The Witch and The Priest

Chapter 6

During the time of my theological education for the past few weeks, I'd settled into a routine that served my original purposes just perfectly.

My lessons with Mikael had expanded far beyond basic doctrine, and I found myself with access to texts that offered tantalizing hints about the Order's true mission.

References to "purification" and "divine judgment" scattered throughout otherwise mundane theological treatises. Mentions of Saint Michael's sword being more than metaphorical.

I was also genuinely quick to learn—a natural intelligence I'd never been allowed to display in the coven, where asking too many questions earned you a backhand and demanding silence.

All while appearing to be nothing more than a helpful novice eager to serve.

But it was our work together that had truly brought Mikael and me closer.

The long evenings in his study, bent over ancient texts and correspondence, had created an intimacy that went far beyond spiritual direction. We'd developed an easy rhythm, a comfortable familiarity that made my chest warm in ways I hadn't expected.

Dangerous territory, Rowan. But useful.

Tonight was different, though. Tonight, I had a specific goal.

"So when I take my preliminary vows," I said, settling into the chair across from his desk with calculated casualness, "what exactly will my duties be? I want to make sure I'm prepared."

Mikael looked up from the stack of reports he'd been reviewing, his hair slightly disheveled from running his hands through it. The sight sent an unexpected flutter through my stomach.

Focus. This is about survival, not attraction.

"Well," he said, setting down his pen and giving me his full attention, "you'll assist Sister Agnes with the shelter operations, continue your theological studies, and help with various parish functions. You'll also accompany me on some of my... specialized assignments."

"The exorcism work?" I raised an eyebrow, letting skepticism color my tone. "I still find it hard to believe that's a real thing in the twenty-first century."

His lips quirked upward in that almost-smile that made my pulse quicken. "Your skepticism is noted, Sister-to-be. But you'll see for yourself soon enough."

"Will I really be helpful, though?" I leaned forward slightly, ostensibly earnest but very aware of how the movement made his gaze flicker briefly to my neckline. "I mean, what if I freeze up? What if I'm more hindrance than help?"

"You won't be." His voice was warm, confident. "You're braver than you know, Wren. And more intuitive than most people I've worked with."

There it is—that protective, admiring tone that makes him so easy to manipulate.

I stood and moved around his desk, ostensibly to look at one of the theological texts spread across its surface. But really, I wanted to be closer, wanted to see how he'd react to my proximity.

"This passage here," I said, leaning over his shoulder to point at a random line of Latin. "What does it mean exactly?"

I was close enough to catch his scent—soap and something uniquely masculine that made my skin feel too tight. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body, to see the way his breathing had quickened slightly.

"It's... it's discussing the nature of temptation," he said, his voice rougher than usual. "How even the most faithful can be tested."

"Temptation," I repeated thoughtfully, letting the word roll off my tongue as I straightened but didn't move away. "Do you ever feel tempted, Mikael?"

The use of his given name instead of his title was deliberate, intimate.

I saw the way his pupils dilated, how his hands gripped the edge of his desk. "Everyone faces temptation, Wren. It's part of being human."

"But you handle it so well," I said, turning to face him fully. We were close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, close enough that he'd have to crane his neck to look up at me. "You're so disciplined, so... controlled. I admire that about you."

A flush crept up his neck, and I felt a thrill of victory. This powerful, dangerous man—a witch hunter who could destroy me if he knew the truth—was blushing because of a few carefully chosen words.

God, I love making him react like this.

"I'm not as controlled as you think," he said quietly, and there was something raw in his voice that made my chest tighten.

"No?" I reached past him for another book, deliberately letting my breast brush against his shoulder. "You always seem so... steady. So sure of yourself and your faith."

His breath caught audibly at the contact. "Wren..."

"Yes?" I let my voice drop to barely above a whisper, leaning down so my lips were close to his ear. "What is it?"

For a moment, I thought I'd pushed too far. His whole body had gone rigid, and I could feel the tension radiating from him like heat. Then his hand came up to rest on my wrist, not pushing me away but not pulling me closer either.

"I know what you're doing," he said, his voice strained.

"Do you?" I let my fingers trail along the edge of his desk, close enough to his other hand that our skin almost touched.

The air between us crackled with tension. His eyes went dark, fixed on my face with an intensity that made my pulse race. I could see the war being fought behind those warm brown eyes—duty battling desire, faith wrestling with very human need.

Just a little more pressure, and he'll break.

"Wren, I—"

"And what exactly is happening here?"

Brother Dominic's voice cut through the charged atmosphere like a blade. We sprang apart, guilt written across both our faces despite the fact that we hadn't actually done anything improper.

He stood in the doorway, his pale eyes fixed on me with undisguised suspicion and distaste. He was massive, broad-shouldered, with the kind of heavy features that looked carved from stone. Everything about him screamed zealot.

"Brother Dominic," Mikael said, his voice carefully controlled as he stood. "Wren was just asking about her future duties after she takes her preliminary vows."

"Her duties." Dominic stepped into the room, his gaze never leaving my face. "And those duties require such... intimate consultation?"

I felt my cheeks flush, but I kept my expression innocent. "I was just looking at the texts Father Mikael was explaining. I wanted to understand—"

"Oh, I'm sure you want to understand many things," Dominic interrupted, his voice dripping with disdain. "Tell me, Wren, what exactly do you hope to gain from your... spiritual journey?"

The way he said my fake name made it sound like an accusation. My skin crawled under his scrutiny, but I forced myself to remain calm.

"I hope to serve God and help other people who've suffered as I have," I replied evenly. "The same as any woman called to religious life."

"Hmm." He moved closer, studying me like I was something distasteful he'd found on his shoe. "And you believe the best way to serve God is by... distracting His priests from their sacred duties?"

"Brother Dominic," Mikael's voice carried a warning. "That's enough."

Dominic turned to face him, and I saw genuine concern beneath his obvious dislike of me. "The path you're walking leads only to destruction—for both of you."

"I don't know what you think is happening…" I began, but he cut me off.

"I think you know exactly what's happening. And what the consequences will be if you continue down this path. Mikael has given his life to God. His vows aren't just promises—they're sacred oaths. Break them, and you destroy not just his career, but his very soul."

The words hit their mark, and I had to suppress a smile of satisfaction. Because Dominic, in his zealous concern for his friend, had just given me the perfect weapon.

With that, he turned and stalked out of the room, leaving Mikael and me alone with the weight of his accusations hanging between us. The silence stretched uncomfortably until he cleared his throat.

"I should... We should probably end tonight's session here," he said, not meeting my eyes. "It's getting late, and Sister Agnes will be wondering where you are."

"Of course," I replied, but I didn't move toward the door. Instead, I stepped closer, close enough to see the conflict warring in his expression. "Father Mikael, what he said…"

"He's right." The words came out harsh, final. "This... whatever this is has to stop. My vows have to come first."

I let my face fall, let disappointment and hurt cloud my features. "I understand. I never meant to make things difficult for you."

"I know you didn't." His voice gentled, and I saw the exact moment his resolve began to crack. "You're not doing anything wrong, Wren. It's me. I'm the one who's supposed to be stronger than this."

"You are strong," I whispered, reaching out to touch his arm lightly. "The strongest man I've ever known. If there's... if there's something between us, maybe it's not weakness. Maybe it's something more."

For a moment, I thought he might close the distance between us right there in his study. His eyes darkened, his breathing quickened, and I could practically feel the need radiating from him.

Then he stepped back, putting the desk between us like a barrier. "No. Dominic is right—this is dangerous. For both of us."

I nodded, letting tears gather in my eyes. "I'm sorry. I never meant to be a burden to you."

"You're not a burden. You're... " he said quickly. "God help me, you're the most incredible woman I've ever met. But that's exactly why this has to stop."

As he left me alone in his study, Dominic's words echoed in my mind. The threat of Mikael's destruction, the consequences of broken vows, the power I now held over his future… Could be the way.

After all, what's love without a little blackmail?