Page 21 of Wicked (Dark Delights #5)

Isaac

Isaac woke, cold and alone. He drifted through the morning with a heaviness in his heart. His stomach turned at the thought of food, so he drew on a pair of workout shorts and a plain tank top. Maybe he could outrun his demons on the track.

On his way across the grounds, everyone who saw him greeted him and welcomed him back.

He couldn’t do more than nod and smile halfheartedly.

Some of these people had never spoken a single word to him before.

He wondered how many of them had even bothered saying a prayer for him when they heard he was missing.

His mind was preoccupied with arms around his body, lips on his, and Shadrach’s melodic voice saying, “ Come back to me .”

He didn’t sound evil. Nothing about the way he’d approached Isaac last night had seemed sinister.

In fact, seeing him had been a relief. Like a knife had been removed from his ribs, and he could breathe for the first time since he’d escaped.

He’d been held captive and tortured. The relief should be that he was home .

So why did it feel like he’d run the wrong direction?

When he reached the track, he stretched briefly and then fell into a brisk jog. He would run until he ached. Then maybe his mind would be clear.

It was an early morning, and he was the only one on the track.

It wound around the property, through the trees and back.

He sprinted for as long as he was able, shocked by his own stamina after everything his body had been through.

But then he remembered the sweet taste of Shadrach’s black blood—and pushed himself even faster.

It was the reason for his stamina, and though it had its benefits, it would also pose many problems if it didn’t wear off soon.

When the training yard came into sight once again, he slowed abruptly at the sight of Father Hawley standing near the edge of the track.

Dread prickled through him. In jeans and a black dress shirt with a crisp white collar, he looked like he belonged at a small town congregation rather than a guild of demon hunters.

He waved a hand at Isaac, and he knew there was no escape.

He brushed the strands that had come loose from his bun behind his ears as he slowed to a stop in front of him. “Father,” he greeted breathlessly. “What can I do for you?”

“We have a meeting today. Or did you forget?”

Isaac shook his head immediately. “No, sir, I didn’t forget. I was just hoping to get back into my normal routine today.”

“Oh, I don’t think anyone would mind if you took a day or two off to recover. It sounds like you’ve been through quite an… ordeal.” His muddy brown eyes raked down Is aac’s form and back up, and Isaac felt as though there was oil on his skin.

“Of course, Father. I’ll try to take it easy. What time would you like me to come by the church?”

Hawley pursed his thin lips together. “Come by at sunset. I think that’ll be for the best.”

An uncomfortable shiver went down his spine, and Isaac tried to play it off as the breeze hitting his sweat-soaked back. “Yes, Father. I’ll be there.”

Hawley hummed, his eyes lingering on Isaac as his body turned. It set Isaac’s teeth on edge, and he didn’t move until Hawley was out of sight.

Because he dreaded what would come later that evening, the day seemed to fly past far too quickly.

When the sun hung low on the horizon, haloing the steeple, he reluctantly dragged himself from his apartment to walk across the grounds.

He’d thrown a flannel shirt on over his hunter green T-shirt.

He could never put his finger on why he preferred to have an extra layer over his body when he went for one-on-one meetings with Hawley, but the weight of the sleeves was comforting.

The sidewalk was still warm from the sun, radiating heat as he walked, but there was a chill below his skin that he couldn’t shake. The urge to run was greater than ever, but he stubbornly stamped it down.

It was a rare thing for most people to go to the church outside of sermons and confessional hours.

That Isaac was so often seen going for meetings with Hawley was yet another reason his peers found him strange.

He knew better than to tell them what really went on there, and so rumors flew during his teenage years.

None of them guessed the truth, though. None of them guessed that Hawley likened himself to a lion tamer, whipping the beast into obedience.

The rustic wooden door of the church was unlocked when he reached it, and when he stepped inside the quiet foyer, he locked the door behind him as required. It wouldn’t do to have interruptions, after all.

The church was a grand building, with an arching ceiling and twin rows of stained glass windows to the left and right.

Four long sections of pews filled the space, cushioned with green velvet.

They were all angled toward the pulpit, where Hawley already stood waiting, holding a Bible open in one hand and waving the other in the air, as though silently rehearsing his next sermon.

He looked up as Isaac drew closer, smiling disarmingly.

“Isaac, wonderful. Right on time.” He stepped around the pulpit and down the dais steps, gesturing to the pew nearest. “Why don’t you have a seat? Commander Sloan tells me there are some things we should probably discuss about your time with the traitors.”

He braced himself. “Right.”

“I’m sure it was very difficult to see them after all this time. Some of the traitors were your friends, weren’t they? Paladin Morgan and Paladin Accardi, for example?”

Isaac shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t really have friends.”

“Oh, come now,” Hawley said. “I used to see you and Morgan out in the training yard all the time.”

“They think I betrayed them now, so whatever friendship we had is long over. ”

There was a cool silence, and Isaac looked up to find Hawley giving a dangerous, unreadable look.

“Your friendship is over now ? Not before, when they were banished?”

Think, think, think . “It was for me,” he focused on keeping his voice smooth and unbothered, “but now it’s certainly over for them.”

Hawley studied him for a long, inscrutable moment. “Hm,” he finally said. “The Commander also mentioned that they tried to tempt you. Can you tell me about that?”

He didn’t want to. The urge to get up and run was almost overpowering.

He hadn’t wanted to flee this badly since that moment in the shower, when he’d realized he was alone and it might be his only chance.

He’d give anything to be back there now, under the hot spray and far away from the cold gaze of the judgmental priest.

But maybe he needed to confess. Sometimes speaking the sin aloud made it easier to bear, right? If he gave voice to the strange longing in his heart for Shadrach, maybe Hawley would have the right response to silence it.

Ignoring the little voice in his head that insisted he didn’t want his feelings for Shadrach silenced, he opened his mouth and started speaking.

“There was a demon there who tempted me,” he said, staring at a distant spot on the floor so he didn’t have to look at Hawley’s face while he said these secret things.

“He came into my dreams, although I didn’t know he was really there at first. He told me he could be good to me.

He made me feel things, want things, that I’d never had before.

He touched me like he wanted to own me, and for a little while, I wanted to let him.

” He closed his eyes and let his head fall.

“I managed to escape after he took me into the bathroom for a shower. He… came into the shower with me, put his hands and his mouth on me. I knew it was a sin but I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop.”

Anxiety pounded like a drum below his breast as Hawley stared at him silently.

He resisted the urge to raise his head, certain he didn’t want to see whatever expression he wore.

Admitting a demon had defiled him was one thing.

Admitting he’d liked it was something else entirely.

If confessing was the only way to rid himself of these complicated feelings, maybe it was for the best. Maybe he’d walk away from this meeting feeling like himself again.

“I’m proud of you for telling me this,” Hawley said. He paused, and a long silence descended—one Isaac had no intention of breaking first. “Would you like to be absolved of these sins?”

No . “Yes.” No other answer was acceptable.

“Good.” He sounded pleased, and that oily feeling was back, dripping down Isaac’s spine. Hawley gestured to the floor before the pulpit. “Remove your shirt and get on your knees.”

Like he had weights tying him down, Isaac stood, peeling his flannel and T-shirt off and leaving them on the pew. Hawley watched his every move. He’d never enjoyed these punishments, but he was expected to be grateful for them. If he didn’t show his appreciation, Hawley made the next one worse.

When he was kneeling in the middle of the floor, Hawley stepped closer.

“Not to worry, Paladin Morrow,” he said, coming to a stop right in front of him. “Soon this will all be over, and you’ll never have to worry about that demon again.”

Isaac looked up at him, uncomprehending. “What? ”

Hawley smiled, slow and poisonous. “I think we’ll try something a little different this time.”

Ice churned through him. “Different how?”

“Remove my belt.”

Isaac’s mouth went dry as bone. “Why?” He felt so wrong-footed. Hawley hadn’t gotten the whip from his office. He had no idea what to expect next, and the possibilities were too numerous. Whatever was about to happen, he was certain he wouldn’t like it.

Hawley’s gaze sharpened. “Remove my belt, Paladin Morrow.”

Sweat dappled Isaac’s back as he raised shaking hands to loosen the priest’s belt. He’d never asked Isaac to do anything like this before. A distant alarm began to blare in the back of his mind. This didn’t feel right. But Hawley’s word was law, like Sloan’s.