Page 46 of Unholy Obsession

I stare at her, my fingers tightening imperceptibly. Gossip. The great currency of communities, small and large. And I know well enough that whispers can turn into a sharp weapon if a man isn’t careful.

She pauses. Takes a calculated sip of tea. Then, her voice drops just slightly. “And I took a risk on you.”

That lands. A direct hit.

I swallow hard.

“You were not the obvious choice for this parish,” she continues. “Your past raised concerns. But I saw something in you. A man seeking redemption.”

My fingers curl into fists beneath the table. I force them to relax. “I appreciate that, Bishop. Truly.”

“Do you?” she asks, her gaze sharp. “Because I have to wonder.”

The air feels thick, pressing against my ribs.

The past. The unspoken thing always lurking between the lines. A past I can’t undo, no matter how many good deeds I accumulate.

Her expression hardens. “Is it serious with this girl?”

Another punch to the gut. It’s the first time the thought has been presented so bluntly.

Serious. The word reverberates.

The second time I met Moira, I promised her she wasn’t alone anymore.

I should have an answer to this question. The last few weeks have just been so… good. Great. Stunning, really. Giving into the dominant bastard inside me… training Moira… satisfying bothour demons while also reaching into the realms of heaven with our pleasure and connection?—

I should be able to answer this fucking question.

But instead, my mind blanks.

Is it serious?

Moira’s laugh, sharp and untamed, plays in my head. The way she moves through my house like she belongs there. Her presence fills spaces I didn’t know were empty. The warmth in my chest when she brushes against me in passing. The way my body tightens when she looks at me with that knowing, unafraid gaze.

I’ve never been a man who lives with an eye toward the future. Maybe it’s why I was never caught in the allure of my father’s money. I live in the now, and in thenow, I knew Moira and I were good for one another. So I never stopped to question tomorrow or next week or next year.

It’s a failing, I realize, if I’m truly to be a good dom.

Because I don’t know what this is between me and Moira.

I don’t know if I can call it serious because I don’t even know if I have the right to hold it in my hands.

But I know it’s something. Something that pulls at me, that makes my blood run hot and my prayers falter.

The silence stretches too long. I swallow, my voice low, when it finally comes. “It’s new.”

The bishop’s expression doesn’t change, but the sharpness in her gaze deepens. “Well, figure it out.” Her words are steely, as is her gaze. “And I’m sure you understand that sleepovers are inappropriate on church property.”

A fresh wave of heat rushes through me. Not shame. Not guilt. Just anger.

She doesn’t understand what this is. She can’t. And yet, she has the power to destroy it before I even know what to call it. Not to mention, we aren’t in the twentieth century anymore. Thechurch has evolved. It’s infuriating that we’re still supposed to live by puritanical nonsense just because some elderly women in the congregation like to gossip. It’s not what we preach but it’s still a standard we’re held by?

Still, I manage to nod once. “I understand.”

Bishop Caldwell watches me like she’s trying to peel me open and figure out what’s ticking underneath. Maybe she is. Maybe she always is.

“Good.” A long pause. Then, a slow exhale, like she’s letting something go. “I heard you’ve been spending time at the correctional facility again.”

---