Page 19 of Where the Dark Knelt (Worshipped by Darkness #1)

Chapter Twelve

Eveline

I had those erotic dreams again… the kind that left me flushed, wet and restless, making me dread falling asleep. They were too real, too vivid, and every time, those beautiful blondes appeared, seducing me until I felt like I was losing my mind.

And then there was that odd stranger… God, the terrible things he whispered, and yet, for some inexplicable reason, I found myself listening to him with a dangerous sort of excitement, arousal even… Was I truly going mad?

In desperation, I rose in the dead of night, clad only in my thin nightgown, and went to pray.

Yes, at night, yes, on the cold altar steps, clutching a flickering candle in trembling hands.

I hoped — no, I begged — that it would help lift this heavy fog weighing on my mind and soul, keeping me awake and restless.

“Try at least one more time…” I murmured to myself, placing the candle carefully on the altar.

I glanced around the silent, empty hall, no living soul, just me, the silent angels watching with eternal vigilance, and maybe, just maybe, my God was listening, ready to help me in this impossible fight against the demons’ will.

These dreams were their doing, I was certain. Demons, weaving temptation into my sleep, trying to lure me away from my true purpose.

But I would not fall. Not now. Not ever.

The prolonged abstinence had become an exquisite form of torment, my own touch denied for what felt like an eternity.

Each night, vivid dreams and fantasies inflamed my desire, only to leave me aching and unfulfilled upon waking.

The constant, throbbing need pulsing through my sensitive clit was a ceaseless, maddening presence, weighing heavily upon my mind and body without respite.

The urge to succumb to my base instincts and seek relief was rapidly approaching an unbearable peak.

Damn those blondes in my dreams! And why were they always the same hair color?

It was so strange. I wasn’t some blonde-obsessed girl…

and besides, I had an ex-girlfriend. I didn’t even like guys, not really…

It was a long time since I liked a man or something, I was too focused on women those last years.

So why these dreams?

And that parishioner, the stranger, he was different, as if something inside me had stirred awake. I didn’t understand what was happening to me, but I hoped I would find a way out of this torment.

I began to pray silently, the candle’s flame flickering behind my closed eyelids.

I whispered the same prayer over and over, desperate to empty my mind of these erotic dreams that devoured my soul, my thoughts, my energy.

Every time I woke from them, I felt… exhausted.

Mentally shattered. Because no one had ever been so gentle with me…

and no one had ever — oh God — turned me on like that.

“Please, help me fight these demons…” I begged.

Then, a soft chuckle echoed from the shadows at the back of the hall. I whipped my head around, but the darkness swallowed everything whole.

“What the—?”

“Who’s there?” I called out louder, but suddenly my body betrayed me, chains of invisible force seemed to bind me to the altar steps, my knees digging into the cold marble.

“What…” I whispered, my eyes locked on the candle’s flame, which danced wildly and threatened to gutter out. And then, whoosh, someone blew the candle out.

“You’re so funny, babe… can’t sleep?” The low voice from my dreams breathed into my ear, velvety and seductive. A wave of heat rushed through me, igniting a thrill I tried to fight.

“I know a better way to fall asleep,” he whispered again, cool lips brushing my neck. I gasped, a shiver of pleasure curling through me as I closed my eyes.

“Good girl…”

“Yes… give in to me tonight… come on…”

And I did.

A phantom hand seemed to press firmly between my shoulder blades, propelling me forward as my fingers gripped the altar’s edge, desperate for an anchor amidst the rising tide of sensation.

The fabric of my skirt was abruptly flipped up, exposing my skin to the cool, crisp air.

It was a fleeting caress, yet it set my flesh tingling with anticipation.

Then, the gossamer touch of a feather traced along the sensitive inner curve of my thighs, each brush sending electric sparks dancing across my skin.

The lightness of the touch belied the heavy throb of arousal it ignited, stoking the flames of my desire with every pass.

I couldn’t stifle the gentle moan that escaped my lips as a pleasant warmth crept beneath the damp fabric of my panties.

“Oh... damn...” I gasped, my hips twitching involuntarily into the touch as I felt it glide higher, the damp patch on my underwear growing with each passing second.

“Yesss... more sounds, babe...” came the dark, approving murmur from behind me, spurring me to give voice to my pleasure.

As realization dawned, I understood the phantom touch to be fingers, the dream entity’s intent to seduce me now unmistakable.

A thrill of panic mingled with the building arousal, the absurd notion that this couldn’t be real, that I must still be lost in slumber.

Yet, as the digits slid inside my dripping pussy with gentle care, I could no longer deny the exquisite sensation.

The fingers began to move, massaging my aching, swollen clit with increasing fervor as they plunged in and out of me.

Pleasure coiled tighter in my core, the pressure building to an unbearable crescendo with each thrust. My moans grew louder, more urgent, as the demonic entity behind me urged me on with fervent encouragement.

“Yesss,” it hissed, “let it happen, my sweet prey. Surrender to the ecstasy only I can give you...” The sinful murmurs washed over me, stoking the inferno within.

As he intensified his assault, his fingers pistoned in and out of my soaked, clasping heat with ruthless fervor.

Each deep, purposeful thrust grazed my throbbing, aching clit, pushing me to the brink of ecstasy with every plunge.

The relentless stimulation, the way he filled and stretched me completely, had me teetering on the cusp of a screaming, shattering release.

I threw my head back, my voice rising in a euphoric scream as I crested the peak of my long-denied release.

Wave after wave of sheer bliss crashed through me, my first climax in months consuming my every sense.

I surrendered myself fully to the demon’s dark embrace, my eyes fluttering shut in surrender as the pleasure threatened to shatter me.

In that moment, I was utterly his, the demon’s willing victim, ensnared by the carnal delights he alone could bestow. The line between dream and reality blurred, leaving only the exquisite agony of my release and the demon’s triumphant, rumbling chuckle echoing in my mind.

Waking up on the steps of the altar to Eata shaking me by the shoulders was definitely not part of my plans for today. But… there I was. I had fallen asleep right there on the cold marble steps. God, what an idiot I was.

My clit was throbbing again with that desperate ache to be touched, kissed, worshipped with attention and care.

I shook my head from side to side, trying to chase away the lingering heat of the dream or.

.. God… what is happening to me? Why was this so complicated?

When would these dreams end? When would this temptation finally fade away?

“Eveline! What happened? Why are you here?” Eata’s worried voice pulled me back to reality.

“I… I fell asleep. I came to pray at night and…” I stammered, my nerves fraying as she helped me up.

“Oh, poor thing…” she murmured softly, stroking my hair. Then her eyes landed on a black box tied with a gold ribbon, sitting neatly at the edge of the altar.

She bent down, picked it up, and pulled out a small black card from under the ribbon. My name was written on it in elegant golden handwriting.

“This seems to be yours,” she said with a gentle smile, handing me the box.

“Who is it from?” I frowned, my heart hammering with confusion and unease.

“You don’t seem quite awake yet. We’ll talk later, prayer is about to begin. You should change into something more appropriate, lambkin,” she said softly, patting my head.

I clutched the mysterious box to my chest as I walked back to my bedroom, my mind racing. What kind of game is this? I shook the box lightly, but nothing rattled inside. It felt as if it was tightly packed with… something. Something unknown.

Maybe I’m still dreaming, I thought as I climbed the stairs leading to the sleeping quarters. Astra ran past me in her usual morning flurry, smiling brightly.

“Good morning, sister!” she chirped, waving as she disappeared down the corridor.

“Good morning…” I mumbled back distractedly, heading to my room.

I placed the gift carefully on my bed and exhaled deeply. There was so much to do today — prayer, chores, lessons. Whatever this box was, whoever it was from… it could wait.

But as I stripped off my nightgown to change, I couldn’t help but glance back at it, a shiver crawling up my spine.

What the hell is going on with me…

Today Estelle was transplanting flowers all over the vast garden, and she needed every free hand she could get.

So our entire small family worked there together, tending to beds and bushes under the warm sun.

Astra brought us chilled prosecco from her own production, and we sipped it between breaks, feeling the bubbles tickle our throats as we laughed and chatted.