Priest Novels & Stories

Caitlin grabbed a chair and sat down adjacent to me, her bare thighs squashing down onto the seat as she folded her ankles and leaned back. She gestured with her hand to let me continue, almost impatiently and I cocked an eyebrow at her with a small smile. This woman… "If," I emphasised. "You're willing. Your target would be Lucas Trevino, software engineer and owner of Godfather nightclub." I paused for her reaction and she simply just nodded her head waiting for me to continue.

I kept my voice neutral even though hope was clawing up my throat. "This door." He traced the pattern without making contact. "I know this door, I've touched it thousands of times but I can't remember why or when." "You worked here." I moved beside him. "You were Father Damien Cross and this was your church and you heard confessions and gave sermons and tried to save souls you thought were worth more than your own." "That doesn't make sense." He was still staring at the door. "Why would I become a priest, what possible reason would make that seem like a good idea?"

The priest realized that his approach must be compassionate yet unwavering—a delicate dance between empathy and accountability. The weight of responsibility hung heavily on the priest's shoulders as he planned his meeting with Ronin. He understood that this encounter would be a pivotal moment, one that had the potential to change the course of Ronin's life and bring an end to the Masons' reign of terror. The priest resolved to approach Ronin not as an adversary, but as a voice of reason, hoping to ignite a flicker of self-reflection within him.

Wasn’t there a rule about priests abstaining from worldly sinful pleasures such as sex and alcohol? This priest that the young Baron brought back to his territory resembled a hooligan more than a holy man. Father Clarence would be shocked to see this heathen. “Oi! Are you the lad with impressive medical skills?” the drunken priest greeted and threw another sack of coins on the table, gambling his hand of cards with ladies in his lap. The underaged chef grimaced at how this NPC was sucking tongues with the local barmaid. He didn’t want to think about their complicated sleazy relationship as he wasn

Hunter thinks that Priest sold his soul to the devil or something. Priest rises from his chair and raises a questioning brow. He’s an intimidating fucker. Which is saying a lot to someone my size. Priest’s about six foot two with wavy brown hair and silver eyes. He’s muscular but not weight-lifting muscular. Sleeker, like a jaguar. The other Assassins and I like to give him a hard time because he’s the ultimate pretty boy. Women literally swoon when the guy walks into a room. It’s almost embarrassing. I remember we went drinking once, and some girl walked up to him and asked him to marry her. No j

priest Deacon scoffed, it sounded to Rex like Deacon was a supporter, “General Christopher takes all the ruffians, criminals and vagrants from this realm and they become part of his Phoenix army and they fight off magical beasts to prevent them from entering this realm and wreaking destruction.” “Please Priest Deacon, I prefer Chris, all this formality irritates me, that is why I stay away from the city and keep to myself” Chris replied, getting agitated and shifting on his seat. “Of course great general, please excuse my words, I meant no disrespect” Priest Deacon added, a sly smile creeping the

Raen collected himself and tried to put as much determination as possible into his voice to cover up his insecurity. “To be a priest means total surrender to our exalted God Hyaun and to the holy communion that nourishes us; the careful maintenance of the ancient customs, rites and ceremonies in the language of the ancestors; the study and management of knowledge. A priest also provides relief for the emotional pain that our warriors endure for us, and he provides them with the Zhangha recipe. But he should always and mainly have an open ear for every member of our people, regardless of what grade or caste it is, and should medi

His ability to say all this with a straight face while flashing his teeth was to be considered an art, he should have ventured into acting while abroad, he was really good. “Guards, call the priest in!” He commanded, his loudness further heightening my nerves. Everyone watched the door in alert while I kept my eyes on my mother and frowned as she tore her gaze, her face morphing into a frown. I followed her movement in time to catch the heavy footsteps of the guards as the escorted a priest, and I understood my mother’s reaction. This was no ordinary priest, he was the oldest reverend in our islan

“Let’s just say you got lucky. Your baby is safe, too. We finally met, Miss Katherine Dela Torre. Let me properly introduce myself. I am Jonathan Valencia.” I looked around and found the owner of that voice. It was coming back to me now. That was the last voice I heard before I passed out. He was wearing a black trench coat and was casually sitting in one corner while sipping coffee. He had long and straight jet-black hair and a pair of blue condescending eyes that seemed to have the power to read through me, through my heart, and soul. How could this man be a priest? He didn’t look like it. He looked like a man who was used to giving commands inside a very el

one of the officers barked. “I’m Father Smith from the st.patrick’s cathedral in Harlem, I’m here to pray for Mr. Summers not to harm him” the priest said. “We get you sir but Mr. Summers is under protection for now, due to the attempt on his life yesterday, so we would need to search you before we can allow you to do whatever you want to do” another officer said. “But I’m not a criminal gentlemen, I’m only here to do what I’m supposed to do as a priest, and that is to show compassion” the priest said, looking furtively around the room as he spoke. He would rather die than let them search him.