Catholic Fiction Books Novelas e Histórias

I could feel his presence at my back—tall, warm, the faint rustle of his cassock as he moved closer. I kept reading, line after line about denying the body, about offering suffering to God, about the dangers of self-indulgence. My voice shook on the parts about “touching oneself in secret” and “fantasies that defile the soul.” By the time I reached the end of the first page I was breathing faster, nipples tight against my dress, the ache between my legs worse than it had been all day. Father Chris stepped around the table so I could see him. He leaned down, one hand resting on the open book, the other hanging loose at his side. His eyes locked on mine.

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“Ana is a illegitimate child. Her mother had her when she was young and her father is different.” My eyes widen from what I had heard. Where did that rumor came from? Kate hold my hand as she saw that it was shaking. “Are you okay?” She ask but I couldn’t answer. “Maybe her father is the one who’s she was talking to yesterday in the library.” **

I was not the Crimson Priestess and even though I wasn’t sure what that entirely meant to me or the pack itself I would not allow Melina to tarnish that. I started looking at Rogan’s computer and the few books it seemed he had read to get information about who I might be. The idea of him looking at all of these items made me feel good that he cared that much. I picked up the first book which was written by a fellow wolf as it had far too many details about where wolves might be located at. I followed the geographics of the writing and realize that the Cresent Moon Pack couldn't be further than a few days away from us if traveling by wolf. That made the idea of an attack now hard to believe.

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The moon was the only light, although more lights turned on as I began to wander the aisles. Had my grandda been a big reader? I wondered. One aisle had books that were all written in Irish. I pulled one out, curious, but my Irish was rudimentary at best, and I could hardly read a heavy tome that seemed to be about Ireland’s flora and fauna. Other aisles had books in English, most of which seemed to be nonfiction: natural history of Ireland, Catholic treatises, and a variety of Bibles were all collected together. I did finally find a section of fiction, most of the authors being Irish—James Joyce, Samuel Beckett, Oscar Wilde were all there.

Seraphina Vale (9) A couple of weeks had passed since Dorian tumbled headlong into my life, turning my secret affair with Damian into a twisted trio of endless filth. We fell into a dirty rhythm that consumed my every waking moment. From fucks at my apartment, to theirs, even quickies at work where I’d sneak into the supply closet, drop to my knees, and swallow Damian’s cock or take him inside me while he muffled my moans with his tie.

(Elena's POV) I suddenly felt the urge to go for confession; That's the only way I knew I'd see him after his "jealousy show"...I told myself "it was just confession," a normal and right thing to do as a catholic, but the thoughts underneath were different.I had been carrying too much for too long and the weight had started to show up in small ways — distracted prayers, restless nights, the persistent low-grade awareness of something unresolved living in my chest. But I still had an aim of seeing him after confession...It had been announced that other priests are coming to hold confession in the parish, so this was my opportunity to confess my sins before adding more to my judgment book...

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