I stood outside the door to my room, my place where I watched her live out her desires with Noah Blackthorne. But nothing happened. The door didn’t open for me.
“What?” I shoved at the heavy steel, but it wouldn’t budge.
Confused, I wandered a bit farther down the hall, intent on finding the succubus and demanding she stop playing her games. Before I took more than a few steps, a door swung inward, and Sunday’s scent overwhelmed me, beckoning me inside.
She faced me, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, lips begging to be kissed.
“Caleb.” She whispered my name like a prayer, and it sent righteous hunger through me.
I swallowed as I crossed the threshold, unable to speak as I took in her surroundings. I knew this place. My gaze traveled the space, stone walls I’d laid one by one, painstakingly, with reverence. The rocking chair my mother used to sing me to sleep in, given to me in hopes my wife would do the same with our children, Mam’s old patchwork quilt resting on the back. And beside it, the table and chairs my father had carved by hand as a wedding present for his bride.
I had built this home from the ground up with my bare hands and filled it with my most cherished belongings when I believed the path before me included a wife and children. Before God had shown me another way. It was simple, modest, and had been mine.
Sunday stood in the center of the room, fulfilling every bit of my fantasy future. It was painful and beautiful all at once. A gift I never thought I’d receive.
A fire already danced in the hearth. Sunlight spilled through the wide windows, gauzy curtains fluttering as the scent of my homeland drifted in on the ocean’s breeze.
“Éire,” I murmured in awe. I was home.
Sunday whimpered, the sound of her pain triggering my instinctive need to protect. I shot forward, catching her as her knees buckled.
She stared up at me from the cradle of my arms, pain in her eyes, but something else there that I dared not name. “Your eyes look different in the daylight,” she said, wonder in her voice.
I jerked, my gaze shifted to the window and the beam of light shining down upon us like a holy spotlight.
This is how you die. With everything you’ve ever wanted within reach and the woman you love in your arms, only for them both to be ripped away. A taste of heaven before the reality of hell. What a fitting end for a habitual sinner.
I braced for the pain I knew would come... but it didn’t. Instead of fire’s angry burn, I felt only a long-forgotten warmth.
Laughter bubbled in my chest. I steadied Sunday on her feet and then grasped her head, cradling it between my hands as though she were a cherished gift. Then I kissed her, pouring every ounce of my joy into the moment.
If I could stay here forever, I would. I’d live out the rest of my days as a human man, with Sunday at my side, in a cottage by the sea.
“Caleb, please,” Sunday said, her voice a raw whisper.
I bent down, scooping her up like she was my bride as I carried her into the adjoining room I’d built to contain my marriage bed. The room was as I’d last seen it, a four-poster bed covered in a plain white coverlet the star of the space, then a desk in the corner with a hard wooden chair. Simple pleasures all waiting for the love of a good woman to make this house a home.
I knew Sunday was that woman. The one I’d always hoped for.
I couldn’t love her.
But I did.
“Lie back,a stor. I’ll care for you.”
I set her down gently, feeling only a moment’s nerves as I stared down at her. In this moment, she was my wife, given to me by God Himself. We were coming together the way we were meant to. This was how my life should’ve been.
I slowly stripped her clothes off, baring her to me, every lush curve ready to be savored by my mouth and hands. She was mine.
The way she writhed for me, her legs sliding together, the slick arousal glistening on her inner thighs, had me throbbing in my pants. I needed her just as much as she did me.
“Please, God.”
That one word stopped me, bringing my vows crashing back to the forefront of my mind. I’d given God my solemn word. Promised that I would remain celibate for all my days so I could serve Him. I’d come this far and nearly crossed the line so many times, but I’d never broken my vow. Up until now, I’d remained chaste.
But I hadn’t. Not really. I’d been lying to myself and allowing the falsehoods to dictate how far I’d step with Sunday. I’d found release time and time again with her name on my lips, her lips on my cock, her scent my only saving grace. Somewhere along the way, Sunday Fallon had become my religion. The only one I’d sworn my eternal devotion to.
All that remained was my virginity. I was teetering on the edge, but I would not cross it. I’d already lost so much, I couldn’t lose that final part of myself. It was all I had left that was pure. I needed it to believe I was still worthy of redemption.