Page 13 of Unholy Fate

The man slid his hands lower, cupping my hips and pulling me back against him. I gasped at the intimate contact and his arousal pressing into my groin.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he murmured things I’d never heard before in that silken voice, words that made me tremble and ache in forbidden places. He was like sin itself, tempting me, promising pleasure beyond anything I could imagine.

This is wrong. I shouldn’t be feeling this. I’ve already given myself.

The other couples faded away. All that mattered was the heat of his body against mine, the strength of his arms around me. My treacherous body thrilled at his touch. I had never known desire like this, had never felt so alive, so aware of every nerve ending. It was exhilarating and shameful all at once.

His lips trailed down my neck, setting my skin on fire with each brush. I shivered, caught between the urge to pull away and the almost overpowering need to lean into his touch, to let him do whatever he wanted to me.

Just as his mouth found my racing pulse point, I jolted awake with a gasp.

I sat up in bed, my heart pounding furiously against my ribs. My skin was slick with sweat, my damp nightgown clinging to my trembling body. Confusion swirled inside me, warring with the shameful ache of unfulfilled desire.

Bending my head, I whispered desperate prayers, begging for forgiveness, for strength against temptation.

Even as the words left my lips, the ghost of his touch on my skin was as vivid a memory as his wicked murmurs in my ear. The intensity of the dream haunted me, taunting me with sinful promises.

It was just a dream. It didn’t mean anything. It was not real.

I prayed until exhaustion tugged at the edges of my consciousness once more. I lay back down and resolved to double my devotions tomorrow, to pray harder and longer thanever before. And work hard, too, to exhaust the body that was misbehaving.

Relaxing into sleep again, the dark room around me faded away as I slipped once more into dream.

The rich scent of sandalwood enveloped me as I found myself sitting in a warmly lit office, bewilderment swirling through my mind. Glancing down, I was startled to see myself dressed in a clingy sweater and short skirt. While we still wore what many considered “normal” clothes, this outfit was much more revealing and unlike anything I had worn since long before my calling.

Across from me sat a man I didn’t recognize, yet there was something about him oddly familiar. With dark hair, sharp features, he was handsome in a way that made me instinctively wary.

He steepled his hands in front of him on the desk. “Welcome. Please, call me Ian. Nobody here calls me ‘doctor.’ ”

Doctor? Wait. Was he my psychiatrist? When did I make an appointment?

Everything is fine. You’re supposed to be here.

Those words flowed through my mind, but it wasn’t my voice that spoke. I blinked, confused, but also agreeing with the words. Yes. Yes, this was right. I’d called to make this appointment. We were supposed to be talking. Yeah, that seemed right, I’d wanted?—

“Evelyn?”

I snapped my attention to him, locking gazes with him. Instantly, peace settled over me. “Uh… yes? Er, I mean, all right,Ian. Thank you for seeing me.”

Ian leaned forward, his demeanor casual yet attentive. “Let’s start simple, shall we? Tell me about your childhood. What was it like growing up?”

I relaxed in my seat, unsure of the dream but playing along with my subconscious. “I... I had a good childhood. Loving parents, a close family.”

Ian held my gaze as he spoke. “Sounds idyllic. You must have been the perfect child.”

My lips curved despite my unease. “I tried to be. But nobody’s perfect.”

“And what about now?” he pressed. “Do you still strive for that perfection?”

I shook my head, a trickle of shame winding through me as I thought of my recent growing list of transgressions. “No. I know I sin. I fall short every day.”

Ian’s eyes seemed to darken, as if he could read my mind. “Everyone sins, Evelyn. It’s part of being human. What matters is how we deal with that sin. What weighs heaviest on your soul?”

The words spilled out of me, a torrent I couldn’t control. “I struggle with anger sometimes. And pride. Envy, too. I know they’re sins, but...” I trailed off, my cheeks heating.

Ian nodded encouragingly. “Go on.”

I sighed and I whispered, “Sometimes I feel like I’m not good enough, no matter how hard I try. But I know that’s my pride talking. I remind myself that God’s grace is what matters, not my own achievements.”

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