Page 23 of Lake of Sin

“Kiss my foot,” I whispered.

He froze. The praying had stopped, and so too had the cries for my return. The only sound in the abbey was the faint flutter of flame and of men breathing. In and out. In and out. Oliviero finally began to look up through his long lashes. A flush had bloomed upon his cheeks.

I do not know why he obeyed me, but ever so slowly, Oliviero leaned down without breaking eye contact and pressed his lips to my raised foot. His grip tightened around my ankle. I wobbled, forced to clutch his shoulder for support. The movement of my groin caught his eye, just briefly.

“Did you not hear me?” I asked him.

“I heard you.”

“Then?”

“Why would God have sent you to Hell? You were kind, Alessandro. You were a good man. You stand before me now—agoodman.”

Guilt swarmed me. It hurt to destroy this image, but I needed him to know the truth.

I wanted him to know whose foot he had just kissed.

I pressed forward with my foot, grazing his freshly shaven chin. His mouth opened in surprise. I could have pressed my foot inside his mouth if I had wished, made him suck, defiled both him and this ritual all at once.

“I sent myself there,” I told him. “I whored myself to a demon. I made a covenant. Oliviero, can’t you see? I want to free you all from your shame, a chain whose cuffs bite your skin for all your lives. You can be free of them.”

The chapel’s blissful quiet shattered. “Blasphemy!”someone called at the back.

“The bishop! We need to?—”

“No demon may enter this holy place!”

“It is not Alessandro! A demon wears his?—”

And throughout all the chaos, Oliviero still gripped my foot.

He looked up into my eyes and didn’t pull away even as the commotion increased. The doors were thrown open, and some of the novices and priests fled. It could have been deathly silent or an orchestra of screams, and I would have heard nothing but the uneven breathing of the beautiful man before me.

He surprised me by speaking first. A furrow in his brow, something in his eye. Fear had gripped his heart, but the way he clutched to me suggested he did not find me terrible.

Lowly, he said, “I dreamt of you, once. I dreamt you had me on my knees.”

In my memory, I had said, “Open,” and he had obeyed. In this second chance, I reached out, and he moved forward so slowly that I doubted he was even conscious of his movement.

Tears pricked in Oliviero’s eyes. “I desired you carnally. You defiled my mouth.”

“You wanted it,” I whispered, a low growl forming in my throat. “Youbeggedfor it.”

Oliviero’s eyebrows crashed together, and I thought: Had that been a dream? I thought it had been a fantasy of my own design. But what if I had slipped into Oliviero’s filthy concoction?

What if he really was likeme?

Suddenly, Oliviero stood. Blood had made his cheeks a vibrant red, but he managed to appear calm. He clapped his hands together, and the sound echoed throughout the chapel, calming the storm of panicked voices instantly.

“Calm, brethren,” he said. “I can deal with this. This demon has not come for any of you; it is a test for me. Don Alessandro was my fear friend and mentor. Calmly exit the chapel and close the doors. Go into private prayer—pray for the rest of the night! Whatever sounds you hear, do not open the doors to this chapel until I emerge. I will contact the bishop in the morning when I am victorious. Go, now. Quickly!”

His words encouraged a few pleas for his safety, but all of them fled. If everyone thought me a demon, so be it: I had told them all my true nature.

In the end, it had always been Oliviero who I wanted to know me.

It had always been Oliviero I had desired to corrupt.

When the doors finally closed, I watched him carefully. He stayed staring at those doors with his hands clasped. I could hear his breathing and smell the sweat that had started forming on his body. He glanced over his shoulder at me with a sudden gasp as if surprised I was still there.

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