Page 17 of Unholy Fate

Just as our lips were about to meet, Evelyn gasped sharply, her beautiful eyes snapping open awake as she sat bolt upright in her bed. The abrupt transition from dream to reality left me momentarily disoriented, but I quickly regained my balance.

I watched, still cloaked in invisibility, as she panted, shaking, her breathing rapid and uneven. A mixture of amusement and frustration stirred within me.

So close... but you’re stronger than you look.

“Lord, deliver me from temptation,” Evelyn said, her words shaky but determined. “Forgive me for my weakness.”

The fervent prayer might have been endearing if it weren’t so misguided. Little did she know, her “weakness” was the key to unlocking the desires she kept so firmly repressed.

I observed as she rose from her bed, her white nightgown clinging to her breasts and ass in a way that made my fingers itch to explore. She moved to the small basin of water on her dresser and dabbed at her neck and face, clearly trying to cool the heat that lingered from the dream.

Evelyn seemed oblivious to the faint blush that painted her cheeks or the way her hands trembled slightly as she set down the cloth. Rather than indulging in the urges I had so carefully awakened, she sank to her knees beside the bed and prayed in earnest.

Praying against lust, I realized with a wicked grin. An intriguing thought occurred to me. She’d never had an orgasm. The revelation sent a thrill of anticipation through my veins. Corrupting Evelyn Adams would be my greatest triumph yet, and I would savor every moment of her inevitable fall from grace.

Standing in the shadowed corner of her room, I contemplated my next move.

“Seduction, then,” I said, too quietly for her to hear. Slow and sweet and so very satisfying when I reaped her innocence.

Sleep well, my sweet Evelyn. For your dreams are only the beginning.

CHAPTER TEN

EVELYN

The stone archwayloomed before me as I stepped out into the morning light, my mind racing. After that shameful dream, I dreaded facing Father Hudson. Anxiety coiled in my stomach when I spotted him by the garden gate, exactly where I hoped he wouldn’t be.

“Good morning, Sister Evelyn,” Hudson said, kind as always. He gestured to the weeds snaking between the tomato plants. “Looks like the garden could use some tending today. The weeds grow so fast!”

I painted on a look of surprise, willing my expression to seem genuine. “Oh, I thought it was Sister Miriam’s turn.”

Before he could respond, I rushed on. “I have an appointment at the library I can’t miss. Research for zoning variance for the shelter.”

The lie flowed smoothly from my lips. Father Hudson would let me go if it sounded important enough. He cared deeply about the charitable work we were involved with.

Sweat glistened on his brow in the sun’s glare as Father Hudson searched my face.Please, Lord, let him believe me.I couldn’t bear his judgment, not when my soul was already tainted from the dream.

After a beat, Father Hudson lowered his chin. “Of course, Sister. The shelter’s work is vital. I can tend to the garden myself.”

Relief washed through me, but guilt followed close behind, staining the edges. “Thank you, Father. I appreciate your understanding.”

I dipped my head, hoping the gesture conveyed more gratitude than I could muster on my own, and hurried out of the building. It wasn’t a complete lie; I did have research I wanted to do, especially if it kept me from having to grub in the garden.

The library’s cool, hushed atmosphere enveloped me as I stepped inside, a reprieve from the oppressive summer heat. As the heavy wooden doors swung shut behind me, a measure of tension released from my shoulders. Here, I could breathe easier, the outside world and Hudson’s scrutiny safely locked away.

I inhaled deeply, savoring the familiar scent of aged paper and worn leather. The quiet rustling of pages and the occasional scrape of a chair against the polished floor were the only sounds that disturbed the tranquil sanctuary.

Scanning the rows of study tables, I took in the eclectic mix of patrons scattered throughout the space. Students hunched over tablets, their faces etched with concentration. Professionals in crisp suits pored over documents, their pens scratching against notepads. And then there were the wanderers, those seekingsolace and escape within the pages of a book, their expressions distant and pensive.

As I made my way toward the reference desk, my footsteps clicked on the marble floor, a rhythmic beat that seemed to amplify my presence. A prickle of self-consciousness crept up my spine, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that my lie to Hudson might somehow be exposed, broadcast to all those present.

Stop it, Evelyn. You’re being ridiculous.I forced my shoulders back and lifted my chin. I had every right to be here, regardless of my true motives.

The librarian at the reference desk, a middle-aged woman with a kind face, looked up as I approached. “Good morning, Sister. How can I assist you today?” She spoke softly, as if she too was loath to disrupt the library’s serene atmosphere.

I leaned in closer. “I’m looking for resources on zoning laws and regulations for homeless shelters. Anything that might help with the planning and development process.”

The librarian’s face lit up with understanding. “Of course. Let me see what I can find for you.” She turned to her computer, her fingers typing rapidly on the keyboard. This was clearly her forte.

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