Page 42 of Devour

Because you want to eat me.

Only if you let me. Even thinking about eating me made his response growly.

You make it sound as if I have a choice.

You do. The terms aren’t impossible. Don’t act as if you lack free will.

My brows furrowed at the thought. He was right. I could marry as a deacon. And technically, if I got desperate enough, I could take priesthood vows. I could do either of those things. Yet, part of me wanted Rhory to fight me more on the topic—to hear him wanting me to choose neither in favor of him instead. But who in their right mind would choose to be eaten? And why was I even giving that option any consideration?

If you eat me, how are you going to survive?

Literal confusion, so unfiltered it didn’t form into actual words.

How are you going to get full, Rhory?

A physical shrug in my arms. You sound worried.

On a certain level, I am. Perverse as it may be. I frowned over the admission and ran a hand through his silky hair.

I’ll survive.

Will you? Because I know you can’t fill the same, anymore.

I haven’t really tried. Then he had the audacity to roll his eyes.

Admittedly, I knew Rhory didn’t go out of his way for firsthand as much anymore, but he could. And sometimes, he did. He wasn’t stupid enough to pass up free food.

Lying to me now is even less effective than before, so don’t bother, I scolded.

I’ll figure it out.

You’ve put zero thought into this scenario, haven’t you?

Absolutely none.

Now that annoyed me to no end. I couldn’t imagine life without Rhory anymore, yet he never considered what he’d do without me—never mind the fact I would be gone forever. Somehow, the one worrying how he would continue after he ate me also happened to be the same person he hoped to eat.

You need me. Sounded terrible to think, but in this case it was true.

Probably, yes.

And you’re going to eat me.

Eventually.

And I was right. That was sufficiently depressing. Time to change the subject to something equally soul-sucking.

I knew what I was getting into when I chose my vocation, and the sacrifices I would have to make. None of that deterred me. Even now, with someone closer to me than I had ever let anyone get. Somehow, I let myself slide into this purgatory of maintaining my vows, while skirting what I knew others would consider sinful.

The church would remove me from my position in an instant if anyone from my parish knew. Father Michael, in particular, still made comments occasionally. He seemed to accept my stubbornness outmatched his, but still would love nothing more than for me to give him the excuse he needed to get rid of me. My friendship with Rhory didn’t hold me back.

The problem was, my eighteen-year-old self chose ministry knowing I had very limited options. Coming out to family was not an option. Getting married was not something I thought I could do in all good conscience. Yet, my young self had a desire to help people, and I still did. Only, I wasn’t helping the people of my parish as best as I could. And I knew it.

What I wanted to say, and what I should say, weren’t always the same speech. Day in and day out, I danced along the threshold of what I could tell my parishioners that still aligned with their beliefs yet remained the least damaging. And I hated it, even more so now that I worked with the kids so much. Not much rattled me, but having to explain hell to six-year-olds did the trick.

How would you feel if I left the church?

You want to. You’ve been thinking about it a lot. Rhory sighed again, silently wishing I would go to sleep.

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