The Sin Of Pride Novels & Stories

I said softly causing him to look over at me surprise on his features at my change in tone. "Real name is Kateus, also known as the sin of envy, due to jealous tendencies and grudges" I said taking a deep breath. "One of the main downfalls in humanity is the want for what others have making him one of the most dangerous sins because it doesn't matter who gets hurt in the process the only thing that is a priority is his own want to be better and higher then anything and everyone else around him" I said causing him to look almost ashamed.

Andrew scoffed. "So what if I offended her? I've said before that pride is Luna's greatest sin. One day, it'll come back to bite her." Chantelle shook her head. She agreed, "Pride is the deadliest sin, but before you start pointing fingers, maybe figure out who exactly is being prideful. Lucifer was prideful, sure, and so is Luna. But don't you think they earned that pride?" Andrew snickered. "Maybe they did, but just not in front of me."

Tammie asked. "Yes,"I said, reflecting on our high school days. "One of her favorite character flaws was hubris. The heroes who failed in Shakespeare, world mythology, and all other literature lost what was most important to them because of pride. Your hubris is that you are proud and independent and look at any gift or help as a threat to that. Accepting the clothes – either as a gift, as Michael's way of taking care of his family, or simply that Michael wants to make you happy – is the right thing to do."

“Elena…” Matteo smiled weakly. “You were always the brave one.” Tears burned down her cheeks. “Don’t ask me to do this.” His voice softened. “It’s not a request. It’s a release.” The alarms grew louder. The holographic lion above them began to flicker again, the golden eyes pulsing faster. Lucia shouted, “The system’s rebooting! You’ve got seconds before it reinitializes!” Matteo looked at her one last time. “Pride isn’t about never falling. It’s about rising after the fall. Make me proud, sorellina.”

I'd gone to his study to surprise him, only to find him bent over the design schematics for our rings. The original "Amor Aeternus" was crossed out. Replaced by that new line of Latin: Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. My sin, my greatest sin. Five years. The guilt had never left him. Her shadow still loomed over everything between us. "Isabella?" the priest prompted gently. I lifted my head and looked out at the crowd. My father, Don Rossi, his eyes filled with expectation. The Moretti council, sitting ramrod straight, waiting for the answer that would end a decades-long war between our two families.

“I’ve been thinking I’m special. That I own a piece of you. I need… correction.” He understood. The hunger had evolved. The initial frenzy of possession needed structure, a liturgy of its own. Pain was the sacrament she craved. “Stand up,” he ordered, his voice low and devoid of its priestly cadence. It was the voice of a master. She obeyed, her eyes downcast. He picked up the hairbrush, running his thumb over the smooth, cool back. “Pride is a mortal sin,” he intoned, circling her. “It must be beaten out. Count.”

The flat of the belt stung sharply, not hard enough to bruise but enough to make her jolt forward against the display case. Heat bloomed across her skin. Another slap, then another, across her ass cheeks, the backs of her thighs, the sensitive underside where ass met thigh. Each strike made her gasp and moan. Her pussy clenched hard around nothing every time the leather connected. “Look at you,” Grayson said, his voice velvet-smooth and cruel. “The woman who runs million-dollar auctions, standing here in the dark with her wrists cuffed, dripping like a desperate slut. Your professional pride is falling apart, isn’t it? All because your pussy is aching for a man you barely know.”

Had proven to the kingdom and to God that his loyalty to righteousness superseded his loyalty to blood. It had killed him. Every day since, it had killed him again and again, in small increments, until he wasn’t sure what was left inside his chest besides the specific machinery of survival. And now his brother’s son a boy Marcus had held as an infant, had taught to ride, had believed capable of greatness was committing the same sin. The same corruption. The same betrayal of everything Marcus had sacrificed to prevent. The candles flickered.

— So why didn't you? — Because everything… everything indicated she had betrayed me! — my voice came out louder than I wanted. I regretted it right away, from the effort. But I'd already said it. He snorted, in disbelief. — Your biggest sin has always been this damn pride of yours. This twisted sense of justice of yours. You think everyone has to be perfect, that only who you judge right is who's really right. You never forgive. You don't even try. — I… — I started, but he continued, running over me with his voice.

"Or what? You're going to beat me up again? Such a bitch!" I laughed bitterly. "Funny coming from a man who needed Daddy to hand him everything before he could feel important." "You know what? Fuck you, Damian!” I was sweating badly. All I needed was a drink. "Ethan!" my father thundered. I shoved my chair backwards. "Don't you dare call my name like you haven't spent your entire life reminding me that I'm the unwanted son!" I turned towards my father, boiling with rage. Nobody moved. My chest rose and fell heavily.