Page 12 of The Preacher's Pet

Was that what I wanted? For her to submit to me?

That she’d then come back at me with fire and a sharp tongue had made me want to break her even more.

I’m not even supposed to feel this way. How many times have I pressed upon the other Preachers about how sex is giving our power away to another person? It makes us weaker.

Yet here I am after a simple interaction with a girl, and I’m not strong enough to resist.

Full of disgust and shame, I unzip and take out my hard cock. My breath catches in my lungs at the first exquisite touch to the flesh. Gods, it has been so long. I am on edge, primed, and Igrit my teeth as I close my eyes and work my fist up and down my length. My hips move as if I’m actually fucking a woman … fuckingher, instead of my fist.

What would she feel like around me? Tight? Small? Would she be all hot and wet? I groan and slam my free hand against the wall to one side, holding myself up.

An image of Ophelia’s wide, dual-colored eyes, staring at me, as her perfect mouth opens in an O of wonder as I fuck her takes over my mind. It’s not pornographic. I’m not even thinking about her body, just how her face would look as I slam into her. My balls tighten and my spine tingles. I grunt as hot cum shoots up my cock.

It splatters the floor like rainfall, and I open my eyes to see myself painting the wood with my essence.

The moment the last jerks of ecstasy fade, mortification rushes in to take its place.

I shouldn’t have done this. I’m breaking my own rules. I’m a fucking hypocrite.

How do I dispel this negative influence? How do I cleanse myself and the others of her presence?

Am I even acting in the Preachers’ best interests by wanting her to stay away, or am I being selfish? I need to get my mind straight.

I stretch and shake out my hands before zipping myself away and walking to the corner of the room and flipping up the floorboard where I keep the box hidden. It’s easy to spot where I need to pry the wood open because it’s slightly raised.

When I first moved into this dorm, I took the rug up, and it’s now rolled away in the back of the closet. I like the floorboards. The way they feel under my feet in the morning grounds me. Having bare skin on wood is an entirely different feeling than having bare skin on man-made fibers. Every day, when I first awaken, I stand in the middle of the room, looking out overthe forest beyond as I practice some basic yoga movements. So many people spend their time concentrating on cardio, or purely on strength training, and they pay no heed to the importance of skills like balance and mindfulness. My yoga practice encompasses both. It helps me stay present, grounded in the moment, and gives me a calm, focused attention for the day ahead. It also helps with maintaining flexibility, balance, and strength. Yoga lengthens and defines my muscles in ways that lifting weights at the gym won’t. Today, however, after seeing Ophelia in the cafeteria, my yoga hasn’t done me any good at all.

Squatting, I wiggle my finger under the floorboard and lift it, revealing the small space underneath. Within the small hole is the box, wrapped in a white handkerchief. I take it out and carefully unwrap the cloth. The small, dark wooden box sits on my lap.

I stare at it for a long beat then slide the lid off.

Inside is a lock of hair.

Blonde and silken, it shines in the light streaming into my room. I run it through my fingers. Touching it gives me a sense of power and connection to something much greater than I. My grandmother gave me this lock of hair when she was old and frail. She told me it had been handed down through generations. Allegedly, it comes from one of our Norwegian ancestors who was a renowned warrior. I’m not sure I believe that this hair can be as ancient as she claims and still in such good condition. But she believed it, and she kept it and saw fit to pass it to me. Therefore, I’ve also kept it as safe and secure as I can. Sometimes, when I ask the gods for direction, I hold this hair and ask my ancestors, too. Right now, it’s what I need. Guidance.

I sit cross-legged on the floor, the hair resting softly against my open palm, and I ask for forgiveness for my transgression, and help.

How do I resist this temptation that has landed in our midst? How do I keep the three of us, the Preachers, together and strong? Because I’m nothing if not honest with myself, I also ask if my aversion to Ophelia’s entrance into our lives is selfish. Am I worrying about my soul brothers interacting with her because I truly see a danger?

Is there a part of me, a deep-down hidden part of me, that maybe wants the girl for myself?

I ask for the guidance of the gods, the wisdom of nature, the knowledge of my lineage. Then I sit with my eyes closed and let the answers slowly come to me.

By the end of my session, I’m still frustrated because the gods didn’t give me clear answers. They told me instead that I need to take away my doubt and my pain. I must rid myself of the sins that I want to commit. Soon, I will need to go into the woods and find somewhere I can carry out what must be done.

I will force this sin from my weak flesh and hungry heart, and create a space for the truth to flourish.

I need to purge myself of these feelings, and I know just how to do it.

7

CAIN

I planto spend the rest of the weekend on my own. I can’t deal with the other Preachers right now, and if I go to the water tower, they’ll most likely be there. They’ll question me. We normally meet on Sunday and do some shit together. Sometimes we go for a run. Others, if the weather is bad, we might hang out at the tower. Today, I’m going to hang out by myself. I have some reading I need to do for school, but it’s hard to focus.

I keep thinking about Ophelia. The fact she’s here is so fucking weird. What are the odds? Her being here has stirred up so many memories from my childhood. Memories I don’t want to let in, but that plagued my thoughts as I tried to sleep last night.

Fuck, this is making me crazy. I glance at my phone. It’s not even eight in the morning yet, and on the weekends, people here tend to sleep in. I’m guessing that means the gym will be quieter than usual. I decide to go and lift some weights, to try to work some of this tension out of me.

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