Chapter 27 - When Desires Are Confessed Part 1

Although Ysabelle was worried sick about Father Marcus’ welfare, she was still able to doze off the moment she hit her bed. Fatigue and exhaustion is always the drawback of having to chaperone her niece and take pictures of the class tour all day long, and sleeping is always the best cure of it, especially when it is uninterrupted the whole night. Ysabelle was hoping to experience that, but her uninvited visitor had other plans.

The bedroom door opened and closed without making a sound. No footsteps were heard too as the room’s carpet muffled it. But Marcus was present and was inching his way closer to the sleeping woman.

Her face and chest were gently illuminated by the moon’s light passing through the half-open window. A bed sheet covered her warmly, but under it, she was wearing a loose-fitting, cropped tank top and a flimsy sleep short — the most comfortable sleeping garments she had ever worn. Gone were the thick, uncomfortable skirts, the itchy wool fabrics, the rough cotton, and the impractical animal cloth she had used over the thousands of years she had lived. If there was one thing that she was happy about during the world’s changes, it was the fashion sense of its people. A change that she had welcomed almost without question.

Gorgeous was the fall of her hair on the pillow. The plumpness of her lips, the rosy blush of her cheeks, and the thick drape of her eyelashes added to the breathtaking sight. Marcus —or the entity controlling his body —produced a pleased grin.

H removed an obstructing pillow and seated slowly at the edge of the mattress, in Ysabelle’s right side so that he could see well how her cleavage was exposed nicely. A little lower than what it was, her pink nipples would have been exposed.

Staring at her sleeping form, H acknowledged that she was a beautiful sight to behold. No wonder the brotherhood had appointed notable families to protect her, to keep her untouched since they found out she was an immortal. No wonder André Rogratiatto fell in love with her and volunteered himself to be the sacrifice. No wonder Marcus was the same, but H had felt another different kind of connection between the two the moment he infused himself inside the priest’s body. Some kind of connection bordering more than any human emotion itself. This — he did not understand what.

“Ah, but all of their hard work will be for nothing, ” he crooned, taking a satisfying sweep of his eyes on the now-exposed woman when he disintegrated the bed cover with a flip of his hand. “Your most guarded virtue is mine, woman, and I am going to enjoy taking it. Marcus is going to learn what it feels like to fuck a woman.”

With his attention on her cleavage, he raised his hand again and hovered it above, intending to cup one generous mountain. This he did while licking his lips, actually looking forward to sucking on the taut peaks. But leaving only an inch left before contact, H paused and clenched his teeth.

“Fuck, this is so easy, ” he grumbled and stood up, disappointed. He eyed an available chair across the bed near the armoire and this was where he decided to sit, crossing his legs and resting both his elbows on the armrests. He licked his lips again and brushed his thumb below Marcus’ own damnable lips. “Let’s make this complicatedly fun shall we?” he said, grinning. And then, a violet mist surrounded Ysabelle in her bed.

***

It didn’t feel like Ysabelle was in a dream when she found herself in a cave. She could feel the coldness of the ankle-deep water in her feet and the soft texture of the sand beneath them. She could feel the wet garments she was wearing and how it clung perfectly in her curves. She could distinguish the scent of the place too — an earthly scent similar to lemon and eucalyptus mixed with the salty air.

The cave was a massive earth formation that stretched fifteen storeys high. Rocks of black and violet walled the inside, while a shallow to deep water in blue shades centered the area. It was magnificent in its entirety, but there was nothing that could compare the scenic picture just a short distance away from her.

It made Ysabelle’s eyes wide, caught by its beauty.

Though it was a gloomy place, the beam of the moon — if it was the right source of light — left it mystical and captivating. The yellow light rays were fixed in one area alone as if it was spotlighting gemstones instead of grouped smooth-surfaced rocks. There was a waterfall of roots, beginning from the cave ceiling hole down to the sandy body of water. The place itself offered a sweet chance of rest and this was exactly where a man was resting, sitting in one of the medium rocks with his feet on the shallow water and his right arm pillowing his head. He was naked from the waist up, wearing a wet black trouser that was clinging onto his limbs. His eyes were closed, lips slightly parted, and his expression peaceful — or so it seemed.

Ysabelle’s breath hitched. With one look alone, she immediately realized who the man was.

Marcus.

He was Father Marcus and God, this man looked like he was venerated by the cave.

If only she had her camera in her hand, she would have taken continuous pictures of him, but she didn’t, so she committed the sight to memory, tucking it in the safest place of her thoughts so that she alone can enjoy it.

Ysabelle neared him without so much as a thought, mesmerized by the way he shined under the light.

“Marcus...” she whispered quietly when she was but a feet away from him.

Though it was not her intention, she lifted up a hand, unable to resist the temptation of sweeping a single rogue lock from his forehead. But then, she yelped, suddenly caught up by the wrist with Marcus’ strong grip.

Their eyes met, each one with a degree of surprise and bewilderment.

“Ysa-belle?” Marcus whispered her name like she was some damn ghost miracle.

She tried to pull her hand away but failed miserably.

“Marcus! I mean—ah, Father Marcu—”

“Why are you here? How did you get here?” he asked, not waiting for her to finish. He pulled her closer, not having to use too much force for she easily swayed under his hold.

Ysabelle’s free hand, in response, shot up in between them. She was nearly out of balance and if Marcus would have pulled her more, she would have stumbled directly into his hard chest.