received.
“Tell me, Elior,” he said, voice dropping a little. “Am I gonna get punished for that? Spanked? Locked in a room? Flogged? What’s the discipline for a guy who had a lot of sex and a lot of fun before finding the Light?”
I tried not to shrink, but I couldn’t help it—I was flustered and confused and very aware of him kneeling so close.
“I-I don’t know,” I said quietly, trying to keep my voice steady. “It depends. Father decides the discipline.”
Jace hummed thoughtfully. “Does he now?”
Another moment of silence.
Then he said, softer, “Talk to me, Elior.”
I blinked. “I… I really shouldn’t.”
“No one’s here,” he murmured. “It can be a secret. Just between us.”
The words hit something tender inside me. Something that wanted to trust him—wanted it desperately.
But the rules…
“I’m not supposed to speak during confession,” I whispered. “I’m the Vessel. I receive. The Light flows through me, not—”
He leaned a little closer. “Elior.” His voice was gentle. “Just talk to me. Please.”
My chest opened with a trembling breath.
A secret. Just between us.
My heart betrayed me first.
“I have to tell Father,” I whispered. “About your sins.”
Jace’s expression shifted—not exactly angry, but… something I definitely didn’t like. “Why?” he asked.
“It’s the rule,” I said. “He needs to know. He decides what happens next.”
He nodded slowly, exhaling deeply, like he expected that answer. Then he tilted his head. “But you shouldn’t tell him about what I did before,” he said. “That was before I joined the Covenant. Doesn’t count. Old life, right?”
I hesitated.
My lungs felt tight.
“I… I don’t think Father views it that way.”
“Do you?” Jace asked softly.
I opened my mouth—and nothing came out.
Did I?
I wasn’t sure. Father always said the past shaped the shadows we carried. But Jace wasn’t like the others. He didn’t seem… wrong. Or tainted. Or sinful.
He seemed human.
Very human.
“I don’t know,” I said finally, my voice barely above a breath.
Jace’s gaze softened. “Then don’t tell him,” he murmured. “Keep it between us.”
My heart thumped hard.
A secret.
With Jace.
Just between us.
Something forbidden. Something thrilling.
Something dangerously tempting.
“I… I shouldn’t,” I whispered, my voice trembling.
Jace tilted his head, studying my face. “Can I ask you something else?” he murmured.
I nodded once, trying to seem composed. I don’t think it worked. My pulse was already loud in my ears.
“Does anyone ever touch you?”
My entire body jolted.
Heat shot straight up my neck, blooming all the way to the tips of my ears. My stomach dropped; my mind flashed instantly—wildly—back to his teasing, to the way he’d spoken about bodies and mouths and hands like it was nothing.
Touch me?
Did he mean—
Here?
Now?
I choked on air.
“I-I don’t—no, I mean—why would—?” My voice cracked embarrassingly, and I clamped my mouth shut, staring at him in wide-eyed horror.
Jace blinked, then a slow grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Oh,” he said softly, amusement threading through his voice. “Not like that.”
I wanted the chapel floor to open and take me whole.
He laughed under his breath—not mocking, not mean, just amused and startled, like he genuinely hadn’t expected me to go there. He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes still crinkled.
“I mean,” he clarified, “do people here ever touch your hand? Or your feet? Like… for a blessing or something. You’re always barefoot up there. I just wondered if that’s part of it.”
My heart was still hammering wildly, but I managed to shake my head. “They’re not supposed to,” I whispered.
“Not supposed to,” he repeated, like he was testing the words in his mouth. His gaze dropped, slowly, to where my feet rested against the stone. Probably too pale. Cold from the draft. Completely exposed.
He shifted closer.
I felt the shift more than I saw it—the air tightening, the faint heat of him brushing the edge of my space. My breath caught.
“Elior,” he murmured.
The way he said my name felt like a hand on my ribs, keeping me frozen in place. His fingers came forward, hovering just above my ankle. He didn’t touch me. Not yet. He waited, giving me a chance to flinch or refuse or stop him.
I didn’t move.
I couldn’t have moved if I’d tried.
Very slowly—painfully slowly—he set his fingertips against my skin.
A shiver tore through me so sharp I nearly gasped. My toes curled. My back straightened. My lungs tightened.
Jace exhaled like he’d been holding his own breath.
His fingers were gentle pinpricks of heat against my skin.
“See?” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Not that kind of touch.”
It felt exactly like that kind of touch. Or, well, at least what I thought that kind of touch would be like.
My chest felt too tight, full of something vast and terrifying and unbelievably soft. My vision blurred at the edges. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I wanted to reach for him, but didn’t dare.
“Jace…” I whispered.
His thumb stroked lightly across the top of my foot.
My entire body shivered.
“Yeah,” he breathed, eyes lifting to mine. “I know.”
His touch lingered—just a few fingers resting against the top of my foot—but it felt like my whole body was straining toward that point of contact. Everything inside me felt fragile and too big, like a trembling glass filled to the brim, ready to burst.
Jace’s thumb made one more slow pass over my skin.
I sucked in a breath that stuttered, a sound escaping me—small, broken, humiliatingly soft—a whimper.
His eyes flicked up immediately.
Not mocking; not surprised.
Something else—something dark and intent—gone just as soon as it came.
The silence between us stretched thick enough to drown in. My heartbeat felt like it was happening in my throat, like I couldn’t swallow around it.
He didn’t move his hand.
And I didn’t dare move at all.
Another breath slipped out of me, shaky and thin. My toes curled again uncontrollably. My fingers dug into my knees. I wanted—God, I didn’t even know what I wanted, only that his hand was on me and it felt like sunlight and danger and relief all tangled together.
“Elior…” he crooned.
Then—
His hand disappeared.
Just gone. Leaving my skin buzzing, cold, almost aching in its absence.
I blinked at him, startled, breath still caught half-formed in my chest.
Jace sat back on his heels, expression smoothing into something easy—too easy, considering what he’d just done. He ran a hand through his hair like nothing unusual had happened, like we hadn’t just crossed a line.
“Well,” he said lightly, pushing to his feet with a soft grunt, “thank you for listening. I feel much better now.”
I stared up at him, mouth parted, unable to form a single coherent response.
His lips tipped into that faint, crooked smirk he wore. “See you in the morning, Elior.”
And just like that, he turned and walked down the aisle.
No bow. No hesitation. No sense of the world-splitting moment he’d left me drowning in.
The chapel door creaked open, spilling a slice of night air across the sanctuary, before shutting behind him with a quiet thud.
I was alone again.
But my skin still burned where he had touched me. My pulse wouldn’t slow. My thoughts wouldn’t settle into anything understandable.
I pressed a trembling hand to my chest.
I wasn’t sure what had just happened.
All I knew was that my body had reacted. My penis was hard between my legs. I stared down at the way it tented my robe, lip quivering.
“No,” I whispered. “Go away. Please.”
It throbbed in response to my plea. I didn’t want to touch it. I despised how it seemed to mock me with my own impurity.
“Please go away,” I whimpered.