Page 13 of Obsession

“Yes, I have,” I answer honestly. I clear my throat and grab her hand, my heart hammering. “I’ve… been with a man.”

“Do you still want to be with me?”

I brush the strands of hair from her forehead. “Yes, Margarete. I left The Covenant for you. My desire for a person originates from a source that transcends the physical. The essence of love and passion lives in the soul. Your soul speaks to mine, Margarete. It’s as if our souls have been woven together from discarded yarn and formed into something intrinsically beautiful and utterly unique. I’m not willing to do anything to jeopardize what I have with you.”

“What if you meet a man you connect with one day? Not in the same way, but in a manner that’s just as potent and enriching?”

Her question hangs in the air, and I hesitate, afraid of the half-truths that might tumble from my lips. The only way to create a lasting framework is through complete honesty. So I speak my truth. “I have already. I can’t lie to you. There is a man that speaks to my soul the same way you do.” I breathe deeply, my mind reeling at the outcomes of my choices. “I’ve been with Xander.”

I hold my hand up to stall Margarete when she starts to speak. I need to tell her everything I’m feeling and thinking. “I don’t want to have a relationship filled with lies. I want us to be so in tune and in love that any discussion, no matter how difficult, won’t be taboo. I believe untold truths are no better than lies. Eventually, they fester and grow until they become far more daunting than the original issue.”

“I’m not sure if I should feel betrayed, but I don’t. Does this qualify as cheating? I’m not certain. We believed our whole lives that we’d end up with different people.” She pauses and stares around the room. “Perhaps I’d be okay with an alternative lifestyle.”

“You would?”

“I’ve never thought of love as linear. Seeing Azadeh with her men, how they love each other so completely and with utter devotion, makes me realize that God’s plan isn’t so cut and dried. If the Heavenly Father meant for us to pair, we’d have the same desires as wolves. I don’t think a human’s capacity for love is closed off like that. The Elders would label Azedah’s family blasphemous and sinful, but all I see is love. I think aboutthe couples at The Covenant, the silent anger, the positions of servitude and begrudging of duty, and wonder if it’s all lies.”

I brush away the single tear that slips down Margarete’s cheek with my thumb. “You’re my world.”

The bed squeaks as Margarete moves closer, hesitantly climbing over me. She’s never been this bold before. I’ve always initiated our moments of intimacy.

“What are you doing?”

“Remember that day in the woods?”

Remember it? That day is branded in my memory like a tattoo.

“I want to do what we did that day.”

I cup her chin and lift her face so she’s forced to look me in the eye. I want to ensure she knows what she’s doing, that no doubt or misgiving cloud the depths of her beautiful eyes. “You sure?”

She nods. “Yes.”

Tentatively, I cup her face, lift my head from the mattress, and bring my lips to hers. The kiss is soft, a gentle brush of my lips against hers. There’s a hesitancy in both of us. I fist my hand in Margarete’s hair, holding her close, her warmth tethering me.

“I love you,” I whisper against her lips.

She doesn’t respond with words. Instead, she pushes herself against me. As my lips part, she reciprocates by opening hers, a dance of intertwined tongues that breaks the barriers we’ve built throughout our lives. At this moment, sin, damnation, judgment, and all the other nightmares of our world become meaningless. In the darkness, the only thing that matters is the tangled need of our touch, creating a sermon that leads uson a path to exaltation and freedom. If God shuns us for the magnitude of our love and devotion for each other, perhaps He doesn’t usher in paradise but forces humanity to endure the fiery blazes of Hell.

I roll us over so she’s beneath me. Pulling back, I stare into her emerald eyes, and a sense of peace washes over me. Margarete is the embodiment of beauty and goodness. A part of me believes ravishing her would be a major sin, but another part of me wants to possess her in a way that would force us to be baptized in Hell.

My hand moves down her body, resenting the cotton barrier between my fingers and her flesh. “Is this okay?”

Margarete combs her hands through my hair and lifts her head, pressing her lips to mine. “Yes.”

“If you want me to stop, let me know, okay?”

CHAPTER 9

Margarete

Igrew up believing that my chastity was my greatest virtue. No one spoke about sex in the community where I was raised, but there was an understanding that your virginity was to remain intact until your wedding night.

Ironically, the Elders of our society didn’t believe that the women remained chaste. They needed proof, and on the wedding night, they stood around the bed holding hands, singing hymns as they witnessed the most intimate act between a husband and a wife. This ritual had nothing to do with religious morality or the union of two souls meant to walk in this eternity and the next. The charade was one more act to demean and humiliate women. I often asked my mother why God hated women, but now I realize it was the wrong question to ask. The question I should’ve asked is, why do men fear us so much that they twist the concept of God to shackle us?

My breath hitches, and my skin tingles as Hans lifts my nightgown above my waist. He peers into my eyes. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.”

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