The Fallen (Annual Game Night: Sector Five Alphas #3)

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Sister Emily Agnes

F or a moment, I lie deathly still, listening as the Sisters go about their work. They sing softly under their breaths, and for a moment, I long to join them. Camaraderie, a shared purpose, a desire to serve God. Yet, all I can think about is the agony coursing through my veins.

Warning bells ring out in my mind as I bring my fingers between my thighs once more. This is wrong. It has to be. And yet, I have no memory of the Nuns I lived with lecturing me about such actions. I’ve never heard anyone ask for prayers because they rubbed out an ailment.

No one here has even spoken of such. They certainly have not warned me or given me any preemptive admonition. With everything else they’ve told me, you’d think something like this would come up.

The main thing giving me pause is the sense of euphoria slithering over my body, twisting and contorting it until I’m breathless on the bed. More of that strange fluid seeps out from my private area, nearly soaking my hand and the bed. I run my fingers through it, scooping it up and using it as an oil to rub myself with far more precision.

Strangled moans catch at the back of my throat as I slam my hand over my mouth and continue to caress my slick flesh. Pleasure floods my system, overloading my synapses as I bow up, my inner thighs quaking as I strain toward some unknown precipice.

The sensations continue to build, twisting my insides as I continue to rub the ailing part of my body. Who knew I was carrying so much tension in such a small spot? Yet, with each stroke, the stress of today simply melts until all that consumes me is the need to press forward.

There is no Father Confessor. There is no unholy yearning or longing. In this moment, there is no God. Only man and the need to forget the world for a few precious moments.

My head aches as I scrunch my eyes closed even tighter. Colors spark behind my eyelids as lurid gasps flit past my lips. Deep inside, my inner walls clench and release, as if needing something more, desiring something else. The ache travels from my apex a bit lower.

Whimpering, I lower my other hand, biting down on my bottom lip to keep from crying out and worrying the other Sisters. I slip the very edge of my fingertip into my opening, groaning as the outer wall tightens around me, fluttering over the slim digit like the kiss of a butterfly’s wings.

Should I continue? Should I see what happens if I caress even deeper? Besides, if God made our bodies, He made every part, even the ones that feel so good. In other, far stricter orders, the Nuns and Sisters are not allowed to partake in things that feel or taste good, but here, it’s different.

So many new things. Ice cream tastes like heaven. Waffles, pancakes, baked goods of all sorts are now permissible. Surely this is permissible as well, seeing as it’s assisting my body and making me grow far less restless and ill at ease.

Since touching myself, massaging these fractious nerves, I am finally relaxing for the first time since arriving. Or, I guess more aptly, since the first time I saw Father Draven. The fitful energy forcing me to pace at all hours of the night dissolves as I ease my finger in even further.

Unfortunately, all that does is make the twisting even more intense. The instant the handsome Father Confessor enters my mind, he’s all I can think about. Behind my closed eyelids, I watch him as he walks about, flashing that devastating smile that never fails to make my heart skip a beat.

The other Sisters seem to be immune. But then, they have been with him a lot longer than I have. I don’t have the armor in place yet to keep my mind from straying to him.

What is he doing right now? Is he bathing? Preparing to minister to the sick? Lying in bed and touching himself in a similar manner? Though, what he’d be touching, I’m not sure. I was never privy to that information.

From what little bit I’ve gathered, it must be different from me. Everything else is. He’s so large, broad, massive, so big I run out of words to describe it. In comparison, I’m so tiny and frail, fragile even, able to be snapped in half by his long fingers and wide palms.

My inner walls clench again, dragging my finger in a bit further. It’s not enough. I crave something more, something different. It’s bewildering to know you want something but have no idea what it is. Perhaps the Sisters will know. Perhaps they can guide me.

Desperation claws at my insides, raking through me with white-hot, razor-sharp talons, threatening to rend me from tip to stern. Guttural moans flit from my lips as I massage myself, bringing myself to a point of no return. Everything freezes as my stomach flips, dropping inside me.

Locked in this position, I fear I cannot move. On instinct, I slide my finger out from the warm haven of my body and grab a nearby pillow to staunch the cry of relief as it shatters through my body, opening me up and turning me inside out. I cannot control the long, low moan as it ripples through me, rushing through my veins like a babbling brook filled with healing waters to cool and soothe my ravaged mind.

I continue to stroke myself, riding out these sensations until pleasure turns to discomfort. Pulling my hand away, I lie there and look at the ceiling, forcing my breath to slow. My mind whirls about a mile-a-minute, refusing to settle on any one thing.

For once, I lie there, depleted, satiated, and at peace. A quiet hum of satisfaction buzzes through me, causing my limbs to feel heavy as they flop by my side. Closing my eyes again, I allow a soft smile to ease up my lips and a bubble of laughter erupts from my throat.

Manic. Hysteric. Filled with joy and wonder. The sound is unfettered and free as it bounces around my room.

A loud knock soon brings me to my senses as I right my clothing and pad my way over to the door. As I crack it open, I note the Abbess standing there, her warm eyes drawn in with concern.

“Mother Superior had to leave on an urgent errand and asked for me to look in on you. I heard the strangest noise just now. Almost like laughter?”

With a huge grin, I throw the door open and dance away. “Yes, laughter. I am feeling far better.”

“That’s good. You sound-” As she slips in through the doorway, she stops and looks about. Her eyes widen as her breath quickens. With trembling fingers, she crosses herself and looks at me. “What have you done?”

I sit down on the edge of my bed and smile as languid tranquility washes over me like waves lapping at a beach. “I merely found the cause of my ailments and I am finally at peace. The Lord showed me-”

“He did nothing of the kind,” she screeches, storming over to me and grabbing my wrist.

With a quick jerk, she hauls me to my feet and drags me toward the door. I do my best to resist, but she’s somehow far stronger than I am, though she is an omega herself.

Pursing my lips into a frown, I claw at her fingers, doing my best to wrench myself free. “Where are you taking me?”

“The apothecary,” she spits out, but doesn’t elaborate.

Stunned, I follow her, unsure of what’s going on. Perhaps I was wrong about everything. This must have indeed been a sin for her to treat me with such contempt. Unfortunately, she remains silent, neither confirming nor denying my thoughts.

When we get to the small room off the corner stairs, she shoves me in and forces me to a chair. “You will do what the Sister says, and when you are done, you must go to Father Draven for confession. He is the only one who can give you absolution now. You are out of my hands.”

As she whirls around and slams the door, all the euphoria I felt earlier dissipates, drawn up and away from my body as if floating to the heavens. Alone. So very alone.

Curling into myself, I wait until a doddering older woman eases her way inside. Based on the grim set of her lips, I’m sure she knows exactly what I’ve done. Hanging my head in shame, I stay silent as she looks over her bottles and potions.

“Tell me, child. What education has your convent instilled upon you in the ways of omegas and their bodies?”

“N- nothing, Sister. I was merely taught to keep myself clean and humble before God. But little else.”

“I see. And were you given any pills to take when you reached maturity? You are old enough to be in puberty, are you not?”

“I am nineteen. So please tell me, for I am unsure.”

With a soft nod of her head, she goes back to her bottles. “And has your heat come upon you yet?”

“A heat? I- Well, I was warm earlier.”

“That is not what I mean, child,” she chuckles, pulling away to sniff at me. “You do not smell as if you’re nearing it, so we may have caught you at just the right time. In your convent, a heat might be rare, seeing as you are not in the presence of an Alpha. But they still should have provided a suppressant for your safety and the safety of others. It was imprudent to send you away from your cloister so ill-prepared.”

“Forgive me, Sister. But I do not understand what you mean by all of it.”

She pats my arm with her wizened, weathered fingers. “And just as well. There is less temptation when you know nothing of the pleasures of the flesh.” Her nose wrinkles as she pulls away. “Well, I suppose it’s no longer nothing, seeing as you have very well admitted what you were doing behind your doors.”

“Is it really so very bad?”

“Any act of a sexual nature breaks your vow of celibacy. As far as how bad it is, that is up to the Father Confessor to decide. However, you will not see him until I watch you take this pill. Every day you must take it. We all do. The last thing we need is to drive away our priest by causing him to sin. Come now. This should also take away some of the baser urges you might have running through your body.”

The pill she hands me is small, far tinier than what I expect, given how she is waxing poetic. If this will take away my urges, then perhaps I’ll feel relief without the sin. Truly, it’s the only thing that makes sense as to why they are all so happy here without giving in to what is apparently a lust of the flesh.

My lips tremble as I take the glass of water and swallow the pill down. With the way the older Sister studies me, I open my mouth and stick out my tongue, showing her I have indeed done as she commanded.

“I trust you, child. I know you’re a good girl. Remember to take these daily without fail. Missing even one day will put you and the Father Confessor at risk.”

She never explains herself, never tells me what danger we are in. In many ways, it’s unfair. How am I to combat evil when I do not even know its face? On the other hand, I suppose it makes resisting temptation all the easier when you know nothing of the allure.

Sliding the bottle into my pocket, I make my way to the base of the stairs where the Abbess waits for me. “You will change into something more appropriate to meet the Father Confessor. He is not to see you so casually.”

“Should I wear my habit?”

“Your work clothes should suffice. Have you taken your pill?”

“Yes, Abbess.”

“And you know the instructions?”

“Yes, Abbess.”

“Then off with you. Be smart about it. The Father Confessor awaits.”

Despite already touching myself and experiencing the relief my actions brought, everything tightens up again, sending white-hot need coiling through my body. All I can do is hope and pray the pill takes quick effect. If not, I’m not sure if I can bear to face the Father Confessor alone.