FALL OF AN ANGEL

CHAPTER 001

CELESTE:

“—Please… oh, heavens!” I gasped at the contact, feeling the fire burn crimson inside of me.

My dream was on fire.

My body was on fire.

But not the kind of fire they speak of in scriptures. This one was unholy—hot, ravenous, licking at places I had sworn to keep holy. My mind was far away. I was not in the cathedral. I was somewhere darker — moonlight dripping onto a bed of white sheets. And I was not alone.

At first, he was faceless. Just a tall silhouette with obsidian eyes and hands that knew every inch of me. His deep baritone voice whispered my name like a prayer, dragging it over his tongue, reverent and filthy.

“Celeste… my innocent fucking angel.”

I felt his hands grip my waist tighter; his mouth found the curve of my neck, tracing down to my hardened nipples; sucking, and I arched into him—wanting, needing, burning.

“Please… more. I—I want more.” I screamed as his fingers trailed lower, grazing the edges of my purity, and I didn’t dare stop him. I let him sin with me. I begged him to.

His gaze met mine, descending on me like a judgment.

But there was no holiness in his eyes—only hunger; a hunger that could be sated by naught but my flesh.

I sighed as his thumb continued grazing the edges of what I had vowed to keep untouched. I could feel him down there; his breath came out in short gasps, like he, too, was trying to tame the storm between us. I arched my back as hot air bloomed over my skirt.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for, little saint.” He growled, his voice burdened with restraint. I shuddered, yearning for more of his dark voice, more of the power in his eyes; and I spread my legs, inviting what I fully didn’t understand. “Mark my words, and let them not depart from thy remembrance—nobody will ever fuck you the way I will fuck you, Celeste William. I'll make sure you never forget who made you fall. I’m going to show you every side of me, every dark god I serve. And when you meet them, don’t forget to tell them I’m the one you worship on your knees.”

In.

Out.

In.

Fucking.

Loud.

****

With a sharp gasp, I jerked up from my bed. Beads of sweat trickled down my forehead. My breath came in ragged pants. My crucifix sat heavily between my breasts in the dimly lit room.

As I tried to get down from the bed, I realized that I was wet, in between my legs, and this time, it wasn’t sweat. Shame instantly overwhelmed me.

What was happening to me?

I had dreamed of him.

The man with no name.

Shadowed face, velvet voice, sinful touch.

Not only did he call me his “innocent angel”, but he also whispered things into my ear that made my skin burn.

But what was worse—I liked every second of it.

I wanted it.

I craved it.

I clenched the sheets, guilt curling in my stomach like a serpent.

“Oh Lord forgive me,” I whispered aloud, pressing my palms together in trembling prayer. “I don’t know what came over me.”

But I did know.

It was him—the devilishly alluring man in a regal suit, the one I often watched from afar.

The man I tried not to think about when I closed my eyes at night.

The man whose presence haunted my dreams like a temptation I wasn’t holy enough to resist.

***************************************

Three days had passed since the dream, but the memory clung to me like incense smoke.

It was a Wednesday. The soft chime of the bell signaled it was time for dinner. I followed behind the sisters at the far end of the line. Wooden mahogany tables stretched out before us, with simple white cloths laid on them. The air was filled with the faint aroma of freshly baked bread.

In an orderly fashion, each person stood in front of a chair. I kept my head down, hands folded over my belly.

Mother Lucia, the abbess, stood at the head of the table and lifted her hand. “In the name of the Father, Son, and the holy spirit.”

We all made a cross sign. “Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ our Lord.”

“Amen,” we chorused.

Every second passed, and images of that dream kept flashing in my mind. Not now, Celeste.

I shook my head, taking my seat as we began to eat. There was pin-drop silence only punctuated by the soft clinking of cutlery.

Mother Lucia gently put down her fork, staring at every nun before speaking. “We have a very important guest here tonight.” She looked towards the door, waiting.

The door creaked open.

I felt it before I saw him — the shift in the air. That same warmth and aura from my dream. A magnetic pull in my stomach.

Then he walked in.

Tall. Broad shoulders beneath a fitted black suit and well-polished shoes as he stood over 6 feet tall. Dark hair, slightly tousled. His face was exactly as I imagined it up close — no, dreamed it — sculpted like sin, with lips too perfect to belong in a place of worship. His eyes swept the room, and the moment they found mine, he smiled as the breath was punched out of my lungs.

It was really him.

The man from my dream.

The hall shifted in soft murmurs, nuns discussing among themselves as they watched the newcomer. A man, here? It wasn’t common. And yet, no one questioned it. His aura demanded reverence—even from the pious.

Mother Lucia beamed. “Mr. Christian Adam is joining us for supper today. He is one of our church collaborators. He’s generously supporting the restoration funds. Please welcome him.”

He offered a polite smile to the room. “Good evening, everyone.” His voice was soft and velvety, the kind that would leave you in a trance. A thick scent hit my nose, like lavender, warm and comforting.

Christian Adam.

So that was his name.

Of course, his name would be Christian. Some cruel irony of what should be.

Our gazes locked, and my body betrayed me—heart racing, heat unfurling deep inside like the petals of a forbidden bloom.

He walked down the row, past the sisters, past Sister Margaret, past Sister Theresa… and stopped beside me; his hulking frame casting a dark shadow over me.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked, his voice just for me. Raspy, sending shivers down my spine, and also, down there.

I adjusted, straightening my back. I couldn’t look at him directly. “N-no.” I managed. His piercing eyes bore into my skin, and I tried so hard to avoid meeting his gaze. This was the first time we’ve ever been this close. He came to the church weeks ago and has been somehow frequent. I’ve watched him from afar, ever so vigilant of his presence. But now, he was beside me. I could feel his heat looming over me.

“Thank you, Celeste.”

My eyes widened, and I turned to him, daring to meet his gaze. “H-how did you know my name?”

He smirked, a dark glint passing his eyes. “I just do.”

I wasn’t able to dwell on his reply as Sister Theresa’s voice cut through, jolting me slightly.

“Celeste, please take the spiritual reading for today.”

I nodded, grabbing the Bible from the table. “Yes, sister.” I opened the Bible, flipping to the bookmarked page, gaze falling on the passage before I harrumphed.

My voice was small as I began the passage of the day. “Flee also youthful lusts; but pursue righteousness, faith, love, peace…”

“You need to be louder, Celeste; I can barely hear you.” Theresa’s voice cut through sharply.

My voice wavered slightly as I continued, trying to distract myself from the alluring stranger beside me.

Beside me, Christian’s arm brushed mine. I tried not to flinch, but my mind raced. He didn’t speak. He didn’t touch me. Yet, his presence filled every inch of my awareness.

“…with those who call on the Lord out of a pure heart,” I continued, trying to hide the slight shake in my tone.

I felt him lean a little closer, his scent intoxicating me as his breath brushed my ear. “You read beautifully, Celeste. Even when you’re trembling.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, looking up. The other nuns' eyes were closed.

Thank heavens.

Why was he even here? There have been dozens of collaborators who came to support the church over the years, but none ever came to sit with the nuns. None except him.

I didn’t know why he had this effect on me or why he was suddenly close to me, but I tried my best to ignore him, continuing the passage. “…now the works of the flesh are evident…”

My throat dried.

“…adultery, fornication, uncleanness…”

His fingers tapped softly on the table—once, twice, as though in rhythm to a silent promise only I could hear.

“…lewdness, idolatry…”

I faltered for half a second, feeling another brush before continuing, hiding my spiraling emotions behind a weak smile.

“May the Lord bless the reading of His word.”

“Amen,” the sisters echoed.

Later, when supper ended the sisters filed out, leaving me alone with Christian. Why was today the day I had to clean afterward?

I went to take his dish, but his words stopped me.

“Please, let me help,” he said, standing and picking up his plate before I could.

I blinked. “Oh—uh, no, it’s okay. You’re our guest. I can manage.” I didn’t wait for his reply. I gathered the plates and bolted from the refectory as quickly as my legs would carry me.

What just happened?

My breath came out in a shallow burst as I leaned against the cold wall outside. My eyes darted around as they landed on my palm, which had turned white from gripping the tray too tightly.

The dream.

The devil I had just seen with my naked eyes.

The way he looked at me—like he already owned every secret I was trying to bury. Every desire.

It felt like I was still dreaming.

And yet, I was very much awake. And shaken.

I am Celeste William.

A daughter of the cloth. A nun cloaked in devotion, seeking to silence the chaos within me.

But ever since he came, I have felt the pull of darkness and tasted temptation.

And I fear this is where my story begins—the story of a nun who fell from grace.