IT’S SHOWTIME.
It was clear when I met Father Owen that my usual seductive ways would be useless. The old man wasn’t one I was going to be able to seduce. However, I had to have something to bring back to Luc. So I have another plan up my sleeve.
Unfortunately, this one is too close to home.
“Is there a school here?”
He beams at me. “Yes! Ah, the children. Most churches aren’t interested in growing that section, but we are proud of our school.”
Bingo. They all love the fucking children.
“I would love to see it. Are they orphans, or is it a school requiring tuition?”
He picks up his pace, eagerly making his way in the direction of the school. “Oh, no, sister,” he calls out over his shoulder, “They aren’t orphans. These children who come here have families. It’s like any other school, and they don’t live here. Their parents pay a reasonable tuition, but nothing out of the norm.”
I hurry after him to catch up. “Are they all boys?”
He shakes his head. “No, the school is comprised of both boys and girls.”
My head spins as I remember something I would rather not.
I’m early today. Just as I am every day. I plan on ruining his “lesson plans” even if that means horror for me. Today is no different.
“Father Paul,” I hiss as I open his door.
This time, he’s waiting on the other side, his arms folded across his chest. His body visibly ripples with the rage he can barely contain. He’s onto my game and furious.
“What is it now, sister? Every day for a week now, you’ve come up with something so incredibly important that you have interrupted every single one of my lessons. Today, I canceled the lesson I had planned, for I knew you would barge in here anyway.” He takes a step toward me, and I raise my chin in defiance. “Sister Lillian, if I didn’t know any better, I would think you like getting whipped.”
My cheeks blaze with fury. “Something is wrong with you.”
He glares at me and seizes my wrist. I yelp as he hauls me to him and kicks the door shut. Our eyes meet—mine with terror and his with sick lust.
I hate him.
“You’re preventing certain things from happening. Things I require to do my job at this church,” he growls.
The man I first met is present in the hallways and around the other clergy. But alone, he is a monster. My bottom is so raw and bruised from his abuse, yet I come back here each day for more.
Not because I want to.
But because I have to.
To protect those boys.
“I’d say you get enough sick pleasure from hurting me,” I taunt. But even though I am trying to put on a brave face, bitter tears well in my eyes. One escapes and slides down my tender and sore nose.
I attempt to jerk my wrist free of his punishing grip, but it’s futile. He lugs me to him and slides his other arm around my waist, holding me against him. His erection presses against my belly, and dread freezes my veins.
“Just whip me and get it over with,” I spit out.
The wicked glint in his eyes haunts my very soul. “Very well. Lift your habit like usual and assume your position at my desk. Don’t forget where I want your panties.”
In my mouth.
“I’m not wearing any this time,” I seethe.
My intention is to rile him up. Show him that he doesn’t have control over me. But to my dismay, he seems turned on by my words.
“Oh, you’re in trouble now.” Even though his words are menacing, they hold a hint of anticipation.
After wrenching myself from his grip, I stomp over to the desk and hike the material up over my butt. He always rubs the cream on afterwards, but it doesn’t relieve the bruises. I’m dreading the pain that will soon have me begging for mercy. With a ragged sigh, I bend over and find the scratches on the wooden desk. I noticed them last time I was here, and I focused on them instead of the brutality.
My own nails are clipped short, which means the ridges in the wood came from someone else. Some other woman he tormented prior to me. The thought of him hurting others fuels a raging fire of hate inside me.
At the clink of his belt unbuckling, I swallow my fear and attempt to focus on the scratches.
I can do this.
I can do this.
When his hand palms my bottom like usual, I brace myself for the impending blow.
What I don’t expect is the finger. The invasion of my virgin territory. Ripping through the dry, tight flesh.
“Ahh!” I cry out.
He pops his finger from me and slurps on it from behind me.
I want to vomit.
“Don’t touch me. Let me go!” I hiss at him.
His belt is suddenly around my throat, and he’s leashed me up like I’m some dog. My fingers claw at it in an attempt to breathe, but he shoves me back onto the desk hard enough that I black out.
When I come back to, however long later, my insides are raw and burn with an intense fire. So sore. Everywhere.
“You’re surely going to hell, sister. Whoring yourself out to a priest,” he growls from somewhere behind me.
Wetness trickles down my thighs, and I sob as he continues talking.
“I suppose you’ll need daily lessons. Someone will need to bring you back closer to God. That someone will be me.”
I close my eyes and pray for lightning to strike me dead.
“Lovenia,” Omega murmurs.
I’m in his arms, not quite sure what happened. But I’m safe. Father Paul isn’t here—he’s still trapped in the nightmare of my old life, thank God.
“What happened, baby?”
Trembling, I turn my head to see if Father Owen is watching our exchange. “Where is he?”
“He is already in the next building. You had a panic attack or some shit right here in the hallway, so I held you until it passed.”
I sigh in relief that my cover wasn’t blown. Nuns certainly don’t clutch on to clergymen the way I am right now. It would appear suspicious, so I break free from his grasp so that nobody will see.
“I’m fine. A memory. That’s all.”
He storms forward and cups my face in his hands. His thumbs swipe my tears away. “That was one fucking horrible memory. The moment we’re alone, you better tell me about it.”
The Lovenia he once fell in love with would have refused. But I, the one I only let him see—want to tell him. I want to confide in someone. How nice would it be to share the burden?
“Yes. I promise.”
His eyes shine with pride and love, which I am nearly knocked over by. I can see that he wants to pull me into his arms and kiss me like there’s no tomorrow. And, Lord, how I want him to do just that. But I’m thankful he’s my partner at the moment. Hastily, he presses a chaste kiss to my forehead and draws away from me.
“Let’s go, gorgeous.”
I sigh at his compliment and clasp my hands in front of me to keep from throwing them around him. Together, side by side, we follow Father Owen.
“This is our first-grade class,” Father Owens says proudly.
I watch him for indications of likenesses to Father Paul, but so far, nothing. The man is kind and happy. And he truly loves the children—not in some sick way. I don’t want to corrupt this man. Luc is off his fucking rocker. I’m surprised Bosefus hasn’t attempted to stop us or call for backup or do whatever SG do when someone encroaches on their territory. Instead, he hangs back, watching our every move with a knowing smirk cocking one side of his lips up.
This entire deal stinks.
“Come. I’ll introduce you both to the students,” Father Owen chirps as he pushes through the door.
The class turns their attention to us, chattering and giggling at having had their boring schoolwork interrupted. Father Owen introduces us as a few of the children eye up Bosefus. He’s supposed to be invisible to humans, but some children have the uncanny ability to sense or see the presence of those who work for HEA and HEL and are supposed to remain hidden, like SG, Minders, or Reapers.
“Your name is really Love?” a boy from the front row questions.
When I drag my gaze over to him, my heart seizes. He looks just like him—the boy who launched my descent into Hell.
I’m on my way to my room for the evening when I encounter a boy walking down the corridor. “Young man, it is nearly ten in the evening. You should be in bed by now,” I scold. I figure he’s been up to no good, but when he breaks free from the shadows, my heart breaks.
This child, no more than twelve years of age, is broken.
Somebody broke him.
I fall to my knees before him and tug him into my arms. “Sweet boy, are you all right?”
Ever since the first time he raped me, I’ve willingly gone to Father Paul. And each day, he’s used me. Unfortunately, the first time was the only time I actually blacked out. Every time thereafter, I lived through every horrifying detail.
But today? Today, I was called upon for a meeting with the sisters. I tried every excuse in the book to get away, but I was told that it was mandatory. Surely he would simply wait to teach me a lesson, I thought. No others would be in harm’s way.
However, as this boy sobs in my arms, I know.
I know I should have fought harder. Gone against the head nun’s orders. I should have let Father Paul hurt me so that he wouldn’t hurt others.
Blistering rage within me explodes. I block out everything except for the sick, hate inside me. With each murmured assurance to the boy and every ragged breath I take, I fuel the fury in my heart.
I will kill that man.
Soon.
“You’re weird,” the boy from the class laughs, snapping me from my memory.
I shake the lasting horrors off and stare at the boy, who is different from the one I met long ago. Mostly, it’s their ages. However, this boy looks so much like Daniel that my heart hurts.
I smile back at him. “You’re weird too.”
I turn to Omega, who’s on his haunches, his arms folded over a desk. He’s staring at a little blond-haired girl as if he knows her. A maternal, pride-filled sensation washes over me at seeing him with the child. A yearning—a longing so great that it nearly rips my soul in two.
No matter what happens between us, we’ll never marry. Never have children. Never have a life free of missions and destinies.
Life will never be simple for us.
My heart fucking aches.