by Ally Vance
I haven’t got enough of a handle on my emotions to face the two of them right now without acting in a manner unbefitting of a man of the cloth. I must always maintain the air of trustworthiness and calm I've painstakingly worked to achieve ever since I began leading my church. The community needs me to put them above my own inclinations and wants. I lead by example, displaying resilience to corruption and restraining my baser urges through my self-imposed celibacy.
Just as I’m about to open my bedroom door, the volume of the voices downstairs increases, and I realise they’re heading for the front door. I exit my room and lean against the upstairs landing wall out of sight while I wait for Esme to leave. This is a good vantage point as it grants me a perfect view of the back of her, while I remain unseen. She must sense my gaze, though, because when she turns around to face Quinlan, her eyes flicker up to where I’m standing. Fortunately, she can’t see me from that angle.
I see Quinlan’s lips twitch with a barely-there smile when his head tilts ever so slightly in my direction. I grin back at him, even though he can’t see me. His hearing is excellent, and I’m sure he must have heard me come in and knows I’m standing here.
“Thank you for today,” Esme tells him, and the soft sound of her voice washes over me like a tide.
“It was nothing,” Quinlan laughs, and she shakes her head.
I’m transfixed by her, and the memory of how her lips moulded to mine when I kissed her makes my cock twitch. Inwardly I groan at how weak I am when she's around. I should keep my distance and do everything in my power to drive her away, but all I want to do is draw her closer and make her mine. I want her on her knees before me, worshipping me like I do my own God.
While I’m internally battling with my mind, body, and the devil who’s determined to sway me with his sinful temptress, Quinlan and Esme say their goodbyes. She finally leaves, and letting out a relieved sigh, I release the groan I've been holding in.
“Uncle Frollo? How long have you been up there?” Quinlan calls out, a cocky edge to his voice.
“Long enough. I trust you used protection.” I retort, sharper than I intended to be, but the thought of the two of them together makes my fists clench and my teeth grit together.
“I didn’t fuck her,” he laughs with a shrug. “But who’s to say I won’t?”
“Me. I don’t want you fucking Esme or any of my other parishioners for that matter. I have a reputation to maintain in this town, and I don’t want you ruining it.”
"What do you mean by that?"
"You know exactly what I mean by that. I saw how close you were with Evelyn a couple of years ago. Not to mention the scandal young Lillian caused with Landon. If I don't tackle corruption at the root and take action to prevent it, it'll run rife through the town."
Stepping forward to lean against the banister, I look down at him with a scowl while he stares right back at me, wearing a smug expression. When his eyes narrow slightly and focus more intensely on me as though looking deeper into my soul, I exhale heavily and decide to swiftly change the subject.
“How are your eyes these days, Quinlan?”
They widen before he averts his gaze, and then sighing, he replies with another shrug of his shoulders, “About the same as always; maybe a little worse. There’s nothing the specialists can do to help.” He gestures at the wire-rimmed glasses he’s wearing. “Even the glasses I've been prescribed don’t make much overall difference.”
I traipse back down the stairs and clap a hand on his back.
“Now you’ve finished giving away all my coffee, how about you go make some for me? I haven’t had any since this morning. I didn’t get a chance to come back here after doing my rounds.”
“What’s got under your collar?” Quinlan asks, raising his eyebrow quizzically at me as he goes over to the coffee-machine. He hums quietly to himself while he sets it up with my favourite mug, ready to receive the heavenly nectar that fuels my day. It’s never too late for a coffee.
I shoot him a look, which he doesn’t see, before I resign myself to answer.
“Sometimes the path before me isn’t so clear, and I’m not sure whether I’ll be able to pass the tests I face each day. It’s been…difficult lately,” I reluctantly admit, my mind already wandering back into the darkness of my thoughts where Esme has taken up residence.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Esme
Sleep doesn’t come easily, and I spend most of the night tossing and turning as I dwell on the events of the day. I replay the scene with Pastor Frollo over and over again, and I can’t assuage the guilt in my mind when I conclude that he genuinely didn’t understand why I reacted the way I did to his kiss.
Before literally running straight into Quinlan, the pastor was the only person I’d properly met here in Stonewood. When I smelled and tasted the peppermint on Pastor Frollo’s breath, it seemed it could only have been him who accosted me that night. But now I come to think about it, the mint could easily have been a huge coincidence. Oral hygiene is important, so most people brush their teeth, and besides, lots of people enjoy eating peppermints.
I consider going for another late-night stroll. I’d be testing my luck to leave the house again at such an unsociable hour, but what are the odds of it happening again? I shake my head, and closing my eyes, I roll over to stare at the dark wall by my bed. If I’m no longer facing the bedside clock, I can’t watch the numbers slowly counting their way towards morning.
I wake up with my head pounding as light from the morning sun trickles through a gap in the curtains and lands directly onto my face. I groan and roll over away from the offensive intrusion, burying my face into my pillow. I should get up, but the headache I've developed combined with the comfort of the blankets I’m wrapped in lull me back into a deep sleep.
Several hours later I finally rouse myself. My head feels a lot better, but the remainder of the guilt still lingers in the back of my mind. I force myself to abandon the cosiness of my bed and head to the kitchen. I make myself a late breakfast and coffee, which I swiftly devour, and having eaten, I wash up the dishes I’ve used and leave them to dry.
I pick up my purse and keys, and grabbing my bag on my way out of the door, I lock the house behind me. I have some errands to run today and decide to take the longer route into the centre of town. I've been lucky so far that the weather has been pleasant enough for me to walk everywhere, but I know how unpredictable British weather can be. It can turn from glorious sunshine one minute into a torrential downpour the next. I cast my gaze upwards to the sky, noting the thick dark clouds scurrying ever closer, and hope I can make it into town and back home before the heavens open.
I’m a little over halfway there when the rain starts, and it’s not just a drizzle, it’s a goddamned deluge. Even my coat isn’t able to withstand the downpour, and I’m soaked through within seconds. Not wanting to give up too easily, I duck under a nearby tree in the hope it'll ease up a bit while I stand there. I’m shivering now and drenched through. My clothes are clinging to my body, my hair has plastered itself to my face and is dripping down my back, and my boots feel like they’ve got puddles inside them.
I hug my arms tightly around my body in a half-hearted attempt to warm myself up, but all I do is press my cold, wet clothes more firmly against my skin. A car shoots past, kicking up the spray from the road and splattering me with filthy water from head to toe. I briefly close my eyes and breathe deeply, bracing myself for what I’m about to do…I let my eyes fly open, and just as the rain begins falling even harder, I start running. I tear down the street as fast as I can with the rain furiously pelting me, heading for home.
Another car passes, but this one slows before coming to a stop just ahead of me. The front passenger-side door opens, and a voice I recognise calls out to me, “Esme, get in!”
I hesitate for a split second when I see Pastor Frollo sitting in the driver’s seat, but the promise of warmth and a reprieve from the weather entices me more than my unease about bei
ng around him. A flash of lightning splits the sky followed by a loud crack of thunder merely seconds later. I dart over to the car, slide into the front passenger seat, and slam the door closed, shutting out the storm.
I’m completely soaked through. My sopping wet clothes are leaking water over the seat, and I’m shivering violently. Pastor Frollo presses a button on the dash, and warm air slowly fills the car. I pull my coat off and toss it in the footwell by my feet. It’s not doing anything for me except acting as another cold, damp layer to my miserable situation.
He drives without a word while I slowly start to warm up.
“Um, I live on the other side of town. Near where you saw me the other day,” I tell him when I look through the rain-lashed windscreen and see we’re heading away from my house.
He glances at me but doesn’t speak for a long moment. The silence between us drags on. The only sounds are the rumble of the engine, the steady tap-tap-tap of rain on the glass windows, and the squeak of the windscreen wipers.
“My house isn’t far. I think it’s best we get you out of those wet clothes as quickly as possible,” he says with a shrug.
I raise an eyebrow at him. “We could easily go to my house. It’s not like I live very far from here. I’m sure where you picked me up was closer to my home than yours.”
His lips twitch with a smile, and his eyes flicker briefly to my face before focusing back on the road ahead.
“Is that an invitation, Esme?” he asks, and his voice is flooded with amused innuendo.
I flinch, ever so slightly, but he’s not looking at me, so I hope he misses it.
“No, it isn’t. Merely an observation,” I respond, my tone sharper than I intend.
Frollo’s smile grows more prominent, and the feeling of unease starts to spread inside me anew. I’m not as unaffected by him as I’d like to be, and something tells me he’s fully aware of this unfortunate fact. He changes gear, and his fingers brush against my leg, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. I shiver again, but this time not with cold.
Finally, the car slows and Pastor Frollo manoeuvres it up a driveway towards what I presume is his house, although the misted up windows make it impossible to see clearly. He brings us to a stop, engages the handbrake, and leaving the car idling, he turns to face me.
“Keep telling yourself that. We both know I affect you,” he whispers, and reaching out, he prises my wet hair from my cheeks before running a fingertip lightly over my neck.
My breath escapes in a soft exhale, and my eyes are fixed on his until he blinks slowly, breaking the connection, and I turn away. The noise of the engine cuts out, and I hear the sound of keys jingling as the pastor exits the car. Rain is still falling heavily, obscuring my view through the windscreen. I attempt to squint through the fogged up glass, but my attention is stolen when he opens the car door.
“Come on, we need to get you inside and into something dry,” he says.
I nod slowly and exit the vehicle. I duck my head to shield my face from the weather and hurry up the path after him towards the front door. When I step across the threshold, he closes the door behind me. I look up at him with a smile, but then my heart thuds heavily in my chest when I notice the familiar surroundings. I’m slammed with a startling realisation.
I've been here before.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Frollo
It amuses me to watch the recognition dawn on her face when she realises that this is the house Quinlan brought her to the other day. It comes as no surprise he didn’t tell her this was my house; after all, why would he? Her expression falls, and her eyebrows furrow together in confusion as she stares at me, lips parted in disbelief.
Rainwater continues to drip down her face and strands of her hair are still clinging to her cheeks. I step towards her, closing in until she's trapped between me and the front door. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, and I can’t control the thrill of excitement that rushes through my veins at the sight of the fear flashing in her eyes. God, help me! This woman opens the door to my soul and lets the devil in. I want to do things to her that would make an angel weep.
“Why are you afraid of me?” I murmur, carefully concealing the delight I feel at this moment.
Esme’s eyes flick up to meet mine. I can see her searching the depths for something; I’m not sure what. Maybe she thinks I intend to harm her, but what I really want is to possess her. In a short amount of time, she's grown into an obsession. I fight to tamper down the need rippling through me, demanding I take her right now and show her the extent of what she does to me. I can’t give in to it, though. I mustn’t surrender to these wicked desires, yet I’m struggling to find both a reason and the will to resist them.
She swallows and worries her bottom lip with her teeth before she replies, “I don’t know. It’s…it’s almost like there’s more to you than can be seen. As though there’s something sinister lurking out of sight…but that’s crazy.” She laughs softly, shaking her head, but her eyes don’t stop their nervous exploration of the hallway we’re standing in.
I step forward, closing the distance between us, and lift my hand to her cheek. Tracing the soft skin, I run my fingertips through the watery trails left from the rain. I lightly cup her jaw, tilting her head back until we’re face to face. Such beauty in one so sinfully alluring. The devil is within me now. It’s damn near impossible to hold him back, and there’s a part of me that no longer wants to.
“What if it’s not crazy?” I whisper as I succumb and snatch her sweet lips with a kiss.
Esme’s surprise is evident in the way she reacts to my advances. She's unresponsive at first, her mouth unmoving and arms hanging loose by her sides. But I nip at the lip she was worrying, eliciting a small gasp from her, and seizing the opportunity she presents, I invade her mouth with my tongue. Tentatively she starts to kiss me back until we’re a furious inferno of passionate hands and mouths.
I wrap my arms around her body, pulling her close to me, and Esme grips my shoulders. The soft pinching of her fingertips bites at my skin and fans the hellish flames of lust whirling inside me. I want to consume this woman until she's screaming out my name in heavenly bliss and she knows she's mine alone.
She breaks the kiss, panting breathlessly. “Wait. We shouldn’t do this. I can’t do this. Not with you. I've got to go.”
Disentangling herself from me, she twists out of my hold and heads for the front door. As she opens it, she steps back, brushing up against my body, but I don’t move. The evidence of my need for her is achingly conspicuous, and when her soft arse presses against me, I’m almost overcome once again. I want to trap Esme between me and the door and sink into her delicious body. I want to touch her bare skin and mark her. I want to do so many depraved things to her.
I ball my fists at my sides and grit my teeth together, but I don’t prevent her from leaving. Instead, I watch through the open door as she darts out into the rain and down the path before disappearing from view. The empty house feels vast behind me, and the hollowness in my chest and my self-directed anger have me venturing out into the rain. I decide to seek solace in the only place my soul finds refuge and make my way to the church, uncaring of the rain soaking into my clothes and chilling my skin.
I spot Quinlan ahead of me, wearing his favourite leather jacket with the hood up. He’s walking in the same direction I’m heading, so I increase my pace to catch up with him.
“Quinlan!” I call out, and he looks over his shoulder, smiling when he sees me.
He stops to wait for me, and I notice he keeps glancing down the road leading to the church.
“Got something on your mind?” I ask, having caught up with him.
He shrugs and doesn’t answer, but I see the corner of his mouth lift in a slight smile. He starts walking again, and I follow suit.
“All right, spill. What or who is the reason for that look?” I pry, elbowing him playfully while internally hoping it’s not the same person who’s the source of my current plight
.
Quinlan turns his head to face me, and through his rain-speckled lenses, the same devil I see reflected each day in the mirror is staring back at me.
CHAPTER NINE
Quinlan
The woman who’s been plaguing my thoughts constantly since I saw her is the same one who’s been terrorising Uncle Frollo’s peace of mind…Esme Byrne. My hands itch to touch her again, and my tongue is salivating for another taste. My blood heats with a smug sense of pride, knowing I got to sample her first even though she doesn’t realise it was me. I've been careful to keep my true motives hidden, charming her with smiles and friendly gestures.
I saw them outside the church together that very first Sunday I arrived, but I didn’t make my presence known. The beautiful stranger awoke something primal within me, and I knew in that moment I’d have her. However, I didn’t anticipate that my uncle would be as enchanted by her as I am.
“Esme,” we say in unison.
I’m startled by the anger in his eyes. The ever present peace surrounding him has been replaced by a turbulent darkness. It seems Esme brings out the devil in both of us. My smile spreads wider. Little does she know that Frollo isn’t the only monster eager to devour her; I've been haunting her footsteps since the first time I saw her.
Without warning, I find myself slammed up against the boundary wall to the church grounds.
“I told you not to touch her,” he snarls, getting in my face.
I laugh and slap his hands away. “You only told me not to fuck her. You didn’t say anything about not touching her. Furthermore, I never agreed to your demand in the first place. You should know me well enough by now: when I set my mind on something, I’ll do everything in my power to achieve it. In this case, Esme is who I want, and I plan to have her.”
“What makes you think I’d let that happen?” he scoffs.
“Well, it appears she likes and trusts me a lot more than she does you. Esme is unknowingly playing with fire, and she's going to get burned.”
