Throne of Desire (Prince of Lust #5)

Prologue

“For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?”

Once, the Church had me believe I was whole. That I had a soul, and it was pristine and intact, and it would remain so, for as long as I kept my hands folded and my eyes lowered.

For as long as I lied.

They told me to love God first. They did not tell me that would mean loving no one else.

And so my faith gave me nothing but hunger.

I starved on sanctity. I swallowed shame like sacrament.

I called every kindness I desired ‘temptation’, every softness ‘sin’.

And when I found myself loving others–which happened always quietly, from corners and shadows–I called it ‘suffering’ and called myself holy for enduring it.

Living like this, is it any wonder I was so hungry for most of my life?

Both my body and soul hungered for gentleness.

For another man’s gaze, that might flick to mine not in fear, but in recognition.

Ah, I see you, Alessandro: I see that we are the same.

I hungered for the feel of a thumb brushing the hollow of my throat.

For arms around me that didn’t belong to saints carved in stone, unmoving and unmerciful, or to my brethren, whose affection was always innocent.

I hungered for warmth that didn’t come from the flame of punishment or the fear of an eternal Hell.

The Church offered salvation on the condition that I never touched what I loved. But I do not endure such a fate now. I cannot—not after letting Asmodeus in.

Asmodeus, my wild Prince of Lust, who did not flinch from the darkness inside me. The demon who did not ask me to be pure, only truthful, and who never told me I was a sin waiting to happen.

In its gaze, I have found no condemnation.

The Church says I have lost my soul. But I say: I have shed it. Like a cloak too heavy to wear. Like breath held too long in the chest. I gave it up, and with it, I stopped begging to be forgiven for existing as I am.

What I have now is an answer to that old and endless desire. Flesh, met with flesh. A world where no voice shames me for craving touch, or tenderness, or a man’s mouth on mine. A world where I can look at Asmodeus, Prince of Lust, and see not a test of faith, but the truth of my nature.

Yes. I have lain with demons. I have forsaken Heaven. I have let go of the promise of eternal reward in exchange for something far more sacred: the right to live as I am.

They say I have lost my soul.

Let them.

I would rather lose it than live my whole life refusing to touch what I loved.

Asmodeus did not steal me. I gave myself freely.

Let the kingdom of God bar its gates. I no longer seek entry: For I have found something holier than thou.