by Ally Vance
My uncle takes a step back, and I squint through the rain at him. The falling water obscures him slightly, adding an extra blur to him, and I blink a few times to bring him back into focus. His expression is thoughtful. We’re both getting soaked but neither of us moves.
“Well, what do you suggest we do?” he blurts out angrily.
I blink at him in surprise. “We?”
He frowns and shakes his head in confusion. “What?”
A smile begins to spread over my face as an idea starts to take shape.
“You asked what ‘we’ should do.”
Frollo’s expression falters for a moment before it twists into a scowl. “I don’t want you anywhere near her.”
“You’ve got no way of stopping me, and to be perfectly honest, Uncle, I've got a much better shot at her than you,” I boast, smugness dripping from my tone.
“No!” he growls, getting in my space.
Fisting my shirt, he shoves me backwards, and a grunt escapes me as my back hits the brick wall behind.
“Damn it, Frollo. If we work together, we can get her right where we want her.”
I’m not opposed to both of us having her, although it definitely wouldn’t be at the same time. When I fuck Esme, I want full access to every inch of her body, and there’s no way he’d let that happen if he were present.
We stand silently, facing each other down, while the rain continues to fall heavily around us, soaking through our clothes and our hair. In this moment we look more like brothers than nephew and uncle. The family resemblance is startling.
“Fine,” he snaps, releasing his hold on me.
“Let me get closer to her. I’ll lure her in and get her to trust me. She already likes me and fears you,” I tell him, a plan forming in my mind which might just work if I can get him on board with it.
The next day I follow Esme into town, tracking her movements as she runs a few errands. I was amazed how easy it was to persuade Frollo to go along with my scheme. I guess when you want to possess something enough you will agree to anything. He even came up with a few suggestions of his own, such as using the converted cellar beneath the house to keep her in. It’s warm, secure, and no one would ever find her there.
I watch Esme paying for her groceries, and I move to stand on the pavement near the exit to the local convenience store. As she's about to head out, I start walking, making sure to keep my head down, although I can just about see her in my peripheral vision. I don’t stop as I draw closer. I keep moving until I collide directly into her, knocking us both over…much like our first official meeting.
“Quinlan!” Esme groans, trying to shift my weight from her body.
“Esme, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there. I guess I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going,” I laugh apologetically.
Reluctantly, I get to my feet, and then grabbing her hand, I pull her upright and help gather her bags lying scattered on the ground around us.
“Thanks,” she smiles when I take one of them from her.
“Are you okay?” I ask, checking her up and down to see if she's hurt whilst seizing the opportunity to hungrily devour her with my eyes.
Esme’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink when she notices my slow perusal. I’m not trying to be subtle. She already knows I want her.
“I’m fine,” she replies, brushing herself down.
“I’ll walk you home. It’s the least I can do for barging into you,” I insist, indicating with my hand for her to lead the way even though I already know where she lives.
CHAPTER TEN
Esme
I want to be angry with Quinlan for not telling me about his uncle being Pastor Frollo, but I don’t think he knows we’re acquainted. It’s irrational of me to feel upset, and most of it’s directed towards myself. For some reason, I can’t get Pastor Frollo out of my mind, and I know it’s not only because I’m attracted to him. There’s something about the pastor that frightens me, but I can’t put my finger on what it is. I can’t shake the feeling that he was my night-time attacker even though he seemed genuinely confused about my nervousness around him.
The walk back home is pleasant, and Quinlan and I talk about many things, including his mysterious uncle. Quinlan tells me a little more about himself and his family, and I greedily soak up the information. He recounts stories about his childhood and explains how he and his uncle ended up being such good friends. He also tells me about Pastor Frollo taking him in after he left home. His obvious closeness with his uncle somewhat eases my wary mind. I find myself beginning to wonder if my fear was simply a product of my imagination.
I hesitate for a moment with the key in the lock of my door. I rarely let people into my space, but I can trust him...I think. We enter my house, and I lead him through into the kitchen where he sets the bags down on the counter.
“I want you to meet him,” Quinlan says suddenly, and my kitchen seems to shrink at his words.
“Your uncle?” I splutter, and my heart skitters in my chest.
“Yeah, who else would I want you to meet?” he laughs.
“Why would you want me to meet him?” I ask, busying myself with the bags, so he can’t see the worry on my face.
“You’re my friend, Esme, and he’s my best friend. Why wouldn’t I want you to meet him?”
I take a deep breath and close my eyes, willing my heart rate to slow to a more regular pace. I’m glad he said I was his friend because I don’t want any more than that with Quinlan, or anyone else for that matter.
“I’m not sure. I guess I was surprised you’d even consider it. Honestly, I’m baffled you’re associating with me at all. Everyone else in this town avoids me. I don’t exactly fit in with the people around here,” I answer with a shrug.
“I’m not exactly from around here though, am I?” he smirks, and I can’t help submitting to his playful charm.
“No, I suppose you’re right.”
I smile up at him, and the way his eyes drag slowly over me makes me feel strange, like he’s ravaging me with his intense gaze. His words don’t seem to match his intent. I’m not entirely sure how to respond to that other than to turn away, and instead, I focus on putting away the last of the groceries.
“Are you ready?” he enquires when I’m done.
I turn to face him, relieved to see that the intensity from his smouldering eyes has subsided, somewhat. I doubt it’s gone, but for now it means I don’t have to acknowledge that what’s happening between us is anything more than simple friendship. He’s magnetic, and I’m determined to keep myself from being attracted to him in any way. Grabbing my bag, I sling it over my shoulder.
“Yep, let’s go and meet your uncle,” I respond with more conviction than I actually feel.
It’s a beautiful, sunny afternoon as we make the trek across town to Quinlan and Pastor Frollo’s home. My nerves are on edge by the time we walk through the front door to their house, and I want to kick myself for being relieved when we find it empty.
“He must be at church,” Quinlan says when he sees his uncle isn’t home. “Come on. We can walk over to meet him.”
“Are you sure it wouldn’t be better to just wait for him here?” I suggest, hoping for a little more time before I have to face the man who’s been haunting my thoughts.
“At this time in the afternoon, he’ll be the only one there, so we won’t be interrupting anyone,” Quinlan replies, walking past me in the narrow hallway to open the front door again.
I'm not ready to face Pastor Frollo, especially knowing how I left him yesterday, and certainly not with his nephew present. I can’t confide my fears to Quinlan, though; in spite of the growing closeness between us, he’s practically a stranger to me, and he clearly cares deeply for his uncle. I've little choice but to follow as he leads me out of the house and around to the church.
My heart is thudding in my chest in time with our footsteps. Everything inside me is screaming to turn tail and run. I’m sorely tempted, but I’m not su
re I’d get very far before Quinlan caught up to me and asked me some difficult questions I’m not prepared to answer. Besides, where would I go, apart from home?
The gravel crunches beneath our feet as we take a side path up to the church, cutting through the garden towards a side-gate leading to the grounds. We come out behind the building and take a slow walk round to the front. Neither of us speaks. I’m not sure if I’m imagining the tension in the silence hanging between us, but I’m too nervous about this meeting to break it.
The car park is almost empty, save for one car into which a middle-aged couple is clambering. Our presence draws their attention. They smile at Quinlan until they notice me, and the friendly expressions slide off their faces, replaced by ones of suspicion and loathing. Quinlan glances at me with a slight frown twisting his features. No doubt, he’s noticed the reception I’ve received.
I shrug. “I told you. I really don’t fit in. Look at me, can you blame them?”
He tilts his head to one side, deep in thought, before slowly dragging his eyes up my body and taking in my appearance: the flowing knee-length purple skirt, the matching purple and black top with horizontal slits revealing slivers of bare skin beneath, and the black boots with silver skull buckles to complete the ensemble.
He leans closer and whispers, “Ignore them. You’re gorgeous and much more interesting than they’ll ever be.”
Quinlan turns and walks ahead, leaving me to follow in his wake, stunned into silence by his kind words and the strange stirring they create inside me. In spite of his earlier comment about being friends, I get the feeling he wants more than that. We approach the oaken front doors of the church, and my gaze is caught by the intricate carvings etched into the wood.
He twists the handle and pushes against the door, but it doesn’t budge. Unfazed by this, he withdraws a set of keys from his pocket, inserts a large dull one into the lock and turns it with a loud click. Pushing open the door, he steps into the darkened building, lit only by streams of sunlight shining through the stained glass panelled windows. Quinlan beckons me to follow, and with a single rearwards glance, I enter the silent stone building after him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Frollo
The thud of the wooden front door hitting the stone doorframe echoes around the silent church. I swallow hard, my dry mouth making the action nigh on impossible, yet somehow I manage. A combination of nerves and anticipation has my senses on high alert. Whatever madness prompted me to agree to Quinlan’s scheme has set me firmly on the road to hell, and there can be no absolution.
Quinlan may be besotted with Esme, but his desire can’t hold a candle to the power her allure has over me. I want to worship her luscious body, and when I consider the fact she continues to fear me, it leads me to believe there’s no other alternative but to see this plan through. The purgatory I’m trapped in each day as I desperately fight the craving to make her mine has led me down this evil path.
I’m eager to set eyes on Esme again, but I’m forced to suffer in the knowledge that Quinlan is the one who has successfully lured her here. My blood is racing as various scenarios skip to the forefront of my mind; each one features Esme and me alone. Something about her brings out primal, and dare I say, violent urges within me. An obsessive and incessant need to make her mine runs through my mind like hellfire, burning out the good inside and filling it with the ashes of sin. My nephew thinks he has the upper hand, but his cocky attitude will be his undoing. He’s unwittingly laid all his cards on the table for me to see.
A spark of guilt flares in my gut at how I plan to pluck Esme from his clutches and keep her for myself. I never thought I’d see a day when we would feel more like enemies than family, fighting over the same woman and at odds with each other. However, throughout his ridiculous scheming and our talks on how to lure Esme here for both of us to seduce, not once did I promise to play fair, but then again…neither did he. Who knows what will happen? But I intend to be the victor in this little game of cat and mouse we’re playing with Esme.
I step out of my office at the back of the church, near where the altar stands, and keeping to the shadows, I climb the steps to the pulpit. From my vantage point, I watch the two of them venture farther into the small church. I should’ve been home to greet them both, but I was caught up in church business and couldn’t get away in time. The fact they’ve sought me out here throws a wrench into our carefully laid plans for Esme’s subsequent incarceration, but it needn’t necessarily ruin them. After all, it’s late afternoon, so there’s no one here but us.
“Uncle Frollo?” Quinlan calls out, squinting in the low light as he looks for me.
He knows I’m here, but it’s Esme I’m interested in right now. Her expression flickers for a moment. A brief glimmer of fear is visible in the sunlight streaming across the church in a kaleidoscope of colours through the stained glass windows.
A dark voice inside me whispers devilish thoughts, and it’s hard to ignore. I know it’s wrong for me to fall into the wickedness of temptation, but I’m unable to resist the siren’s call. I don’t want to hurt Quinlan, but I will if he stands in my way when it comes to claiming the pretty she-devil standing beside him. I clench my fists at my sides, willing myself to remain on the path of righteousness and stay in the light of God’s grace. If this is a test, then I'm surely failing.
“We may have missed him, he doesn’t seem to be here,” Quinlan says to Esme as he moves down the aisle leading to my office.
As he walks past the pulpit, he glances up and winks at me. Even though I detest how crucial he is to our plans, I’ll follow his lead...at least until I have Esme trapped within my grasp. Esme isn’t sure about me, but she seems to trust Quinlan enough to come here with him, knowing full well I’d be here. I wonder if she's as drawn to me as I am to her?
He enters the office, leaving the door open behind him, and I watch silently as Esme sits down on one of the long wooden pews to wait for him. With a small sigh, she bows her head. I observed her closely when she attended the Sunday service and noted how out of place she seemed, despite making an attempt to blend in. I don’t believe she shares my faith, but it stirs something within me to see her so respectful now.
Seizing the opportunity to draw closer to Esme without her knowledge, I begin to head slowly in her direction, keeping my footsteps as light as I can manage on the paved stone floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Quinlan leave my office and also start to make his way to where she's seated. We share a silent look, and I move in tandem with him until he’s standing in front of Esme, and I’m directly behind her. My pulse is thrumming, and my muscles are tense as I wait for him to act.
Quinlan kneels and places his hands on her knees, grabbing her attention. Esme raises her head to look at him, and to my fury, he leans forward and kisses her. A soft moan of surprise escapes her, and he deepens the connection while I stand facing him, livid. She continues to remain unaware of my presence behind her. His pale eyes flick open, and he flashes me a challenging look as he puts his arms around Esme and brings her closer to him. Heeding the dare, I lean forward and trail a finger lightly down the graceful curve of her neck.
“Hello, Esme,” I whisper in her ear.
The words are spoken in a low rasp, full of longing. She jumps in her seat and pulls away from Quinlan, tilting her head back to look at me in surprise.
“Pastor Frollo!” she gasps, then whimpers when Quinlan dives at her neck, biting and sucking at the soft skin.
“Quinlan, stop,” she chides, but the lack of conviction in her voice is an invitation to continue, which he heeds without pause.
I cup her chin and run my thumb across her cheekbone as I angle her face towards me. Her eyes flicker to mine and embarrassment shines from within. When she opens her mouth, I don’t give her a chance to speak. I lower my head and steal her words with a vicious, claiming kiss.
Quinlan touching and tasting Esme at the same time is filling me with annoyance, and the agitation create
s an almost violent response. He may attempt to take her from me, but I won’t let that happen. This woman will be mine even if I have to plot and work against him. Right now, though, all I want is to savour her willingness to submit and experience the sensation of her mouth moving in perfect sync with mine.
My movements become rougher, my lips more possessive. I run my hands down over her shoulders, slipping my fingers through the slits scattered over her t-shirt to feel the bare skin beneath. Anger flows white-hot through my body when I see Quinlan lifting the front of her top and latching onto Esme’s nipple with his teeth, eliciting a pained squeak from her. He releases the dusky pink bud, and running his tongue over the tip, he garners a soft moan. Esme is panting. She's already putty in our hands, and it dawns on me how easy it will be to take what we want from her and make her submit to our will and desires.
“We should stop, Uncle, before we find ourselves taking this delectable woman in this sanctuary of yours,” Quinlan mutters, moving his hand up her body to pinch her nipple.
This timely reminder from Quinlan of our location brings Esme to her senses.
“Stop! We shouldn't be doing this. We're just friends,” she says, her voice getting progressively firmer as she attempts to pry his hand from her breast.
When he refuses to stop, she slaps him across the face. Quinlan immediately loosens his hold in shock, and she pulls free. As he lunges towards her again, she jumps up and dodges past him. A scream escapes her lips, echoing around the high ceiling, followed by a loud clatter as she overturns the pew in her haste to escape.
She takes a wary step backwards when he goes to grab her again, and then with a shriek, she turns and runs for the exit with both of us hot on her heels. The door’s locked, so she pounds on the wood, but there’s no escaping from here. The location may not be the one we initially chose, but she's our prisoner now just as we intended. In many ways my church with its heavy stone and brick walls, secluded setting, and secure windows and doors will prove more effective than my home. What better place to commit this sinful act than somewhere built purposefully to house and cleanse the sinners of the world. I stifle the niggling doubts in my conscience, telling me I’ve allowed the devil to step within these walls, and he’ll not be banished so easily.
