Forbidden (The Preternaturals) (3 page)

Then she stood in front of him. Her usually cool skin seemed to burn him
as her hand caressed his cheek. “Help me out of this, will you?”

She turned away, and he was faced with the back of the corset, all laced
up. His hands shook as he fumbled with the laces.
I want her. I want her. I want her.

The corset joined the boots, and she turned back to face him. Her eyes
never left his as she hooked her fingers underneath the fabric of the
panties, pressing them down over her hips and gracefully stepping out
of them when they hit the floor.

Even without a command to direct him, his hand closed over her breast and
he found himself stroking the hardened nipple. Hadrian came back to
himself, pulling his hand away as if he’d been scalded.

She laughed. It was a laugh that filled the church, that seemed to taint
it somehow and make it unfit for its intended purpose.

“Someone will come in,” he said. It was unlikely at one in the morning—even
in this city. But the fear still pressed on him. It was bad enough
that God should see this, but he’d lose his post if anyone else found out. His mind had
already moved beyond the idea that he could bring himself to stop
her. He couldn’t find enough motivation even with the threat of
getting caught.

“It would be the last thing they ever did,” came her cryptic reply.

Her hand felt cool in his as she led him onto the platform beside the
altar. Moments later, the goblet of wine rang out like a gong as it
clattered to the ground along with the tray that had held the bread.
The tray made a reverberating sound as it tried to settle out flat
like a coin that had fallen on its edge. It was the greatest
sacrilege, the body and blood of Christ being carelessly tossed
aside, but he couldn’t focus on that right now. There wasn’t room
in his brain because of the one repeating thought that crowded
everything else out.

I want her. I want her. I want her.

His own voice chanting in his mind wouldn’t let up for even a second to
clear the path for any other, more sane thoughts. Her hand was down
his pants now, stroking his bare flesh, causing him to harden
impossibly further. Moments later, she divested him of the rest of
his clothing. He was her toy. His body and mind were both fully
committed as she pressed him against the altar and mounted him.

She felt like silk. It had been so long since he’d been inside a woman.
He’d forgotten the exquisite warmth, muscles tightening around him
to take his pleasure deeper. Mystical experiences aside, how could he
have stopped doing this?

You could have been doing this for years instead of denying yourself.
What good has any of that denial done? How many people have you
helped? How many have better lives than they had because of you? How
many keep turning back to their evil while you are left to deny,
deny, deny that you’re human and have needs and… Holy Virgin
Mary.

He wasn’t sure if the voice in his head was his own or hers. Until the
last thought. That had been decidedly his. He’d forgotten the power
of orgasm, its own sacred ritual. Perhaps that voice was right. He
shouldn’t have denied himself. How many priests really did?

Angeline arched her back and rode him a few more seconds before collapsing on
his chest in a fit of giggles, her conquest accomplished.

Hadrian looked around, becoming aware of his surroundings again. He’d had
plenty of rationalizations, but now, in the quiet aftermath, the
guilt weighed on his conscience. Not only had he broken his vows, but
he’d done it in the most lewd way imaginable. If they didn’t
strip him of his post and duties, he would do it himself. He couldn’t
stand behind this altar again and pretend he was a good man.

“Get off me.” He didn’t recognize his own voice. It was cold, hard,
everything he’d fought not to be in spite of a fucked-up world that
never seemed to get any better or brighter. But right now, he just
wanted to kill the woman draped over him. He wouldn’t feel an ounce
of remorse for it. He wanted to kill her, because if he could, maybe
he could also kill the sin he’d just committed, erase it while he
erased her.

He wiped that thought from his mind. Murder was worse than sex—at
least a little worse.

She raised herself, and he tried not to stare at her breasts as they
dangled free in easy reach. As disgusted as he was with himself and
with her, part of him wanted to do it again.

“And we will,” she said. “I just had to try you before I made a full
commitment.”

Hadrian’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t spoken aloud. He may be feeling out of
sorts, but he knew that much. She responded to things he hadn’t yet
verbalized. How was that possible? He pushed her away and scrambled
off the altar, searching for his clothes, trying to get a clear
thought to pulse through his muddled brain.

As the fog cleared further, he entertained the idea that there was
something preternatural about Angeline’s seduction. She couldn’t
be a demon, but she was something. She must be. It was the last thing
he held on to, reassuring himself that this wasn’t something he’d
do of his own free will.

“What are you?” He’d known something was wrong from the beginning, but
now he was sure. Perhaps she
was
a witch. Maybe he should have
taken such a threat more seriously rather than treat it like a joke.

“I am your maker,” she said.

“My maker is God.”

“Originally, perhaps. But I’m about to improve you, elevate you to something
truly remarkable.”

Hadrian’s eyes widened as Angeline’s lovely face transformed. Her eyes went
from brilliant, hypnotic blue to a fiery red in the blink of an eye.

She’s a demon. Of course. But how?

“Actually, half-demon. Vampire, in fact. But good guess.” Fangs descended, and
then she moved impossibly fast.

He jumped back, thinking surely he was about to die, but she was only
playing with him, showing off.

“How are you able to be in a church? Have you worked magic to breech the
protections?”

“
Half
demon,” she said with exasperation. “The other half is human. And
if you think you are stupidly optimistic about people’s ability to
change, you’ve got nothing on God. If I was full demon, I wouldn’t
get past the threshold of a church, but the human half gives me an
in.”

Hadrian backed up an inch at a time. When he bumped against the altar, he
took down a crucifix that had been hanging on a small nail. She
advanced, not having seen the danger.

When she was close enough, he pressed it against her face. It wasn’t
right that she should be able to get inside a church. Once he got rid
of her, he’d find a way to ban her from entering ever again. She
let out a horrified shriek and leaped back as smoke rose off her
flesh, leaving behind a bright burn mark.

“I see I was still left with weapons to defend myself,” he said.

The mark faded, leaving perfect creamy complexion behind.

“That was stupid. When I’ve turned you and you are mine, you will pay for
that. We’re alike, you and I. In more ways than you know.”

“I will never be yours.” He gripped the crucifix more tightly.

A dark smile. “You’ll be my little bitch begging for a bone when
I’m done with you. You have NO idea the power I have.”

Since the revelation of Angeline’s true nature, Hadrian had gone through
each bit of vampire lore he’d ever heard. He wasn’t sure which
parts were true. He hadn’t made eye contact with her since the word
vampire
had passed her lips, and he hoped it was enough to
keep her from enthralling him further. A plan was forming, but it
required keeping control of his own mind.

She moved like a viper and struck. Father Hadrian took in a sharp breath
at the sting of her fangs, but a moment later he got his bearings and
began to chant.

“
Exorcizo te, immundissime spiritus, omnis incursio adversarii, omne phantasma,
omnis legio…”

Angeline pulled away from his throat. Her face was gruesome, her lips painted
with his blood. “Ooooh baby, talk Latin to me some more.” She
laughed maniacally as if she were the author of the best joke ever
told, then went back to feeding.

Father Hadrian felt himself weakening, but he continued the chant until the
room went dark.

***

Angeline picked up the priest and laid his body out over the altar like a
human sacrifice. He’d lost consciousness only moments before. He
truly was a beautiful specimen. She allowed her fingers to run over
the contours of his face and down his chest to more intimate areas.

She’d sealed the wound on his neck from her bite, but there was still a
trail of blood down his neck and shoulder, and a bit on the upper
part of his chest. She’d always been a messy eater. Angeline
trailed her tongue over the remaining blood to clean him up.

Maybe it was the long time he’d gone without a woman, but she’d felt
him, been inside his head as he’d been inside her. It had been
everything she’d hoped. He looked so peaceful in the in-between
place.

She could still let him die. Until her own blood was inside him, he was
on borrowed time. She could almost hear the imaginary clock ticking,
counting down to the moment when she couldn’t bring him back and
he’d cross over for good into the next world.

She nuzzled Hadrian’s throat, soaking in the last bit of warmth from
his skin. She’d miss it. Perhaps she should have kept him alive
longer. Human pets were common enough. It was nothing to be ashamed
of, but she’d already closed the door to that option by drinking
too much. She’d been too greedy. The taste of him had burst across
her tongue, a unique blend of despair, guilt, goodness, and a kernel
of something darker. Something she recognized. Something she could
work with.

His emotions had been a sophisticated blend meant for a discerning
palette. After druggies, drunks, whores, and the random simpletons on
the street, Hadrian had been the one intoxicating agent she couldn’t
get enough of. It had been hard to stop in time. She still felt
herself spinning with it. Her skin hummed and buzzed with the
euphoria of flavors so passionate and complex, so much repressed
power and desire and darkness.

Hadrian’s pulse slowed; time was running out. For the briefest moment, Angeline
thought about letting him go. What if he wasn’t the right priest
for her? He’d seemed almost resistant, even with all of her
hypnotic powers thrown into the mix. He might be hard to tame. But
she’d searched for so long already.

It would be a waste to let a fine specimen like Father Hadrian die and
decompose. Worse than a mortal sin, even.

Angeline tore into her own flesh and held the priest’s mouth open, allowing
the blood to flow into him. It was so poetic. Only moments ago he’d
been inside her. Now she was inside him. It would link them forever
and give her power over him—at least for a time. She vowed that by
the time she was finished with him, by the time he got old enough and
strong enough to break free, he wouldn’t want to. He’d want to be
hers forever.

Her own sire had only wanted a toy to play with, someone to abuse and
break, but Angeline wanted a mate. Surely Hadrian would see that in
time. He’d come to understand that it was all for a greater
purpose. He’d love her, and she’d find a way to love him back.
That ability had to still be in there. She just hadn’t used it in a
while.

It took only a few moments for her blood to revive him enough for his
throat to start working of its own accord. She breathed a sigh of
relief as his mouth formed a suction around the wound, and he drank
with the desperation of a man who wanted to live.

That had to be a good sign.

***

Hadrian found himself bathed in a bright, yellow light. It was a light of
judgment, the kind no evil could pass through. No one had to spell
this out. He just knew. It was knowledge like the sun is bright and
people breathe air—self-evident. A short man stood behind a golden
podium in a white robe. In order to see over the top, he stood on a
small ladder.

Hadrian looked down to find himself wearing his clerical clothing. It was the
only normal thing in a sea of pure weirdness. He spun in a slow
circle, taking in the vast, circular golden room with the many doors;
he moved curiously toward one of them. His hand wrapped around a
doorknob, ready to explore the environment further when a throat
cleared behind him.

“Father Hadrian? I’m afraid you can’t venture beyond this waiting area.”

“Am I dead or am I dreaming?” They were the only two options he could
think of.

“Neither. You’re transitioning into something else.”

The man didn’t have to say any more. The fuzzy memory became sharper.
Angeline. Hadrian winced as memories of what they’d done—what
she’d done
to
him—drifted through his mind. He had the
vaguest sense of having drunk her blood, as well as the vaguest sense
that it had been the best thing he’d ever tasted. Something was
wrong with that thought.

“So this is where you go when you die?” He knew how things worked, but
his training hadn’t included an afterlife diagram.

“It’s a sorting area, so to speak,” the man said.

Hadrian thought that was an odd reply. “Then why am I the only one here?
Don’t many thousands of people die every day? Where are they?”

“You humans all think the same way. You’re so used to being bound in
place and time, you have no idea the vastness of what is out there.
Yes, many others are dying and encountering their own version of this
room. Do you think we’re so poorly organized that we’d have you
all in the same place, waiting indefinitely to be dealt with?
Besides, this could all be happening in your mind, couldn’t it?”
The man stepped down from the podium, collecting a large book that
rested open upon it.

As he passed, Hadrian saw the book had his name on it, and he wondered
if the stories inside were mostly good or bad.