Page 79 of Sins and Virtue

Chapter 12

Konstantin

I know I shouldn’t be here.

It was absolutely wrong.

Anyone could catch me, and in a moment’s notice I’d be back to prison.

Yet I could care less.

All to get a look at her. A glimpse to satisfy the gnawing sensation in my chest that hurt whenever she was away for too long.

It was a foreign, unknown sentiment. Never experienced before.

Truly because no one, no woman, would have stuck around long enough if I didn’t have money or sex to give. Though it wasn’t their fault, romantic relationships were never a priority or a need, so there was no need to pursue one woman. Hence why I prefer to have subs to satisfy my physical appetite. Two or three at a time for a couple of years until I moved onto the nextuntil I landed in prison. Now, I’ve been celibate for over seven years; shit, I’m basically a born-again virgin.

Shit, it felt like I was waiting to get my cherry popped.

That’s why when she pressed herself against me, mumbling my name in her dream several nights ago, the only response was to take a cold shower while I jerked off to the images of Blair in my fucked-up head.

I didn’t know why she dreamed of me, but whatever it was, I knew something inside her connected with a part of me, like my soul with hers. She just didn’t want to acknowledge it, and I had been ignoring it.

But not anymore.

Especially not after she had taken care of me every day since I escaped the hospital and then almost killed for me, and fuck, after that tender, soft, nearly nonexistent kiss, she made me weak. My world revolved around her, and now she was my world.

That’s why I found myself standing on the second-floor gallery wanting from above in the shadows, leaning against the wall to not make myself so visible since the section was closed off to the public and looked more like food storage, as it contained bags of rice, flour, and sugar. Trying my best to look inconspicuous in a black shirt, dark denim jeans, and boots I borrowed from some donation.

Below me, the mass was in full swing as the choir sangAve Maria,and people stood retrospectively silent, looking on at the holy procession as the priest blessed the communion, kissing the cross as he laid it on the altar and continued handing out the bread.

The moonlight trickled through the stained-glass windows with depictions of saints, and the candelabras illuminated the enclosed space with a golden hue as candles burned with a faint sandalwood scent. The rows of pews were filled by every localman, woman, and child who had missed the morning or noon mass.

However, all the figures and faces began to blur, becoming insignificant hazy orbs, while my eyes trailed over to the one person who mattered the most. The one who made this hell feel like heaven.

Blair, who was standing at the side of the altar in her modest black laced dress and white veil, looked like a saint. Truly with her pale skin, rosy lips, and troubled eyes as she stood in a line with the other nuns.

Her lips moved subtly, repeating the words of the Gospel as she glanced around nervously.

She was a sight for sore eyes.

Something hard constricted roughly beneath my ribs; it made it hard to even breathe. Naturally, I had not been a very nervous man, but she made me feel a mess.

Fuck.

Why her?

Out of all women, this woman?Damn.

You know why. She’s everything we never knew we needed.

No such thing is needed. She’s a want. We can live without her.

Denial.

I’m just taking into consideration this isn’t realistic. She’s a nun.

A nun who hasn’t taken her final vows. She’s fair game. There’s still a chance.