Fear the Wicked (Illusions Series Book 2)(35)
She trembled at my closeness, her eyes closing as my breath brushed over her cheek. Standing behind her where Gentry couldn't see, I trailed my finger down her spine, stopping when I'd reached the small of her back. She bucked against my touch, greedy for any small sensation.
"Would you allow any man to touch you? Any man at all?"
Tears welled in her eyes, glistening against the green. But still, she played her part well, knew not to question me, talk back, or even use my name. I'd instructed her earlier to be compliant, to allow Gentry to fuck her if that's what he wished to do. It was just one more way to drag him in, to lock him in place under my control. His guilt over his own actions would render him obliged to every future request I made of him.
"Yes."
Flicking my gaze up at the man standing before her, I welcomed him closer. "Would you like to see for yourself how deep her lust has infected her?"
Nodding his head, he stepped closer, his eyes roaming her body with obvious want, his hand reaching out to run a finger over her exposed breast. Eve didn't move away, didn't flinch or act with shame as he palmed the weight of her breast, his lips parting and his body tensing more with the carnal need he was feeling.
Anger erupted inside me. Anger and a overriding need to push him away. It had been my intent all along to allow his lust to take over, to tempt him into acting in a manner a good Catholic husband would never abide, to then blame her demon as the cause when his guilt set in. I would have claimed it had infected him due to her proximity, to illustrate how easy it was for the madness to spread through the town, but I found the sight of someone else touching her maddening.
Not just maddening...I wanted to wrench his hand off his damn body, stick it in a blender, and feed it to him as a lesson of what happens when you touch something that's mine.
Why hadn't I had the same reaction when the hand touching her body had been Jacob's?
Regardless of the question, I decided against the show, decided that his ease in murdering another person was enough for one night. Snatching at his wrist, I yanked his fingers away from her skin, pulling back so hard, that he had to move with me just to keep his shoulder from being pulled from the socket.
"Careful, Gentry. You are a married man are you not? Her lust is infecting you and you’re allowing it without question. This is what I mean when I’ve said how easily the evil spreads." With an ominous whisper I reminded him just how far he'd stepped out of line. It would have to be enough. If he'd done anything else to her, I would have killed him.
He winced at the remark.
Even that small contact had been enough for him to consider himself a sinner. Even more than pulling a trigger and ending a man's life, he would regret his desire to fuck her. It was a central theme through all religions, I'd long ago realized: that the desire for sex was somehow more of a crime than taking another human's life.
"We should leave," I suggested, struggling to maintain my composure.
After clearing his throat, he agreed with a clipped nod.
Turning to lead him from the room, I only looked back at Eve as he stepped through the doorway. My eyes scanned down her body, coming up to meet her eyes and I wondered about the odd emotions I was feeling.
JACOB
Running up the steps of the parish at exactly nine in the morning, I had a metal box tucked beneath my arm and a feral determination to find answers to my questions. Anger coursed through my veins, only deepening with every passing hour, my body tense and energetic despite my lack of sleep. I'd spent the entire night reading over my father's confession, damning the man that raised me and staring at several pictures that sickened me.
Bursting through the door, I found Father Timothy standing at the stoup just inside the doors, his hand moving to bless the water.
"How long have you known?" My voice boomed against the vaulted ceilings and thick walls.
He didn't so much as flinch in response to my anger. Calmly finishing his prayer, he lifted his knowing eyes to pin mine with understanding. "Perhaps we should go somewhere private to have this conversation."
I ignored the calm tone of his voice, refused to let it soothe me. "How long?"
Glancing back to ensure we were alone in the immediate area, he returned his gaze to me. "Since before your father died. But I won't have this conversation out here." Turning he took a few steps before saying, "Follow me."
My jaw ticked with frustration, but I quietly followed nonetheless. It didn't matter where and how he gave me my answers, just that he gave them at all. Barely able to control the fury coursing through my body, I walked with him past the large stained glass windows, gold crosses and statues of Mary, finally breathing out a steady breath when we reached his office down the long hall.
He led me inside, turning to stare back at me once I'd walked fully inside.
"Close the door," he requested. My hand hit the knob at the same time someone called for him from the opposite side of the hall. His annoyed expression matched my own. Stepping past me, he spoke low. "Wait here. I'll see who it is and take care of their issue quickly."
He was gone before I could stop him. I considered rushing after him, demanding his time over whatever issue that other person had in mind, but I knew doing so would only work against me in the end. Father Timothy hadn't done anything to warrant my level of aggression, except for keeping his mouth shut on a secret that could tear his parish apart.