Chapter Thirteen

"I've told you," Priest says in a slow, measured voice, "my vows keep myself in line for me. For that humanity you pretend to care about."

I give him my most innocent smile and turn around so I'm facing down the aisle, the top step pressing into my lower back. "And how does fucking me mean the downfall of humanity?" I ask, reaching down with my bound hands to pull the hem of my dress until it's hiked at my waist. I spread my legs, making sure he has a good view of my bare cunt.

A rumble sounds from his chest, his brows lowered as he glowers at me.

"It's about control," he says thickly, and I can tell he's trying hard not to look between my legs.

"But making me come on your hand isn't about control? Or you coming between my breasts?"

"Christ, woman," he swears.

I nearly laugh. "Who is blasphemous now?" Then, I put my hands on myself. I should be ashamed at how wet I've gotten just from teasing him like this. "Fine then. If you won't give me what I want, I'll have to give it to myself."

His nostrils flare, the grip on his necklace making his knuckles white.

But he doesn't tell me to stop.

I move my fingers lower, the sound of my wetness incredibly loud in the silence of the church. It's hard to get purchase with the way my hands are bound together, but it's all part of the show.

I arch my back, my hair flowing behind me like a sheet. I moan, my mouth open. I feel his eyes on me, on my face, my chest, my open legs. They burn like fire under his gaze, making my skin feel hot and tight and exposed.

"You could help me," I whisper, staring up at the rafters. "You could help me in so many ways."

"You seem to be doing fine," he says in a raw, ragged voice.

I lift my head to see him staring at my cunt intently, like he's ravenous and desperate for a taste.

I spread my thighs even wider and watch him swallow the sight.

"You could loosen the rope," I say on a whimper. "Let me do to myself what you won't do to me."

He glances at me sharply, the line deepening between his brows. He assesses me for a moment, breathing heavily as he weighs his options. Tension crackles between us, stretching on seemingly forever before he reaches over and unties the rope binding my wrists, throwing it to the side.

Then, to my surprise and delight, he gets on the floor and moves between my legs. With a firm grasp on my thighs, his hard fingertips digging into my skin, he spreads them further, his mannerisms rough. His long black hair tickles my sensitive skin, adding to the sensation.

I gasp, and he stares up at me between my legs, silently asking if he should continue. The look in his eyes is starkly savage, that beast beneath the man coming through.

Yes. Eat me whole. Take what you want. Take it all.

A prickle of sweat forms at the back of my neck. I want to escape from his clutches, but at the same time, I want to be caught. I want to be his prey. I want him to feast on me and fuck me to the brink of death. I want to dance with that heaven he's always talking about.

"Devour me," I whisper to him. "Devour me until there is nothing left."

His jaw tenses, a low rumble escaping him, blue eyes blazing with hunger and need, and then he plunges his face downward.

I cry out softly, my hands reaching out to make fists in his hair. His beard razes my delicate skin, his lips both hard and soft as his mouth engulfs my folds, his tongue strong and moving deftly. One long lick, then another, making my world spin, making me want to beg for him deeper.

"Priest," I say through a groan, losing myself to the feel of his tongue. He fucks me with it, diving deep inside my cunt. It seems to be longer and thicker than humanly possible, filling me until I can't breathe.

He groans against me, and the vibrations cause my hips to buck up against his face. Neither of us is patient tonight. Smoke fills my veins, and I'm both floating and grappling for him, tugging on his hair as if to keep me here while, at the same time, I want to be set loose.

"Christ, you taste like my prayers," he says against me, his lips moving as he talks, his breath hot on my cunt, my eyes rolling back in my head. "I prayed for this, for you."

My heart catches high in my throat at his words.

He prayed for me?

Is he being honest, or is he telling me what I want to hear, trying to render me useless, at his mercy? Is he?—

Ow.

He bit my damn clit!

I yelp, the sound echoing in the church despite my tempered voice, and he sucks it into his mouth, moaning loudly now. I can feel the hot rush of blood, the pain quickly soothed by his soft, lapping tongue, and that heady, foggy bliss from his bite takes me over.

"I'm close," I manage to say, nearly choking on my words, my thighs squeezing the sides of his head. "I'm…I'm…"

It's too much. I'm wet with blood and desire, and his mouth is insatiable, frantic and messy, his lips and tongue swirling and sucking and licking, and every nerve inside me is pulled into a tight bunch. I'm chasing friction, chasing something. I fill with fire that has nowhere to go, and it builds and tightens and…

I come undone. In pieces. In ashes. Fragments scattered across this holy place.

I'm crying out his name, yanking his hair, my body bucking wildly until I think my hips might break his jaw. Heat explodes through me like a million lightning strikes, and I'm not sure where I am anymore. I'm not sure what I've become except this being, floating and soulful and free.

Then, in the back of my mind, I remember my plan.

There's really no point, no way I'll actually be able to escape.

But I have to try, at least once, and suffer the punishment for it.

"Priest," I whisper, pulling on his hair until I bring his head up toward mine. He braces himself on either side of me as he leans in, and I go to his ear, as if I'm going to whisper something, his hair falling over my face.

Instead of saying anything, I search the desperation inside me, that need to be wild and free, and I summon my teeth.

They lengthen in my mouth, my jaw sprouting in pain. My fingers do the same, the fingernails curving forward into hardened claws.

Priest stiffens as he notices, but it's too late. He's too wrapped up in the taste of me on his lips to be as quick as he should be.

With a howl, I bite his ear with a savage snap, my teeth sinking into it and ripping the flesh right off.

He hollers, blood spurting, his hand going to protect himself, and I work as fast as I can, tearing down the side of his neck with my claws, ripping out muscle and sinew before I move out from under him. He tries to grab for me, but I slip out of his grasp, his hands too slick and bloody.

I don't have any time.

I start running down the aisle, heading for the main doors, spitting out parts of his neck and ear as I go, my feet stumbling as I try to run for the first time ever.

I'm almost at the doors when I feel him behind me, panting, growling like a rabid beast, ready to take me down.

I won't make it.

At least I tried.

He roars and tackles me from behind, and I twist in the air until he slams me down on my back, the wind knocked out of me.

His blood pours over me, dripping onto my face, and he grabs my hair, yanking it back before he goes for my neck. He bites me hard, though the pleasure is again quick to take over from the pain. He drinks from me, and I try to fight back, even though I know it's futile, even though I wanted him to catch me. My jaws snap, and my claws rake down his back, breaking through the fabric and leaving long, bloody gashes.

He cries out and brings his mouth off my neck, fumbling for my arms with one hand while he restrains me by the neck with the other.

"Was that your plan?" he yells as he briefly lets go of my throat to tear his necklace off and flip me over on my stomach, wrapping it around my wrists behind my back. "Was that your plan this whole time, to try and seduce me so you could escape? Say the things you thought I wanted to hear?"

I'm not even trying to bite him anymore. "It wasn't a good plan?"

"Do you want what you're asking for?" he roars, grabbing me by the back of my neck. "Would you even know how to handle what you're asking for?"

Before I can even try to answer, he pulls me straight off the floor by my neck, enough that I fear he might just snap it in two, like a hollow bone. My claws flail aimlessly, unable to catch the beaded necklace binding my wrists together, my teeth snapping but unable to get near him.

I wanted him to chase me, to pin me down, to throw me about and have his way with me—finally—but there's a chance he's so far gone with rage that he might actually kill me. Not just a tease of death, not just flirting with my demise—he might actually rip my head off, feast on my blood until I'm a dried husk, and be done with it. In moments, I might be dumped back into the sea to become food for the fish.

He takes me to the nearest pew and turns me around so the back of my legs hit it, my back arching as his grip tightens.

I stare at his eyes—wild, uncontrolled, like there's someone else behind them, someone who doesn't care if I live or die. The monster. I never wanted that part of him to come out.

I can only stare at him and wonder if this is it.

"Please," I manage to whisper against his choking grip.

Please let me live.

Please let me go.

Please take care of me.

Please fuck me.

Please…love me.

I would take any of them.

And then I see clarity come into his eyes, cold at first, making their color glacial blue, like ice underwater. I see him emerge, the tortured human, the priest, even the blood-drinker.

With a deep, rumbling growl, he drags me down the pews, my bare feet barely touching the floor before he shoves me down so I'm kneeling on the bench.

"Is this what you want?" he cries out hoarsely, bringing his body behind me. He yanks up the hem of my dress until it's bunched around my waist, my bottom bare to him. I hear him fumbling with the fabric of his pants, and my heart starts to gallop in anticipation. I'm still wet from before, but now, it's bordering on being excessive.

"Is it?" he growls in my ear. "You like to play rough? You like to hurt and maim? Is that what you want in return?"

His breath is hot on my cheek, and I can hear the deep, rasping impatience in his voice, like he's angrier at himself for giving in. "Do you want my cock wedged inside you until you can't breathe? Is that enough for you? My seed dripping down your leg, my soul along with it? Is that it? Will that satisfy you?"

"Yes," I cry out softly, and I feel him pull his cock from his trousers, the energy of him radiating against the back of my thighs, the press of his solid, thick, intimidating length. It's velvet soft and hard at the same time—and hot, so very hot. I can feel it pulsing against me with every beat of his heart.

My cunt aches with need, sudden and wild, and I almost beg him again—he seems to like how I beg—but then his hand grips my bottom, fingers digging in hard as he shoves his cock inside my cunt in one, punctuating thrust.

"Priest!" I call out through a ragged exhale, his name carrying to the rafters.

"Is this what you wanted?" he rasps against my neck, his hips pumping against my rear, his pace quickening. "My vows torn to shreds to appease you and your appetite?"

I can't help but nod, a whimper escaping my lips.

It's exactly what I wanted.

"You think you're my salvation? You think you're my redemption?" he goes on, beard tickling my ears. "Do you even know what that would mean?"

I can't even form the words. I can't think. His hand goes to my throat, choking me, the other hand running down to my wrists, briefly fingering the beads around the necklace binding me together.

"I want you," he says breathlessly, grinding his cock in deeper. "Need you. Crave you like nothing else I've ever wanted. No absolution, no heaven, nothing. I must have you, just like this, cock deep in your cunt and praying to God that you'll never leave me, that I'll never be without this."

He reaches around my front, hand frantically moving the layers of my dress out of the way until he grabs my cunt, his grip possessive and hard. "This belongs to me, along with the rest of your body, your soul. Forever and ever more, we are bound."

With a fingertip on my clit, he creates rough, hard circles against where I'm slick and swollen. Whatever damage was done earlier from his bite has subsided, and I'm just as sensitive as I ever was. He reaches forward slightly, pinching it as if he were biting it again, and I gasp. It hurts, and yet I've never felt so desperate for the pain.

"I want you coming on my cock like the sea goddess you are," he says roughly. "I want it wet, so very fucking wet."

His fingers go back to work, swirling, pinching, pulling until my thighs start to shake, my neck arching back.

"Yes, yes," I hiss. "More."

"Jesus," he mumbles against me. "You're going to bring me to heaven when I don't deserve it. You're going to be drowning in my cum from the inside out."

He pulls back just a little, trying to catch his breath, and the whole church is fuzzy, like I'm somewhere else, in another world. Then his cock is driven in so hard and deep, there's no mercy, no mercy at all.

I cry out, the breath knocked out of me as I let go to the oncoming waves, to the pain that comes with the pleasure. My core feels like it's the sun, hot and spinning, the heat building until it obliterates me. I come hard and as loud as my voice will allow. My entire body pulses and quakes, the edge of the pew digging into my chest, hard enough to bruise.

"Oh, fuck me, here it comes," he pants. "Oh, God."

He ruts into me, pure animal, all beast, all man, and I hear his breath hitch, feel the rumbles of his groans, the hot spurt of his seed inside me. My body jerks and flails from the dying thrusts until it's boneless, until his pace slows and his hands are coasting down the back of my head, sliding through my hair in a gesture that's both absent and tender, like he's not really sure who I am or who he is.

"Larimar," he says, my name a whisper, an offering, something revered.

Then, he plants a kiss on my shoulder.

Sweet.

Soft.

"Priest," I whisper back.

He tenses with hesitation.

Then, he chuckles warmly.

"Sorry, I'm having trouble hearing you," he says. "My ear seems to be missing."