CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 32

DORIAN

“Father, practice starts in five minutes.”

Genevieve’s voice floated into my office.

I didn’t look up. My pen was digging into the paper, scribbling notes I wasn’t reading.

“I’ll be there,” I muttered.

When I finally stepped into the chapel, the choir was already warming up. Voices rose, scattered at first, then finding harmony. Lily’s high soprano, Jordan’s low hum.

But no Ezra.

Again.

“Where’s Ezra?” I asked too sharply.

Lily blinked. “Exam season. He said he’d come if he could, Father.”

I clenched my jaw. “He hasn’t been here all week.”

Jordan raised an eyebrow. “He studies like a lunatic during finals.”

“I know,” I snapped. Louder than I meant. Too loud.

The whole room went silent.

I cleared my throat. “Continue.”

They did, but the music scraped against me like glass. Music had never sounded so dry.

Ezra’s absence pressed in like a missing note.

Back in my office, I paced.

Back and forth, back and forth. My rosary beads dug into my palm.

He was avoiding me.

Why?

Because of that boy. That damn boy—Eros.

I saw the way Eros leaned close. The way Ezra laughed. The way his lips flushed pink when Eros whispered.

Did he like Eros?

I should kill that idiot and feed him to the wolves.

God, I wanted to break something.

“Lord,” I growled under my breath. “Help me rid myself of these thoughts.”

I dropped to my knees.

“Our Father, who art in heaven…” My voice was too rough. Too angry. “Hallowed be Thy name…”

But the words felt empty. My chest burned hotter.

Images intruded: Ezra blushing at Eros. Ezra biting his lip. Ezra on his knees, not for God but for—

“No.” I dug my nails into my thigh. “No.”

I tried again. “Create in me a clean heart, O God—”

But the filth only grew.

Later that night, the parish house was quiet. Too quiet.

I sat in the dark, fists clenched on my knees.

He was mine. Mine to guide, mine to protect. Not Eros. Not anyone else. Eros looked like a fuck boy and he wanted to play with Ezra's heart. but I won't allow it.

“Damn it,” I whispered.

I shoved a hand through my hair, tugging until it hurt. My body betrayed me—hard, pulsing with anger and want.

I fought it. I swore I did.

But finally—

“God forgive me,” I muttered, yanking my belt open.

My hand wrapped around myself, furious, punishing strokes. My breath ragged.

“Ezra,” I growled before I could stop it.

I saw him flushed, crying out, trembling under me. Saw myself bending him until he broke.

My hips jerked up, rough, angry, wrong.

And then I spilled, hot and bitter, shame crashing over me at once.

I slumped forward, breath heaving.

“Lord,” I rasped. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

I pressed my forehead to the desk. My chest ached like it might split open.

But still—still—I wanted him.