The Witch and The Priest

Chapter 7

"You seem tense, dear," Sister Agnes observed as I aggressively folded linens in the supply closet. "Are you nervous about taking your vows soon?"

The constant presence of Brother Dominic. The man had apparently appointed himself my personal watchdog, appearing at the most inconvenient moments with that suspicious gleam in his pale eyes.

All while Mikael won’t look me in the eye the way he used to before.

It was exhausting. And infuriating.

I'm tense because I'm surrounded by witch hunters, hunted by my older sisters, being stalked by a zealot, and failing spectacularly at seducing the one man who could protect me.

But sure, let's call it pre-vow jitters.

"Just eager to begin my real service," I replied, forcing my voice into something appropriately humble.

"That's beautiful, child. Your devotion is truly inspiring."

If only you knew what I was actually devoted to. Or to who. Yeah, nevermind.

I was helping Sister Agnes prepare for a supply run to the local market when Mikael appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"Sister Agnes," he said, his voice carefully professional. "I need to pick up some books from the theological college across town. Would it be possible for Wren to accompany me? It would be good for her to see more of the academic side of religious life."

Sister Agnes beamed with approval. "Of course, Father Mikael. What a wonderful opportunity for her."

Twenty minutes later, I found myself sliding into the passenger seat of Mikael's modest sedan, hyperaware of the confined space and his proximity.

In the small interior, his frame seemed even larger—broad shoulders taking up more than his fair share of space, the quiet strength in his build making me acutely aware of how much smaller than him I was.

How much closer we were.

I tried not to stare at his hands on the steering wheel, or the way his black shirt pulled across his chest when he reached for his seatbelt. His dark hair was trimmed so precisely at the nape of his neck that I had the completely inappropriate urge to touch it, to see if it was as soft as it looked.

Even that damned white collar at his throat—the universal symbol for off-limits, do not touch, sworn to celibacy—only made it worse.

"Thank you for coming," he said as he started the engine. "I know things have been... awkward between us lately."

"It's alright, I understand."

He glanced at me, something unreadable flickering in his expression. "Do you?"

Because Dominic has been filling your head with warnings about the dangerous woman who's trying to corrupt you.

"You have responsibilities, obligations," I said simply. "And I never should have made things complicated for you."

"You didn't make anything complicated," Mikael said quietly. "The complication was already there."

I turned to study his profile, noting the tight line of his jaw, the white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." He was quiet for so long I thought he wouldn't answer. "I mean that from the moment you walked into my life, everything became more difficult."

Well, progress is it.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, letting vulnerability creep into my voice.

He shook his head, as if trying to clear it, and we went silent for the rest of the ride.

As we pulled into the parking lot of the theological college, I realized that I'd gotten exactly what I wanted—proof that his desire for me was stronger than his resolve.

When we walked through the street, I couldn't appreciate the scenery.

My eyes constantly scanned the crowds, my body tense with the expectation of seeing a familiar face. Every dark-haired woman made my heart race. Every glimpse of movement in my peripheral vision had me calculating escape routes.

"You seem on edge," Mikael observed gently as we browsed the theology section. "Is being in the city difficult for you?"

"Old habits," I said, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. "When you've spent months looking over your shoulder, it's hard to stop. Every face in a crowd could be the wrong one, you know?"

I let my vulnerability show just enough to make him want to protect me, then deliberately brightened.

"But I feel safe with you. Safer than I've felt anywhere."

The way his chest expanded slightly at my words told me the compliment had hit its mark. Good. Building his protective instincts was crucial for what came next.

I actually took much less time than expected to select several books on medieval theology and early church history before getting in the car, heading back to the cathedral.

"Can I ask you something personal?" I said, timing the question perfectly as he settled in the driver seat. "I hope it's not inappropriate, but I've been wondering about something."

Mikael shifted uncomfortably starting the engine, already wary. "What is it?"

"Do you ever wonder what you gave up when you took your vows?" I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice. "I mean… You're young, attractive, intelligent. You could have had any life you wanted. A wife, children, a family of your own. Didn't you ever want those things?"

"My calling came early," he said carefully, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel. "I've never really thought about alternative paths."

But I caught the slight hesitation, the way his eyes flickered to mine before returning to the road. There was something there—doubt, maybe, or regret.

I pressed my advantage with a cat-like smile. "Never? Not even before you entered the seminary? No girlfriend in high school who broke your heart when you chose God over her?"

The flush that crept up his neck told me everything I needed to know. "There was never... I mean, I was focused on my studies fully. My path was clear from an early age."

"So you've never...?" I let the question hang in the air, watching as understanding dawned in his expression. His silence was answer enough.

A virgin priest.

How perfectly, beautifully convenient.

"That's actually incredible," I continued, my voice carrying admiration. "In a world where everyone gives themselves away so carelessly, you've preserved something sacred, something pure."

I could see him struggling between embarrassment and pride, unsure how to respond to such directness. "I... yes. It's part of my commitment to serve God completely."

I reached across the gearbox, letting my fingers brush his in a gesture that could be interpreted as comfort. "I just can't imagine being so strong. So disciplined."

The word 'disciplined' seemed to affect him even more than 'pure' had.

I could practically see the effect I was having—his breathing had quickened, and he was staring for a few seconds at my hand on his with an intensity that had nothing to do with spiritual contemplation.

I traced my thumb across his knuckles in a gesture that was definitely not comforting.

"Though I suppose it's easier to sacrifice something you've never experienced. You don't know what you're missing."

The look he gave me was sharp, almost alarmed, as if he'd just realized how dangerous this conversation had become.

"Wren..." His voice carried a warning, but it was weak, uncertain.

"I'm just saying I admire your strength," I said innocently. "Not many men could resist temptation the way you do."

He said nothing as he returned his gaze back to the road again, but didn’t pull away his hand under mine.

For the rest of the ride to the cathedral, I continued my careful assault on his defenses. I sat closer than necessary, letting our arms brush. I laughed at his nervous attempts at humor, each sound warm and appreciative.

When we stopped at the parking lot, I placed my hand on his arm to get his attention, letting the touch linger far longer than necessary.

"Thank you for today," I said, stopping him from stepping out of the car "For making me feel safe. For talking to me like I'm… worth knowing. Worth caring about."

"You are worth knowing, Wren." His voice was rougher than it should be, strained with something he couldn't acknowledge. "More than worth it."

The intensity in his eyes when he said it sent a genuine shiver through me—one I quickly suppressed.

This was about survival, about gaining his protection. The fact that my body responded to his obvious desire was simply a biological reaction I could use to my advantage.

"I know we can't," I whispered, moving close enough that my breath warmed his skin. "I know you belong to God. But sometimes I wonder... what it would be like to belong to someone like you."

His eyes dropped to my lips, and I could see the exact moment his resolve began to crack. "I can't," he said, but he was leaning closer too, drawn by the same magnetic pull. "My vows, my calling..."

For a heartbeat, I thought he was going to close the distance. I could feel his breath against my skin, could see the war being fought behind his eyes.

Then Mikael jerked back as if burned, his face flushing with guilt and desire in equal measure. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, throwing the car into gear. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"Don't apologize," I said, settling back in my seat with my heart still racing from the adrenaline. "Please don't apologize for feeling something real."

I could see duty battling desire in his expression, faith wrestling with very human need.

"We should go inside," he said, his voice strained.

As we entered the cathedral, I allowed myself a small, satisfied smile. I'd planted the seeds expertly. Now all I had to do was wait for them to take root, slowly driving him mad with wanting something he could never allow himself to have.

The growing attraction I felt was simply another tool in my arsenal of survival.

Nothing more.