Page 35 of The Idol

“No,” I whispered. “Go away. Please.”

It throbbed in response to my plea. I didn’t want to touch it. I despised how it seemed to mock me with my own impurity.

“Please go away,” I whimpered.

8

Jace

I knew I’d gone too far.

I’d expected Elior to blush. Maybe gasp. Maybe look at me with those big, wide, innocent eyes and get a little flustered.

Ihad notexpected the full-body shiver or the soft, desperate, downright addicting sound he’d made. I hadn’t expected him to look like he was going to fall apart on the chapel floor with a single touch.

And I definitely hadn’t expected him to avoid me afterward like I’d struck him with lightning.

Three days.

Three days of Elior going stiff when I joined him for morning walks, of answering me with short, quiet responses, and eyes cast down. He looked like he was terrified of me—or at least terrified of what I’d made him feel.

Fuck.

I hadn’t meant to spook him. Manipulate him? Sure. Tease him? Definitely.

Butscarehim? That wasn’t what my goal had been.

Had I jacked off several times since then from the memory of it? Yeah.

There was just something about him that made me want to ruin him.

I needed to control myself better.

On the day after confession—the day he wouldn’t even meet my eyes—Malachi preached about repentance.

I’d watched Elior from the corner of my vision the whole time, and with each flinch, each nervous twitch of his fingers around his robe, guilt twisted tighter in my gut.

And then Malachi called a woman from the pews.

Sister Michelle—a middle-aged woman, tired-looking, like she’d stayed up all night worrying.

“The sin of sloth,” he’d declared with theatrical disappointment, his voice echoing through the rafters. “It may not seem as evil as lust or wrath, but don’t let that fool you. Sloth is the gateway into a life full of shadows. Last week, Sister Michelle let sin control her. By skipping out on two days of chores, this Sister has spit on us all. She thought herself more important than the rest of us, leaving other members to take on her abandoned duties.”

He made her stand before everyone while he spoke about discipline and diligence. And then—

“Jumping jacks,” he ordered. “For the remainder of service. Do not slow.”

She’d barely made it to twenty before the tears started. Elior had flinched with each sob, sinking deeper into that ornate throne of his.

His hands had trembled in his lap. He’d looked like he wanted to run to her, but was rooted in place.

Malachi didn’t care. Not when she started to stumble. Not when her breathing turned wet. Not even when she begged.

By the end, she was crying so hard her whole body shook, dropping to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

And Elior? He looked shattered.

The whole scene was sick, but I couldn’t help but be distracted becausenothing had happened to me.