INSATIABLE, DEADLY DESIRES

CHAPTER 003

CELESTE:

Instinct took over—I clutched my rosary tight and stepped back on trembling feet, trying to escape his gaze.

But in my daze, I hadn’t noticed the presence behind me… until I collided with it.

“Good heavens, child!” The voice snapped. “What is wrong with you?” Her voice sliced through my blurry thoughts like a blade.

My stomach dropped. “Sister Theresa— I—I’m sorry,” I mumbled, keeping my gaze on the ground.

She gripped my arm tightly. “Watch where you're going, girl.” She hissed under her breath, her tone low enough that no one else could hear.

I gave a quick nod, avoiding her eyes. Without daring another glance at the stranger—yes, stranger, for that’s all he truly was—I turned on my heel and hurried away. I needed space. Space to breathe. Space to think. Space to silence the storm raging in my chest and reclaim the fragments of my composure.

Maybe I was just overthinking things. It was the only plausible explanation.

He was in my dreams, and now he somehow followed me everywhere I go.

Still dazed, I wandered the corridor without purpose until I collided with someone again. This time, familiar hands steadied me.

“Hey,” Esme said, eyes narrowing. “What's wrong with you? You look like you've seen a ghost.” She had a worried look on her face.

I took a deep breath, forcing a tight smile. “At this point, I might as well have,” I replied. Her eyebrows twitched as she raised them suspiciously.

“What do you mean?” She questioned.

My throat bobbed as I swallowed. “Never mind.” I dropped my head and rubbed my elbows slowly.

She looked like she still had something to say but decided not to. “Anyway… we should get ready for mass; it's… the funeral.”

My head snapped up. “Funeral?”

“Yes, you didn't hear?” Her voice dropped. “One of the Cardinals passed away last week.”

I made a cross sign with my hand. “ Lord have mercy, may his soul rest in peace.”

“Amen,” she replied with a solemn look on her face.

Esme looked both ways as if fearing that someone would overhear her. “They’re saying it was some kind of break-in… that he was shot during a robbery of some sort. Multiple wounds. It's all very hush-hush, but the Church wants the funeral done quickly. They say it's out of respect, but... I think it's something else. I smell something fishy.”

“That’s horrible,” I whispered, stunned. “A cardinal...”

“I know,” she nodded. “They’re trying to keep it quiet—there’s already too much tension with everything else going on.”

I shook my head. “We shouldn’t speculate. Let's just go pray for him.”

She nodded. “Celeste, you still look very lost…” She leaned closer. “Or are you still thinking about that… dream?” She asked in a hushed tone.

I didn’t answer right away.

But the truth was—I wasn’t sure anymore where the dream ended and reality began.

Esme and I sat together as the funeral processions proceeded. After taking the hymns and prayers, Father Elijah came to say a few words.

“Cardinal Lazarus Grimaldi was a good man…” His voice faded in the background, and when I looked to my left, at the far end of my row, was the handsome stranger.

My breath hitched. As if it was telepathic, he turned at the same time, and our eyes met again. He smirked.

This time I didn't look away; instead, I took in his features, an even closer and daring look.

Strong jaw. High cheekbones. Dark eyes. Those lips… curled into that same damnable smirk.

My gaze dropped to the broad line of his shoulders, the way his black coat hugged his frame. I imagined how those arms would feel around me—pulling me close, devouring my restraint, his mouth at my neck, his hands—

I gasped and blinked hard.

No. No.

This is wrong. I’m in church.

I turned away sharply, clutching my rosary so hard the beads dug into my palm. It was my only form of comfort. Shame swept over me like a fever. My breath quickened, my heart pounding for all the wrong reasons. I couldn’t stay. Not like this.

“I need air,” I whispered to Esme, not waiting for her response before slipping out of the pew and into the quiet of the confessional hall.

The wooden booth creaked slightly as I stepped in and knelt. A few seconds passed before the small screen slid open.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

“Go on, child.” The voice was familiar; it was most likely Father Elijah. But it didn't matter; whatever I confessed here stayed here.

I tried to put the words in simple terms. “I've been having sinful dreams about a man, and now there is a certain man… Whenever I look at him, I feel lust and earthly desires. My friend says it's part of transitioning into a woman. That it’s hormonal, but… I feel dirty.”

“You're not dirty; you are only human,” he said calmly. “Temptation will always come knocking; what matters is how you handle it. Pray for strength and guard your heart.”

I nodded slowly. “Yes, Father.”

“Say thirty Hail Marys. And stay close to the word; an idle mind is the devil's workshop.”

I accepted my penance humbly.

I stepped out feeling a little better. As I usually do. I went to the orphanage later in the afternoon to help out and spend time with the children.

That would take my mind off things. One of the little girls, Alice, insisted on braiding my dark hair while I watched the boys, Gideon and Thomas, stacking together pieces of their block toys.

“You look like a princess, Celeste,” Alice remarked, beaming at her work.

“A tired one,” I teased, pinching her nose. She giggled.

These children were the only source of genuine joy here. “How's your reading going?” I asked her.

She grinned from ear to ear. “I can recite a full chapter from Psalms already,” she boasted.

“That's wonderful.” I clapped and hugged her. Meanwhile, Gideon and Thomas began to argue about who had the tallest castle.

I looked between both of them. “You know, instead of arguing, you could both combine your blocks and then both of you would build the biggest castle ever.” I gestured with my hands for emphasis.

They laughed but took my advice.

“Celeste, Celeste,” a small voice called after me. I looked over my shoulders; it was one of the nannies.

“Yes?”

“There's someone outside the orphanage that wants to see you.” She pointed towards the exit.

I followed her line of vision, and there he was, the man from earlier.

My first instinct was to ignore or run away; that was what my mind was screaming. But a part of me wanted to know why he came here, why he seemed to be following me, and how he knew I was here.

Damn my curiosity.

I shuffled my feet till I was outside.

He flashed a warm smile at me. “Hello again, Celeste. I haven’t properly introduced myself. I’m Christian Adams,” he said — and his voice, that baritone voice, was soothing to my ears.

I should’ve walked away. Instead, I stepped closer.