Chapter 44 Ezra
EZRA
Iam losing my mind.
There's no other explanation because, otherwise, why does it feel as though I have been eviscerated?
Yes, that has to be it.
I've committed the unforgivable and broken the sacramental seal of confession. I've risked excommunication.
I should be excommunicated for what I've done.
If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.—John 20:23.
Bile bites the back of my teeth, and I swallow it down.
Dazed and nauseous, I stagger down the hallway, eager to find refuge in my chapel. I purposefully avoid the paths frequented by the Sisters of Saint Margaret's. I can't bear to see anyone else right now. Solitude is what I need, space and time to find my way back to God.
Nothing else matters.
It can't.
But then again, if nothing else matters, then why do my thoughts continue to stray back to Avalynne and Xade?
His words replay in a constant loop between my ears.
It wasn't planned. It just … it just happened.
Like he accidentally screwed his student. The thought is almost laughable, and maybe it would be, except for the headache splitting my brain in two. I don't know which hurts worse—Avalynne's confession or Xade's confirmation.
Both are just words, but both are also more than just vowels and consonants. It was the way she spoke to me and then his tone, resignation rather than remorse, when he confirmed my worst fears.
I have no right to be upset with either one of them. I know that. They are consenting adults, after all, but dammit, if she didn't waltz into my confessional booth in my church and gloat about screwing my best friend. Her words churn inside my skull, choking out any hope I have of clear thought.
Big, fat cock, she'd said.
Soaking wet pussy.
I burn and ache at the same time, my body reacting of its own primal accord. It hurts, yet I want more. Shunning my vices, I reach for scripture.
Put to death, then, the parts of you that are earthly: immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and the greed that is idolatry.—Colossians 3:5.
It does nothing to make me feel better. If anything, I feel worse, nearly vomiting as I hit the end of the hall and stagger through a door.
I am an abomination. I disrespect my Lord.
Remember your vows, Ezra!
But my oath doesn't protect me now from the traitorous realization that I caused this hell raging inside me.
I was weak, and I ran when my little dove needed me.
I ran because I was afraid of what I might feel for her, yet in doing so, I failed her and broke my promise to protect her from Georgina's misguided righteousness.
This pain is what I deserve. It is retributive justice and biblical law. The Old Testament tells me so.
But if injury ensues, you shall give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, stripe for stripe.—Exodus 21:23-25.
I caused Avalynne pain. I failed to protect her from Georgina. I abandoned my little dove when she needed me most. Now, I'm in pain because of it, though I have no right to hurt.
I swore an oath to my Lord and Savior to forego all corporeal desires. I gave up being a man so I could be a priest, but a sinful part of me wishes that I hadn't.
My baser instincts want more. They want Avalynne naked and writhing beneath me. They want … they want Xade …
My stomach launches into my throat as I peel down the stairs to the first floor. I stumble and nearly fall, catching myself on the wall before, lightheaded and drenched in sweat, I stagger down another empty corridor.
My mind betrays me. It conjures salacious images of the two of them together, sweaty limbs and spent bodies tangled.
It makes me yearn for the biting misery of a chastity belt, and I wonder things no priest should wonder about a member of his congregation, like whether my friend fucks my little dove in her habit and if she spreads her sweet legs for him before class or after.
I see it all play out in front of me, and shit, I really am going to be sick.
My fists clench at my sides as I force it back down my gullet.
I don't want this for her! And, dammit, I don't want this for him either!
Because you want them both for yourself.
I barrel through the double doors and into the courtyard just before I vomit into a thorny set of brambles by the cloister wall. Then I double over, my hands planting to my knees, and vomit again, continuing until nothing is left but the bile sticking to the back of my teeth and my own misery.
This is madness, a fleeting moment of insanity.
It has to be because I am now an adulterer in the eyes of my Lord.
I have fallen so very far from his grace.
Biblical damnations hammer against my skull as I dry heave.
But I say to you, everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart.—Matthew 5:28.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to force out the hammering, but my stomach still rolls as more condemnations barb my brain.
You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; such a thing is an abomination.—Leviticus 18:22.
I dry heave over the dirt and squeeze my eyes shut tighter.
Males did shameful things with males and thus received in their own persons the due penalty for their perversity.—Romans 1:26-27.
I nearly collapse to my knees.
If a man lies with a male as with a woman, they have committed an abomination; they shall be put to death; their bloodguilt is upon them.—Leviticus 20:13.
I want to shed my own skin. I reek of disgust and damnation.
REMEMBER YOUR PLACE, EZRA!!!
Swallowing, I straighten and beeline through the courtyard. I enter the chapel through the side door to the rectory and barrel into my office. In the darkness, I fumble for the light switch and nearly collide with Ares, who's standing there in the dark like a shadow peeled away from the wall.
Fuck. Why is he here?
I ignore him and continue past my desk, landing in my chair.
Ares knows better than to show himself, especially in daylight. Hell, he knows better than to be inside my office uninvited.
"And no wonder, for even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light," I snap at him, though the verse doesn't have its intended effect. The thorn in my side just takes a long swig of the bottle of liquor he no doubt stole from my desk before he raises his dark eyebrows at me.
I saved his ass all those years ago, and for what? This is how he repays me? Tormenting me at the lowest point in my faith? Figures.
I reach down to the desk drawer Ares left open and grab an unopened bottle of bourbon. It's old and expensive if I had to guess. It was a gift from my mentor at seminary school upon my ordination, but I rip the wax seal off unceremoniously and take a very long swig.
Hell, that's strong.
I cough on the burn.
Ares doesn't hide his grin before he takes another slow sip of his own bottle, reminding me of his presence. I scowl at him, in no mood to be his amusement for the night.
"What's wrong?" he asks as he sinks into the chair opposite me and sprawls out like he owns the place. "What's got you in a fluster, Ezra?"
I blink at him.
"Is it your pious little angel?" he snorts against the lip of his bottle, the sound grates my ears. "Though I'm not sure how pious she is when she tells you about another man's dick."
He snorts again and takes another swig from his pilfered bourbon as my blood nears a boil.
"Watch your mouth," I snap, but Ares doesn't react. He just sinks further into my chair, still holding his glass bottle by the neck.
After a long moment, he blinks at me before he gestures lazily to the floor.
"You know I can hear everything down there, right?" he says. "Including your girl's naughty confession."
"She's not my girl."
"She's someone's," he tsks.
What is that edge I hear in his voice? Is it annoyance? Anger, perhaps? What right does he have to be angry?
I catch the torpedoing thought before it explodes and run a hand through my hair, dragging in a shaky breath. I love Ares as a brother, but this reckless game he's playing—it's dangerous. It's a risk we can't afford on a good day, and today has already been hellish enough.
"Why did you provoke Marcus Immorier's granddaughter?" I ask, my words low and sharp. "Why did you let her see you?"
Ares eyes his bottle for a long moment before he takes another lazy swig.
"Maybe I'm tired of hiding down there in the dark like some kind of goddamned specter. It's time to come out into the light, don't you think?"
I grit my teeth. I cannot deal with his shit today.
"You're going to ruin everything, you know that?" I snap.
He shrugs. "Seems to me like you're doing a fine job of that all by yourself."
"Do you have any idea what you've risked?" I scoff. "Of course you do. You just don't care."
Ares laughs a bitter, hollow sound and peels away from the back of the chair to shake his head.
"I know exactly what I've risked, Ezra, but maybe it's time to act and tell Georgina's plans to fuck off."
My hand tightens around the liquor bottle. It takes everything in me not to throw it at him.
"Leave the girl out of this, Ares," I warn, watching as he rises from his chair slowly, like a cat picking itself up off the floor.
He takes another swig of his drink before he sets the half-empty bottle on my desk.
"You know," his upper lip curls with his words, "you could just tell the girl the truth. She might even surprise you and old Georgina."
I sigh and rub a hand over my face.
"There's too much at stake." It sounds like I'm trying to convince myself.
Ares chuckles, his lips curling into a sly smile before he mockingly makes the sign of the cross.
"Anything you say, Father," he drawls before he turns on his heel and strides out of my office.
Then the door clicks shut behind him, and I'm left alone with my blasphemous thoughts.
There's no going back to the way things used to be.
Not now.
Not ever.
I can only hope God shows mercy upon us all.