Pure & Sinful (Pure Souls) (22 page)

And a smidgen of lust.

Despite his given occupation, Marc knew the look. Though he kept to his vows and remained celibate, a fine looking man like him had been offered more than several opportunities to indulge in the flesh with overeager parishioners who tried to use the confession box as a seduction chamber. He was a mortal man, and wouldn’t deny his mind wandered sometimes before he recalled himself. But looking at Riona Dade reeling from his touch, cresting because of something he had initiated, even if his intentions and motives had been pure and necessary…

The flame lit, and nothing he tried to tell himself was dampening it.

He let his back fall against the wall. “The Awakening is quite a rush, isn’t it?”

“Fuck.” Wickedly, she grinned and threw her arms around him, letting her head fall to his shoulder. “I’ve never, ever felt anything like that. How did you…?”

“It wasn’t me. It was your soul coming to its calling. Feels just like a… um, you know.”

“Yeah, I do.”

She smiled against his chest.

Many times, Marc had comforted tortured souls. He had prayed with the repentant, nursed the sick, and paid homage to the workers of good deeds. Even prayed with Red Socks fans. Together with other Pure Souls, he had stood against evil, vanquished demons. Always for the benefit of humanity, always for the powers of good. He had never thought of himself.

As he felt the rise and fall of Riona’s chest against his, that all changed. He brought joy to her life by revealing her own true being and power to her, and it made him feel good. Enough so that he found himself wondering what else he could say in that moment that would allow her arms to stay wrapped around his neck a little longer.

In the weeks that followed, he forced himself to pull back into a widening shell of sarcasm and snide remarks. He never criticized her ability, but anything about her person he could insult — her hair, her clothes, her choice in what she called music — was fair game. Anything to keep her frustration and disgust with him at a slow and steady boil. Allowing her to think of him as a friend would be too much of a draw. Defining affable, the witch was the type of person who liked to spend time with the people she treasured. It wouldn’t take much for that little puff of smoke that arose when he held her in his arms to grow into an engulfing flame. It would be too easy to fall in love with Riona Dade.

A little voice in the back of his mind goaded him.
So, you already fucked up major by not recognizing Hermosa was a demon, showing how much you suck at being a Pure Soul. Now you’re going to continue showing your dedication to the Church by turning away a supplicant in need of guidance, showing that you’re also a screw-up as a clergyman. Might as well turn in your collar now, Father, because someone who’d do that ain’t worthy of it.

“
Am too,” Marc found himself proclaiming to no one in particular through clenched teeth.

Everyone made mistakes, everyone screwed up sometimes. But the worst failure one could fall victim to was not trying at all.

With a fervent drive and promise to be there for a soul in need, the priest fisted his hand and rapped the door three times.

It was clear from the inflamed swaths of flesh under her eyes and tears wetting her chin that the poor thing was strung out. She wore woe like an accessory. When Riona saw Marc, looking at her perplexed, she broke into a spastic smile and threw her arms around his neck.

“Thank you,” she cried. “Thank you.”

Her smile was divinity, tempting, to be sampled with the tip of his tongue as her wet cheek pressed against his. Keeping his hands behind him, suppressing the desire to encircle her in his arms, he cleared his throat and tried to sound as professionally compassionate as possible.

“I am a servant of the light. If you need help, I am here. If you need me, I’m here.”

Moments later, he found himself sitting on the couch opposite where she sunk into a chair, dotting a tissue to her eyes.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this,” she offered between sniffles. “It’s just… I didn’t know who else to call. And since what happened last night…”

“You mean, what almost happened last night.” For his own self-confidence, he needed to remind himself that they did stop, no matter the reason, before anything mortally sinful had passed.

Her fleeting smile faltered. “Right, since what almost happened, I’ve been thinking. Not just about last night, but about my whole life. I think I finally figured out what my problem is, of where I keep screwing up.”

Confusion clouded his understanding. “You’re one of the most confident people I know. You’ve never come across to me as a person who questions her purpose or decisions.”

It was, in fact, one of the things that drew him to her. Riona made no excuse for who she was while not expecting anyone else to bend their own beliefs to meet hers. Like when he walked in on her making out with that woman. Poor Riona thought when he said “it’s a sin,” he was talking about her activities. She was insulted at his declaration, but she didn’t try to apologize for being found rolling around on the floor with another woman. Little did she know the images that passed through Marc’s mind at seeing her blushing and out of breath in the pursuit of passion: him touching her, making her moan that way, feeling the pressure of her lips under his... She didn’t know of the jealousy that filled him, the envy of that black-haired woman who could explore Riona with her mouth, her hands, her fingertips in a way he never would be able to.

The sins were not hers, but his. Lust, envy, desire. His soul threatened to defect from his vow.

“Marc…”  She shifted, moving to the very edge of the sofa. Her hands reached out and took his into their grasp. “I keep so much hidden from you. Truth is, you’ve made me question why I would do… almost do something like that last night. Even under a charm’s influence, I should be able to resist. I’m the Keystone, right? I have to be stronger than the evil I’m fighting, or we’re all doomed. But when it came down to it, I figured that what almost happened, almost happened not because I couldn’t resist, but because I didn’t want to.”

Her eyes flashed up to his, and he prayed she didn’t catch the hint of a grin he quickly doused.

“You’re right,” she continued. “I do have confidence in myself. To the point that I’m arrogant and self-centered and refuse to acknowledge when I’ve screwed up. I don’t make excuses because I don’t hold myself accountable to anyone. I saw the lust charm as an excuse for me to do what I really wanted to do anyways. And I didn’t care how it affected you or what the consequence was. I was only concerned with getting what I wanted. I guess what I’m trying to say, Marc, is that while I do love you, I loved myself more. I was being selfish and I… Marc?”

His white knuckles wrapped around her hands so hard, he feared he’d break her fingers.
“
What
did you just say?”

“I was being selfish?” Her eyebrows arched.

“Before that. You said… You said that you love me?”

She pulled back meekly, shrugging. “I thought you knew.”

Marc leapt up and began to pace with more professional acumen than a lecturing parent. “You know I… I can’t ever be… It doesn’t matter that…”

He could see a tear in the corner of her eye grow into a dollop, and hear her voice break. “I don’t expect anything, Marc. I know I’m beneath you, that I’m not worthy. I know that someone with a history like mine could never hope to…”

But she never got to say what she could never hope to. He had her pressed to his lips and in his arms before another syllable was possible. His heart pounding in his ears sounded like it was auditioning for the percussion section of the Boston Pops. Its cadence gave him a steady marching rhythm to walk Riona backward, through the door he hoped led to her bedroom.

“Fuck, you’re worthy,” he breathed between kisses, turning his attention from her lips to her neck. She hissed when he ripped at her collar to expose her neck before biting at the flesh where it planed out into the delicate curve of her collarbone. “God, Riona, you’re worth every bit of hellfire.”

When they reached the bed, Riona grabbed him by the lapels and brought his body down over hers. A momentary shot of guilt ran through him when, between tastes of her mouth, he spotted his clerical collar being thrown into the corner. Let it go, he told himself. He was aware enough to know this was the end; he would never preach another sermon again. He was giving in, giving up. He was exchanging the purity of Heaven for the bliss of sin. He was going to make love to this woman, come hell or high water.

So it surprised him when Riona ran her fingers through his hair and pulled his head up, meeting his curious expression.

“No!” she gasped through heavy breaths. Her lips were so swollen and wet, he found it difficult to focus on her words.

He pulled back, gasping. “What? Why?”

“You’ll be damned, and it will be all my fault. I can’t carry that on my shoulders.”

His teeth ground, his blood pressure spiked. “Damn Him!” Marc cried as his brow fell on Riona’s chest. “How can God make someone like you and put you in my path, only to deny me the right to love you properly? And in return, ask me to fight His battles on Earth against evil? How could he ask so much of one man, expect all the fucking pain and give none of the pleasure?”

“It’s no sin to love me, Marc.” Riona’s fingers brought comfort as they stroked his hair. “We just can’t… you know… go all the way.”

That was bloody it, wasn’t it? “Riona, you’re brilliant!”

“I know that, but why do you think so?”

Meeting her lips again, he teased her with minute pecks. “We can’t ‘go all the way.’ It’s a mortal sin. It will damn me, and maybe you. But as long as we don’t… um, consummate, I think we’re safe.”

She glared at him askew. “Are you sure? Can you control yourself that much?”

“You don’t understand how much I’ve been controlling myself since the day we met.” He nodded and laughed. “I’m a priest. I know these definitions pretty damned well. I can’t make love to you, Riona. God, believe me though, I want to. But I can do a lot just short of that.”

Riona grinned as she rolled him unto his back. “As long as we don’t go too far, then?” She began undoing the buttons of his starched, pressed shirt. “Okay, agreed. We stop before we cross the line. But I think there’s a lot …”

Her fingertips trailed a path over his exposed chest. When they coasted over his nipples, he felt a little electric shock connect, making the tips hard under her touch. He thought the roles were reversed — it wasn’t like he had clocked a lot of time in bedroom activities to have a better understanding — but damn if it didn’t make his head spin.

“…that comes before all-the-way, which you might enjoy.”

As her lips came down where moments ago her fingers had been, his eyes rolled in his head. The double-edged blade of the feel of her curves and the lust radiating off her aura was lashing in on him from all sides.

He didn’t need to be damned to experience Hell. Hell was what she was doing to him now, knowing it could never be more than this.

Hell was loving Riona.

Chapter 23

Oh, God. His lips… so caressing, so passionate, so sensual.

But not Marc’s.

Hell, not even really Jerry’s.

As Riona came to her temporarily-seduced-and-distracted senses, rage filled her. The bitch slap that landed on the demon-in-a-demigod’s-wool squarely across the jaw was one for the record books. Jerry took it like a man — which was saying something for Hell’s former number one draft pick — as he rubbed the red mark her vengeance left behind, looking more entertained than anything. A mix of smug delight and awkward confusion played in his expression.

Which just made Riona want to hit him again. Or kiss him. Or hit him.

“I’d stab you for that, Jerry Romani, if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re possessing my friend’s body.”

He shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time you murdered me.” He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “And just so you know, it would be worth dying for. You taste better than I remembered.”

Ramiel recognized the thin line of tolerance on which Jerry was dancing the cha-cha, even if the demon didn’t. He thrust his body between the two, creating a broad-shouldered barrier. Riona wondered if it was for her protection, or for Jerry’s.

“This isn’t what you’re here for, demon. Unless you want to be on the first Hell-bound flight back home, you better finish telling her what she needs to know.”

Jerry nodded and maneuvered his borrowed body back on the corner of the desk behind him. “Oh, drop the holy roller routine, Ramiel. I know why I’m here. Riona, Big Boss has it in for you. I’ve never seen him so determined to harvest a soul in my thousands of years of service. He’s been trying to get at you for the better part of a year now, ever since one of the soothsayers in HR…”

“Lucifer has an HR department?” she interrupted.

Jerry’s answer was accompanied by finger quotes. “Hellish Resources, though if you ask me, it’s not that different from the Earth-side version. Anyways, ever since HR said you’d be the next Pure Soul when the last Keystone was taken out of the picture, he’s been obsessed with you. But every attempt he’s made keeps getting thwarted. Even using me, his number one seducer of the sexes, didn’t work.”

“Don’t give yourself airs, Jerry.”

Jerry’s blue eyes looking out from Dee’s not-entirely-displeasing Grecian face made her breath catch. “Don’t dare tell me I’m not the best you ever had. Has anyone else ever given you four times an hour for three hours straight?”

Even Ramiel turned an incredulous eye to her on that, eyebrows raised. The way she shied away and blushed were all the confirmation he needed.

“You still have that annoying habit of interrupting me when I’m trying to tell you something very important, you know that? Always making everything about sex, too.”

Ramiel caught Riona’s hand and silenced her tongue before either could inflict any harm upon the demon.

“So that message from Dee was fake. Oh, my God, Jerry! I have to call Marc.” She whipped out her cell phone and began punching numbers like a drunken monkey.

“He’ll have blocked Marc’s line. Just ‘cause he’s evil don’t mean he’s dumb. You made it too easy. As we speak, Lucifer is in your apartment, setting up Marc for seduction.”

Ramiel shook his head woefully, but Riona was confused.

“I don’t get it. Lucifer isn’t human. Even if Marc does sleep with ‘her,’ that won’t break his vow to the church, right? It’s not technically fornication, if it’s with a being that can’t, by its very nature, create life. Or at least, I think that’s what Dee told me.”

The corners of Jerry’s mouth peaked. “You know the all-human clause of the Hell-Heaven Accords of 1533? Is this something that has come up in conversation before?”

Riona shuffled in place. “When I first learned about the whole Moral Right truth Thing, I had lots of questions. Being that I
did
s
leep with a demon, and all.”

“But that’s not quite the situation here,” the angel interceded. “The intention, and seeing it through, is a sin under church doctrine, even if the act isn’t technically by agreement of the accords. Marc superseded MRT when he took vows. Even if he sleeps with Lucifer, thinking it’s you, he’ll be just as damned as if he did the real you.”

Riona’s hands became the epicenter of her own personal tremor. “Ramiel, shift yourself to him! Stop them before it’s too late.”

“You know I can’t do that,” he ground out, revealing the depth of his sorrow at that sad fact marring his features. “Angels can only guide and tempt, we can’t fight or force with the use of our angelic abilities. Free will, babe, it’s the unbreakable rule. And I can’t touch Lucifer. He’s way above my pay grade. He’d vanquish me in a second.”