Curse of the Lycan Kings

Pippa's POV

With shaking, freezing hands, I unlock the side door of the church and stumble inside. I slam the door shut behind me and fall back against the solid wood, trying to gather my frazzled nerves.

I had to run through a raging storm to get here today, and twice the lightning hit so close to me that I could smell the ozone in the air and every hair on my body stood on end.

I inhale deeply, enjoying the comforting scent of the ancient old church before I shake myself like a wet dog, splattering water all over the familiar old stone floor and walls. I don’t care much, since I’m the one who’ll be cleaning it up.

Shivering like a tired old cat, I make my way to the sacristy instead of the supply closet to get my cleaning equipment. I’m not generally allowed in the priests’ sanctum unless I’m cleaning it and one of them is with me, but the church is old and drafty and I’m in no mood to get another cold.

I feel like an interloper when I quietly push the door to the sacristy open and walk in on tiptoes as if someone will hear me in the empty church. I sneak to the back of the sacristy to the vestry and switch on the stark overhead lights before I start to rummage through the linen closet for a towel or something to dry off with.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here,” a deep, mellifluous baritone voice speaks behind me.

A shock washes over me. A cold fist of fear grips my insides and I freeze in place, my hand still in the linen closet. My legs start shaking, and I can’t breathe.

I don’t know who is behind me. I know every priest by the sound of their footsteps alone, and I didn’t even hear this one coming. He just showed up behind me like a ghost.

“Miss?” The voice asks again.

‘Maybe it’s not a priest,’ an unwelcome little voice says in my head. ‘Maybe it’s someone who wants to hurt me. One of those men Miss Loretta used to warn us about.’

Did I lock the door when I came in?

I can’t remember.

A warm, heavy hand falls on my shoulder. I gasp and finally come unstuck, spinning around to look straight at the priest’s collar. Almost immediately, I relax. It’s a priest. Probably the new priest Father Abraham said would join us, but I wasn’t here on Sunday to meet him. I was in bed with a snotty nose, feeling sorry for myself.

My goodness, but he smells fantastic. Like the earth and sunshine and summer days in the woods.

Slowly I look up, past his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down just above his white collar. My eyes glide over the strong jaw, beautiful, full lips, straight nose, chiselled cheekbones, and finally into a pair of light green eyes framed with thick, long eyelashes.

He is by far the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. I breathe in and forget to let it go.

He has an ethereal quality about him. Like an angel. And right now, all I can think about is throwing myself into his arms and burying my face in his broad chest.

The thought alone is enough to make me blush. “Sin, sin, sin,” Miss Loretta’s voice starts to sing in my head. “Men are a sin, girls, and women cause men to sin. Stay away from them.”

My face is on fire with shame. To have such thoughts about any man are bad enough, but to have them about a priest? What kind of lustful, wanton woman does that?

If Miss Loretta could see my thoughts now, she’d lock me in the basement and leave me there for days.

“Are you okay?” he asks and runs an impossibly big hand with long, elegant fingers through his wet hair. “You need to breathe.”

Yes, I do, but I can’t.

“I mean it. You’re turning a little blue there…you’re going to pass out.”

My head spins like a merry-go-round and my heart pounds loudly in my ears, but still, I can’t let go of the stale air that’s now threatening to burst my lungs.

“It’s completely normal,” the priest says, “to feel this way.”

What is he talking about? I’d ask, but I can’t speak.

The lack of oxygen is now reaching critical levels and I start to sway in place. “Hey!” the priest says and slaps his hands together in front of my face.

I inhale sharply, filling my lungs a little more, and then the air finally explodes from my lips. I bend double and grab my knees, huffing and puffing as if I’d just finished running a marathon. “Sorry,” I gasp out. “I...I don’t…” I give it up as a bad job and concentrate on my breathing instead.

The priest doesn’t say anything, he just reaches past me into the linen cabinet, retrieves two towels, and holds one out to me. “Quite a storm out there, huh?” he talks as if nothing has happened. “Do you usually leave the side door unlocked like that?”

Feeling a little better, a little more in control of myself, I straighten and take the flimsy little towel from the priest. “I knew I forgot something.”

“It’s dangerous,” he says, and briskly rubs the towel over his light brown hair. “You really need to be more careful.”

I’m enthralled by his voice. It’s captivating, beautiful. Smooth and warm like hot chocolate.

He drapes his towel over his head and gives me a mysterious little smile. “It will get better…easier.”

“Whu – What will?”

“Your reaction to me.”

So cryptic. What is that supposed to even mean? I want to ask him, but all I can manage is, “Okay.”

He nods. “You need to leave. I have to prepare for Mass.”

“You…you’re doing Mass today?”

He gives me an amused little grin that sets my heart aflutter. “That is what priests tend to do, yes.”

“Of course…I-I- will go set out the hymnals.”

The priest glances at an expensive-looking watch. “You have time. I’m a little early.”

I just nod and run from the vestry, the damp towel still around my neck. I rush through my usual routine of preparing the church for service, barely looking around me as I work.

I clean the church three times a week, and the rectory the other three days. In between cleaning, I do other odds and ends to earn my keep. The pay is decent, and I get free accommodation in the form of a little flat here on the church grounds. 

I switch on the lights and practically run through the pews with my dust cloth, swiping it across the wooden benches as I put out hymnals at the same time. It’s not the most glamorous job in the world, but I’ve become efficient at it, and I like working in the church. I grew up here, it’s my home, and I feel safest when I’m here.

I’m out of breath and ready to collapse by the time the priest reappears wearing the green and gold vestments. His beautiful honey-brown hair shimmers in the golden roof lights, which only enhances his otherworldly appearance.

The priest simply ignores me. He turns his back to me and kneels in front of the cross to say his prayers. I stare at his broad back, my mouth dryer than sandpaper. An image of large, rough hands ripping my church dress off flashes through my head and I go a little weak in the knees.

Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! It’s a sin.

He rises, makes the sign of the cross and turns to look at me, a mysterious and somehow knowing smile dancing on his face. “Are you staying for Mass?”

“Nuh- No,” I stutter. “I- I- am taking in donations today.”

“Hm,” the priest grunts. “You can’t do both?”

Technically, I can, but I’m afraid that if I stay in his presence much longer, I will catch on fire. I don’t want to lie to him, so I choose to say nothing at all.

“Okay.” He says when I don’t speak. “I’m Adrian, by the way.”

“Pippa,” I reply.

He holds his hand out. “Nice to meet you, Pippa.”

Without thinking about it, I take his hand in mine and nearly collapse. This is what it must feel like when lightning hits you. A bolt of electricity shoots up my arm and back down my spine, turning my knees to jelly, it runs straight back up my thighs and settles between my legs with an urgent, annoying throb.

Father Adrian stares right at me, devils dancing in his eyes as if he knows what he’s doing to me. He opens his mouth to say something, but I can’t stay here. I can’t feel this way. Not for any man, let alone a priest. It’s wrong in every way.

I yank my hand from his and do the only thing I can think of. I run

I run out of the front door, ignoring the parishioners who are arriving for Mass. They watch me rush past them, but no one stops me to ask what’s wrong. Apart from the nuns and priests, no one ever does. I’m practically invisible to anyone outside this church, and I like it that way.

The rain has stopped, but it’s still cloudy and in the distance, thunder rumbles menacingly.

I dash around the back of the church, straight to the old graveyard, intending to take a shortcut home, but stop dead when I see two identical strangers so close to me that I can hear them talking. “Is it him?”

“I don’t know maybe. I couldn’t see through those weird little windows”

They are not the most attractive individuals I’ve ever seen. They remind me a bit of gorillas. They must be twins, at the very least brothers, with their shaggy, washed-out blonde hair and strange yellowish eyes.

“Why don’t you go in and make sure?” one says. He folds his arms under his chest, revealing a tattoo of a snarling wolf on his left arm.

“You go,” the other says. He has an identical tattoo on his right arm. “I’m not telling Alpha Caspian that he’s here unless we’re sure.”

I quickly start thinking of them as Lefty and Righty due to the opposing tattoos.

“Are you insane? Werewolves in a human church? You might as well put a silver bullet in my head. Do you want me to die?” Lefty asks.

The what now? Werewolves? Are they high? There’s no such thing as werewolves. Is there?

“It won’t be such a big loss,” Righty teases. “It can’t be true, right? The church thing. Nothing ever happens to Adrian.”

“Yes, but he’s a Lycan king…they’re different…protected”

Righty snorts loudly, “I don’t think they’re all that diff-” he looks up and finally realises that I’m right there, shamelessly listening in on the single most bizarre conversation I’ve ever heard in my life. He bumps his brother and points in my direction. “Hey, you. Girl. Come here.”

My stomach turns to ice, and without even knowing why, I start running with no particular destination in mind. All I know is that I need to get away from these two men. They’re dangerous and mean me harm.

“Hey, we just want to ask you about that priest!” I hear one of them call out as I sprint past them.