Unholy Cravings: A Collection Of Steamy Stories.

Chapter 1: Sanctum Abbey

I stepped through the heavy oak doors of the monastery, my chest aching under the weight of everything I had left behind.

At twenty two, I'd lived a life of reckless indulgence. I'd spent nights with lovers I barely remembered and days chasing pleasures that never seemed to fill the emptiness inside me. My last relationship had been the final straw. I'd been involved with a married man, and when his wife found out, she came at me with a knife. It shook me badly, and it forced me to look at the consequences of my choices. For the first time in years, I wanted something different. I wanted atonement, and peace, and a chance to find out who I was without all the distractions I'd used to avoid looking at myself. Whether a monastery was the right place for that, I had yet to find out.

The air inside was cool and smelled of incense and aged wood, a big change from the heat outside. Sunlight came through the narrow stained glass windows and laid patches of blue and gold across the stone floor. My simple white dress felt out of place among the dark wooden pews and old religious paintings. I smoothed the fabric nervously, suddenly aware of how little I knew about the life I'd chosen to enter.

Two figures came out of an alcove near the altar. Priests, of course, the guardians of the abbey, sworn to celibacy and devoted to God. My breath caught as they walked toward me. I'd seen their photographs before I came, but the pictures hadn't done them justice.

The first was older, maybe in his forties, with salt and pepper hair cropped close and eyes the color of storm clouds. Father Elias Hawthorne carried himself with quiet authority, his hands clasped in front of him while he studied me. Beside him was Father Thorne Blackwood, a younger man in his thirties, with an athletic build, chestnut hair that refused to stay neat, and a crooked smile that made him look almost boyish. Almost. There was a sharpness behind that friendly expression, and it made me wonder what he was really thinking.

I knew both their full names by heart, yet I couldn't remember the name of the last man I'd dated. That should have embarrassed me more than it did.

Why was I looking at two priests so closely? I was here to pray and reflect on my mistakes and learn some self control. Instead, I was standing in the entrance hall wondering whether either of them ever smiled outside their official duties.

Get yourself together, Elara.

As they got closer, I felt a sudden urge to turn around and leave. The place was a lot more intimidating than it had seemed when I made my arrangements. But I stayed where I was.

"Sister Elara," Father Elias greeted me. His voice was deep and calm, and it carried easily through the quiet hall. He gestured toward a nearby pew. "Welcome to Sanctum Abbey. The Mother Superior told us why you've come. We're here to guide you toward redemption."

I nodded and followed them to the pew, and somehow I ended up sitting between the two men. The silence that followed was uncomfortable. I wasn't used to sitting quietly with my own thoughts, let alone in front of people who might expect me to talk about them.

Father Thorne folded his hands and turned to me. "Tell us," he said, his tone gentler than I'd expected. "What burdens brought you to our gates? Confession is often the first step to understanding ourselves."

I swallowed. Where was I supposed to begin? The string of failed relationships? The married men? The lies I'd told to protect myself? The years I'd spent telling myself that as long as I was enjoying my choices, I had no reason to question them? Or the emptiness that was still there after every distraction ran out?

"The truth is, I don't really know how I ended up here," I admitted.

Father Elias watched me closely. "Maybe you know more than you think, Sister."

I looked down at my hands. "I've made a lot of mistakes. I've hurt people, and I've turned into someone I barely recognize. I kept telling myself I could stop whenever I wanted, that nothing mattered as long as I was having a good time." I paused, trying to find the words. "But something always went wrong. Someone always got hurt. And at some point I started wondering if I was running from something I didn't want to face."

Neither of them interrupted, and their patience made it easier to keep going.

"I don't want to live like that anymore," I said quietly. "I want to understand why I keep making the same mistakes. I want to learn how to be alone without feeling like something's missing."

Father Elias inclined his head. "That's an honest beginning."

"An uncomfortable one, too," Father Thorne added with a small smile.

I couldn't help smiling back. "Very uncomfortable."

"Change usually is," Elias said. "But you should understand that redemption doesn't come from just removing yourself from the world. It takes discipline and honesty, and a willingness to face the parts of yourself you'd rather ignore."

His words hit closer to home than I wanted to admit. I'd imagined that coming here would be an escape, a quiet place where I could forget my past and walk out a completely different person. Apparently I was going to have to do the hard work myself.

"You'll join our morning vigils and help with the daily duties in the scriptorium," Father Elias went on. "You'll also have time for private reflection and prayer. We expect you to take your commitment seriously."

"I will."

Father Thorne studied me for a moment. "And when the routine gets hard, don't mistake that for failure. You're here to learn, not to prove you're already perfect."

I glanced at him. "Do people come here expecting to be perfect?"

"More often than you'd think."

"Then they must be terribly disappointed."

His smile widened. "Sometimes. But disappointment can be a good teacher."

For the first time since I walked in, some of the tension left my shoulders. Maybe I could manage this after all.

Father Elias stood up. "I'll show you to your room. You should rest before tomorrow."

I got up and followed him, with Father Thorne walking beside us. The monastery was bigger than I'd expected. We passed narrow corridors lined with paintings, a small library full of old looking books, and a courtyard where a few residents worked quietly among the plants. Everything seemed designed to make you think, which was almost unnerving. I wondered how long it would take me to get used to the silence, or whether the silence would force me to face the thoughts I'd avoided for years.

Father Elias stopped in front of a plain wooden door. "This is your room. It's modest, but you'll have everything you need."

I stepped inside. There was a narrow bed, a wooden desk, a small wardrobe, and a window overlooking the courtyard. A Bible sat on the bedside table, its pages yellowed with age. It wasn't luxurious, but there was something comforting about how simple it was.

"Thank you, Father."

"You're welcome, Sister. Supper is at six. Until then, settle in."

Father Thorne stayed at the doorway while Elias walked on down the corridor. "If you struggle with the adjustment, don't hesitate to ask for help," he said. "The first few days can be hard."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"And Sister Elara?"

I looked up. "Yes?"

"Try not to judge yourself too harshly for who you were before you came here. What matters is what you do next."

He sounded sincere enough to catch me off guard. "Thank you, Father Thorne."

He gave me a short nod and left.

I closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed. For the first time in a long while, I was completely alone. No phone calls from secret lovers, no arguments with suspicious partners, no frantic attempts to convince myself I hadn't made another terrible decision. Just me and a quiet room, and the uncomfortable fact that I had no idea what to do with myself.

◊◊

I spent the afternoon unpacking my few belongings and looking around the room. When evening came, I washed my face, changed into a fresh dress, and made my way to the chapel. I told myself I was going to pray, and I meant it. Mostly.

The chapel doors were slightly open, and inside, rows of candles lit the room. Father Elias and Father Thorne knelt before the altar with their heads bowed. I hesitated at the entrance because I didn't want to interrupt, so I stayed where I was and waited for them to finish.

A few minutes later, Father Elias got up and turned toward the doorway. "Sister Elara. Come in."

I stepped inside. "I wasn't sure if I'd be disturbing you."

"You're welcome to join us whenever you wish," he said. "Prayer isn't a performance. You don't need an invitation."

"Silence is hardly disturbed by someone else looking for peace," he added.

Father Thorne stood beside him, brushing the dust off his knees. "Besides, the chapel isn't exactly a private club."

I laughed before I could stop myself. It was a small, ordinary joke, but it loosened something in me. Maybe these men weren't as intimidating as I'd first thought. Or maybe I was just getting more comfortable around them.

We spent the next few minutes in prayer. I couldn't concentrate at first, because my mind kept drifting to old arguments and bad decisions and whatever was coming next. Slowly, though, the noise in my head began to settle.

When we finished, Father Elias asked me to sit with them for a moment. "Tell me, Sister, what do you hope to find here that you couldn't find anywhere else?"

I thought about it. "I want to stop making decisions that hurt me. I want to understand myself. And I want to believe my past doesn't have to decide my future."

"Those are worthwhile goals," Elias said.

Father Thorne nodded. "But remember, no place can make those decisions for you. Not even this one."

"I understand."

"Do you?" he asked, without any judgment. "Because tomorrow, when the newness wears off, you might start questioning why you came."

"You're very encouraging, Father."

His quiet laugh surprised me. "I prefer honesty to false promises."

I stood up, feeling lighter than I had when I first walked in. "Then I'll see you both tomorrow."

"At morning prayers," Father Elias reminded me.

"I'll be there."

◊◊

I went back to my room, changed into my nightclothes, and climbed into bed. Outside, the monastery went dark, and somewhere far off a bell chimed the hour. I lay there staring at the ceiling, thinking about the two priests and the strange mix of comfort and unease I felt around them. They were patient and smart and easy to talk to, and still something about Sanctum Abbey unsettled me. Maybe it was the unfamiliar routine. Maybe it was knowing I couldn't hide behind my usual distractions anymore.

Whatever it was, I had a feeling my time here was going to challenge me in ways I hadn't expected. Tomorrow, the real work would begin.

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. For once, I had nowhere else to run.