Chapter 52 Ezra
EZRA
The air is bitterly cold tonight, biting at my exposed skin and starting a shiver in my hands.
Ares and I sit side-by-side atop the church roof, leaning against an old stone parapet.
In the darkness, we pass a bottle of bourbon back and forth, sharing it in silence while the rest of the Convent sleeps.
Well, except for Xade, that is.
The glow from his office spills into the dark courtyard below, illuminating a sliver of it. It bathes the cobblestones beneath his office in warm honey hues and casts shifting shadows across barren rosebushes.
It appears none of us can sleep tonight.
Not me. Not Ares. Not Xade.
It's become an infuriating pattern as of late.
Every night, restlessness claws at my nerves.
If I'm lucky, I toss and turn until, eventually, spent and exhausted, I pass out.
If I'm unlucky, then my body pulls me from my bed and into the shadows to find something to occupy the time.
Tonight, I had thought I might sit on the roof and enjoy my solitude.
Ares was already here, though, bottle of liquor tucked by his side, his expression unreadable.
He didn't ask as he passed the bottle to me. I'm grateful for the silence. I'm in no mood to talk.
Our shared insomnia has led us here, perched like guardians above Saint Margaret's.
From our vantage point, Xade's office is visible, though he's done nothing interesting in hours, simply poring over books and drinking his own bottle of amber liquid.
That is until now, when Ares takes a swig from the bourbon and grunts, lifting a hand toward the window that shows Xade's office.
Xade is staring at someone and speaking, and we watch, passing the bottle back and forth, until my little dove comes into view.
Avalynne.
Seeing her at this unholy hour surprises me.
She should be in bed, not troubled by the demons that keep the rest of us awake. I watch curiously as she rounds my best friend's desk, dressed only in an undershirt that exposes her shoulders and the skirt her grandfather requires her to wear.
Despite my better judgment and every moral fiber in me screaming to look away, I don't.
Curiosity killed the cat, so I guess prurience killed the priest.
Look away, Ezra.
I can't because what is she about to do? And why do I have to know?
Blindly, I reach for the bottle, my fingers finding the slate rooftop tiles before I grab hold of the glass and take a long swig. I let the burn chase away my impure thoughts.
Avalynne's hair, free from the veil, catches the lamplight and turns the color of cherries dipped in gold.
It's not quite blonde, not quite red either, but something entirely her own.
I take another mouthful of bourbon. This time, the burn down my throat washes away the little voice that tells me this is wrong.
My heart pounds uncomfortably in my chest as I watch her approach Xade's chair. Every step around his desk is slow and deliberate. She's clearly flirting with him, and although I have no idea what she says to my friend, I can imagine.
The sweet epithets and endearments.
The teasing and the delicious torment.
I can imagine all of it.
There's a familiarity to the way in which they act now that makes me ache. It's the kind of intimacy I yearn for but can never have. I have begged God to help me overcome these desires.
I need his help now more than ever.
Ares steals the bottle back from me and takes one swallow, then two, then three. I'll be lucky if he doesn't stumble off the roof drunk and break his neck tonight.
We watch as Avalynne smiles at Xade and sinks slowly to her knees in front of him. That yearning in my chest becomes a blade that twists painfully between my ribs, plunging deeper with each passing moment.
Still, I can't stop looking.
God forgive me.
I take the bottle directly out of Ares's hands and swallow a heavy mouthful. The burn is barely noticeable.
"We shouldn't watch this," I mutter, though I make no effort to move.
Beside me, Ares shifts slightly, and I glance at him to find his expression hard and unreadable. Whatever this is, he can't look away either.
Together, we watch as Avalynne reaches for Xade's belt buckle, her hands climbing up his thighs. My friend leans back in his chair and watches her. His straight hair falls to the side of his face, black as night, and I want to be there now, in front of them.
I'm not close enough.
Heat surges beneath my skin, sinful desire eating through my veins. Even from this distance, I imagine I can hear her soft teasing, picture his eyes gleaming with desire, as she leans closer.
"Goddammit," I whisper.
It's going to take hours to repent for this, but I can't seem to stop myself.
I take another long swig from the bottle to quell the bitterness rising in my throat. Maybe Ares and I will both fall off the roof tonight.
Ares fishes a battered pack of cigarettes from the front pocket of his leather jacket. He shakes one loose and places it between his lips without even looking away. He lights it expertly, the brief flare of flame illuminating his features, before he snaps the lid to his lighter shut.
He exhales a cloud of smoke that drifts lazily upward.
"God help us," I murmur, my voice barely audible.
I've been taught restraint my entire life. My entire existence is designed to emanate control, but they are quickly eroding everything I believe in.
Inside the office, Xade lifts his hips and helps her remove his pants.
Fuck. Me.
I can see him now. Of course, he's far away, so the image isn't clear, but it's enough to send heat scuttling down my spine like a demon running home.
She lowers her head to his dick, and I grit my teeth.
My gaze narrows, my fingers tightening around the cold neck of the glass bottle.
Fiery heat pulses through my chest, fury winding together with longing.
Jealousy bleeds into shame.
Every sinful thought I've buried rises to the surface, unstoppable. She lowers her head, beginning to suck his cock, and his fingers thread through her hair, holding her close. My dick presses rock-hard and insistent at my zipper, and all the things I'm not allowed to feel make me feel shame.
"Enough!" I rasp, forcing my eyes toward the distant horizon, where stars scatter across velvet darkness. "We shouldn't watch this."
Yet, even as the words leave my mouth, I know I'll steal another glance.
There's no escaping the pull.
Ares sighs, his cigarette already half-spent, and flicks the smoldering stub off the rooftop. I watch its ember spin before it extinguishes to nothing. He sucks in a breath between his teeth, and I want to tell him to look away, but how can I?
Not when I'm again looking back at them, too.
Ares curses, and he looks up at the sky, his face illuminated by starlight. His lips barely move as he murmurs in Aramaic.
".??????? ???????? ???????????"
I know the translation instantly.
God help us all.
Only I can't hear God tonight.
All I hear is her imagined breaths and his deep groans, carving into my skull.