Priest Novels Novels & Stories

If Hikaru could really make something as good as what they were talking about, he would help to increase her lifespan in this world and maybe the following ones. “Such a young couple but the love you share is so deep and profound...” The priest broke the silence. “You both have rich souls.” Nozomi’s eyes lit up. The priest’s words reminded her of her book. “Head priest, do you know anything about the books’ origin?” The priest looked at the bronze statue of a deity. Nozomi followed his gaze and finally noted the deity’s appearance. It held a book in one hand and a brush in another. Several books were piled up by his side.

Confess her sins maybe? It was only now that she had gotten close enough to get a good look at the priest on the alter. He looked young, perhaps somewhere between his early to late twenties. He wore a black cassock, along with a silver cross dangling over his chest. He had slightly curly dark brown hair and dark eyes. She found yourself immediately drawn to him. He had this angelic, yet somehow dark, powerful aura all around him and in the words he spoke. She listened intently as he preached the words of God, his voice deep and serious

I stood with a chair in my hands and stared at the empty doorway until the present room returned around me—bright, noisy, occupied by a different man in a black cassock. By midday I was carrying a box of the new priest’s books toward the parish library. The cardboard edge dug into my palms. Dust and old paper rose when I shifted my grip. Inside the library the air was cooler, polished, familiar. I set the box down and began shelving. That was when I saw them: the same volumes Cassian had borrowed and returned in the early hours before he vanished, spines aligned with bureaucratic neatness. I knew those books, They were the same books Mr. Halden had told me Cassian returned in the early hours

Almost hypnotised by the sight of it, a blur of black smeared the edge of my vision, and I glanced across the road to see a priest crossing in front of a gelato parlour, a tan leather satchel clutched under his arm, his heavy, dark robes swishing behind him as he walked. I gasped and pushed myself instinctively closer to Ethan, who squeezed my hand in return, barely even giving the priest a second look. 'Not all priests are agents of the Council,' he said, as we continued to walk, and I glanced furtively back over my shoulder. 'Most of them genuinely believe that what they have dedicated their lives to, is the truth. They know no better.'

I'd come for him. Father Damien Cross, the mysterious priest everyone talked about but nobody really knew, the man with the dark past and strong hands who'd supposedly done unspeakable things before finding God. I wanted to see if the rumors were true, wanted to know what kind of man could make married women blush just by saying mass.

Part of me—the part that was still sore and satisfied from last night—wondered if he’d be anywhere near as dangerous as Father Chris. All day the thoughts chased each other. At my desk I kept replaying the way Father Chris had licked my taste off his fingers, the way he’d promised his tongue next. Then the image of some faceless new priest standing beside him ruined it. I wanted the repentance book to be endless. I wanted chapters and chapters of kneeling, reading, aching, coming. I wanted Father Chris to keep breaking me open night after night. I didn’t touch myself once. Not even when the temptation hit hard in the office bathroom after lunch—door locked, panties already damp just from rem

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’t here to play cupid.

Orphanage Home: 213 Lukward Street, Los Angeles. She was shocked and didn’t put it into consideration until she saw another familiar writing on the paper. The old priest stated: “Fred and I. May the Heavenly Father forgive us.” Her eyes widened, confusion hit her hard. “Why would the old priest demand forgiveness from the Lord for him and Fred”? “What’s going on?” she gasped. The room became thick, each walls held secrets of decades. Tension grew. As Secrets are about to be unveiled.

We had breakfast and the sexual tension on the table could be cut with a knife. After breakfast, the two priests guide me outside the dining hall to the chapel compound where they show me around until we get to a separate building which they told me is the library for just them both. Immediately we go in, they show me paintings of popes and some older priests that have worked in the chapel and died. Then they show me books and even read some parts out to me. While father Michael was reading a particular one, I couldn’t help but feel like that book had nothing holy in it from the way it spoke about kisses to breasts to being fruitful and multiplying on the face of the earth through sex.

"I heard the new Priest was a cultist in University. A brutal, wicked one." The eyes of the remaining nuns opened, including Estelle. "We're in prayers time, Nuns. We can't get distracted by gossips." Another nun—Grace, replied. Grace is the most religious here. "But this concerns the Church!" The gossiper said adamantly. "How can a former cultist become a Priest just because he went to seminary school? He's not worthy of—" "Shut up!" Estelle snapped. "He's already Father Tobias. If you think he doesn't deserve to be a Priest, then ascend to heaven and report to God!"