The Priest Of Corruption Chapter 1 Mga Nobela at Kwento

The candles burned black, and the stained-glass windows no longer merely reflected the moonlight; they seemed to leak it, as if the sky itself was bleeding into the room. The priestess stood at the altar's heart, arms lifted high. Her voice flowed through the chamber like smooth oil, weaving words that seemed to stretch into infinity, syllables older than any scripture. Giovanni watched from behind her. Dressed in a new suit as dark as obsidian, he wore a relic around his neck—a jagged, hollow medallion etched with the same spiral symbol found in the book of hollow. “How long until she breaks?” he asked. Though the priestess continued her chant, her voice shifted slightly, like a melody deep

Scared. “Mom. You need to come. Now.” In the medical tent, Helena was examining Leighton. He was convulsing. Black veins are spreading across his skin. Eyes rolling back. “What's happening?” I demanded. “The corruption,” Helena said, hands glowing with healing magic. “It's spreading. Fighting back against your purification attempts. It's like... like it's alive. Defending itself.” Leighton screamed. “Let it take me!” he gasped. “Just let it—”

His words drag a whimper of neediness from me, and I'm on the edge of begging him for more when his hand finds the buttons of my jeans, flicking it open before he unzips the zipper. With a sinister grin, he tugs my pants and underwear off in one swift movement. Instinctually, I clamped my thighs shut a blush of embarrassment spreading across my face. “Don't hide from me, Nova,” he growls, his hands prying my thighs apart. “I want to see the beautiful cunt that will be milking my cock in just a few moments.”

Through priests who vanish from sanctums overnight. By dawn, the city knows. The King is hunting. Not criminals. Not rebels. Moon collaborators. I take a priest from the outer sanctum next. He hides behind etched wards and whispered prayers, hands shaking as moonlight flickers across his face. “The Moon protects...” he begins. The bond snarls at the sound. I step through the ward like it is fog. His eyes widen. “That’s not possible.” I put my hand through his chest. His heart beats once in my grip before I crush it.

Only when the worst of their shaking had eased did Alaric sit across from them. “Now,” he said quietly, nodding once to Declan. “Tell me.” Declan did not hesitate. “There was a Farisee,” he began, voice steady despite the weight of it. “But corrupted. Not wounded. Not unbalanced. This was something else entirely.” His jaw tightened. “I have never seen corruption like that in one of our own. Not in records. Not in rumor. Not even in the oldest forbidden accounts.” Alaric’s fingers curled slowly against the table.

Father Damien cleared his throat, walked up to where she was lying, and poured the water gently on her skin, chanting some prayers he had learned earlier. “Oh Lord, by Your mercies, let her be cleansed,” he kept saying those words until he emptied the cup of incense water on her. It fell on her delicate skin gently, causing Anna to slip into her womanly wants. She almost let out a moan but held her tongue. I don’t want to corrupt this priest, even though he’s young, she thought. If only she knew he wasn’t a priest—and that there were many secrets yet to be unfolded. Damien dropped the cup close to the incense bowl, walked up to Anna, made the sign of the cross, and told her to stand up witho

Corruption or no corruption. She was my mate after all. She clutched her head, still wrapped in my arms. “It’s in me,” she gasped, her emerald eyes flickering with pain. I caught her, pulling her against my chest. Her body trembled, the corruption seeping into her aura. My heart hammered, desperation clawing at me as my brain scrambled for something that I could do to stop what was happening to her. Gideon stomped over, his gruff voice cutting through the chaos. “Purge the damn ritual—do it now!” he barked, pointing at the stones.

Every time you raise the host, you will leak for me. Damien shuddered, ass still twitching around the buried length. The demon leaned down, lips brushing the priest’s ear. “Chapter two of your fall is complete. Tomorrow night… We finish it on the high altar during the consecration. With witnesses.” He pulled out slowly, leaving Damien gaping, leaking, ruined. The priest collapsed across the desecrated cloth, body trembling, mind quiet for the first time in years, filled instead with the echo of ridged heat and backwards Latin.

Chapter 2: The Altar of Ruin Trope:Forbidden / Clergy / Corruption Heat Level:[NOIR X3] "Look at what you’ve done to me." His voice didn't just break the silence.. it shattered it. He hauled me out of the confessional, his hand clamped around my wrist so tightly I could feel the ridge of his callous pressing into my bone. He wasn't the man of God anymore. He was just a man, sweating and shaking, his eyes dark with a decade of repressed hunger.

“Relax, Ciara. Just obey me and be free. You’re going to like it. I promise.” My heart hammered so hard I could feel it in my clit. Blackmail. Guilt. Arousal. They twisted together until I couldn’t tell which was which. “Teach me,” he said softly. “Show me everything you’ve been doing with him.” So I did. I knelt on the cold stone floor exactly like I had for Father Chris. My hands shook as I opened the repentance book to the next chapter. My voice trembled as I started reading: “I renounce the sin of lust… I reject every impure touch that pulls me from grace…”