Hellfire (Stonewood Saga Book 2)

by Ally Vance

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2019 Ally Vance

  Copyright © 2020 Ally Vance

  Editor: Sheena Taylor

  Cover: Pretty in Ink Creations

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems without written permission from the author, except for the brief use of quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is completely coincidental.

  STONEWOOD SAGA

  Perfect Denial (Book #1)

  Hellfire (Book #2)

  Title Coming Soon (Book #3)

  PLAYLIST

  Jonathan Young - Hellfire (METAL Cover)

  Jonathan Young & Caleb Hyles - Bells of Notre Dame (METAL Cover)

  Breaking Benjamin - Blow Me Away

  Skillet - My Obsession

  Disturbed - Want

  Disturbed - The Curse

  Disturbed - The Vengeful One

  Limp Bizkit - Eat You Alive

  Bullet For My Valentine - Waking The Demon

  Fall Out Boy - My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Light Em Up)

  CHAPTER ONE

  Esme

  It’s strange being the new person in town, and as usual, whispers follow me. I’ll never escape the stigma of being different. I can already tell moving here was a mistake. Judging eyes track my movements, lips purse, and fingers twitch. I know what they’re thinking, and they couldn’t be further from the truth. You’d think in this day and age people would’ve got over such superficial nonsense, but I know first-hand that’ll never be the case.

  I was lucky if I was able to walk down the street without being catcalled or harassed by the locals in Ironwood, the last place I lived. I was ostracised by the men and women for being who I am, for not fitting in. I didn’t conform to their ways, or their perception of what was socially acceptable as far as appropriate appearance was concerned.

  There’s no way to avoid being judged, because of my look: the tattoos that adorn my arms like a tapestry of my life, and my unusual style of dress. I stand out like a sore thumb in a place like this. As for why I moved here…well, let’s just say I needed a fresh start and an unassuming town like Stonewood is the perfect place to find sanctuary. I may not blend in with the locals, but that doesn’t matter; I never have before, and I never will.

  I spend the first few days exploring, keeping to myself as much as possible. It’s a quiet Sunday afternoon when I first discover their church, close to the outskirts, at the opposite end of town to my house. The morning service has long since finished. I already know without a doubt I won’t be welcomed here, but before I can stop myself, I venture closer to take a look. Curiosity brings me to the entrance steps of the beautiful stone building, and I can sense the power and tranquillity of the place in front of me. It’s been too long since I felt any kind of peace, and a deep longing draws me to the hand carved wooden doors that bar me from entering.

  “Can I help you?” a deep, smooth voice questions from behind me, making me jump in surprise.

  Spinning on the spot, I see a tall man with neatly combed, dark hair, and a light scruff coating his jaw and top lip. I take in his pressed black suit, and the white clerical collar peeking out from the top of his shirt.

  “Oh, n-no, thank you. I was just having a look around. I-I’m new here,” I stutter nervously, wringing my hands together.

  He’s the first person in this town who’s approached me, let alone spoken to me, and I try not to squirm under his scrutiny. His gaze slowly rakes over my appearance before coming to a stop on my face where his eyes bore deeply into mine. I suppress a shiver. Something about this man disturbs me.

  “What’s your name, child?” he asks, and I suppress a snort because he can’t be much older than I am, and he’s not looking at me as if I’m a child.

  He’s young…in his late twenties or early thirties would be my guess.

  “I’m twenty-seven, hardly a child,” I laugh. “My name’s Esme.”

  “Esme,” he repeats.

  When he says my name, my cheeks heat. Surely I’m imagining the seductive undertone to his voice. I inwardly curse myself. He’s a complete stranger, a man of the cloth, and I’m a fool for letting him affect me. Mentally shaking myself, I force a smile onto my lips.

  “What’s your name?” I blurt out, desperately trying to shift his attention away from me.

  His eyes burn into mine, and his mouth lifts in a wide smile. “Pastor Frollo. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Esme.”

  I suck in a sharp breath. His smile robs me of precious air; it damn near knocks me off my feet.

  “Nice to meet you too, Pastor Frollo. I'd best be leaving now,” I say hurriedly, taking a step backwards.

  “You’re welcome to come inside, if you’d like?” he offers, but I shake my head.

  “Maybe some other time,” I reply with a smile while telling my heart to stop racing.

  “See you soon, Esme.” His words are loaded with promise, and I fight back a frown because they also sound more like a threat than a farewell.

  I don’t respond, but I incline my head, turn on my heel, and depart, leaving him standing alone in front of the church. I came here to escape, not to catch the attention of the locals and become a member of their community.

  I’m off-kilter after the encounter with Pastor Frollo, and I’m not sure why. His words and manner were polite and charming, so why did it feel like he was also a danger? I shake my head and slowly make my way back down the path towards the main road. I feel his eyes on me even after I've turned the corner and disappeared from view, but I don’t turn around to check.

  The walk back to my house is spent berating myself about the foolishness of my curiosity.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Frollo

  I watch as Esme disappears from view and close my eyes while I pray for strength. The last thing I expected, on a quiet Sunday afternoon after church service, was to be thrust into the path of temptation. A test, I’m sure, but I never would’ve predicted it to come in such a beautiful form.

  I curse my body for reacting to the young woman, but I’m not dead, and I’m not immune to sinful cravings. It’s how I choose to respond to them that matters the most, and I must act with the decorum required of me. Tonight I’ll purge myself of these unholy thoughts and repent.

  Turning, I make my way back to the house I call home, which is set a little distance behind the church and out of view of the road, and let myself in. A familiar pair of black boots are sitting just inside the door when I walk in, and I smile; Quinlan is here. It’s been several months since my nephew came to visit me, and I've missed having him around.

  “Quinlan!” I call out.

  “Uncle Frollo!” he responds as he steps out of the kitchen, clutching a steaming hot mug of coffee. The strong aroma reaches my nose, and I inhale deeply.

  “There’d better be one of those waiting for me, or you’ll be in trouble,” I tease.

  Quinlan grins. “Of course, there’s more in the machine for you. I thought you’d probably be home soon, so I made plenty. How was the service this morning?”

  I sigh. “It could’ve been better. Kellen’s brat is determined to cause a stir amongst the members of the congregation. But I’m not willing to turn her away when she's proven to be unshakeable in her faith, regardless of her unfortunate situation.”

  “Sounds like a story there, do tell?” he enquires, following me into the kitchen and taking a seat
at the table.

  “Not much to tell, really. Let's see…Kellen had an accident and is now bound to a wheelchair, poor man. Lillian’s pregnant, and there’s no doubting who the father is. Lillian and Landon have been inseparable since they were very young. It was Landon who corrupted the poor child, but since he went to prison for breaking into Kellen's house to see her, she's been a good girl. She's been taking care of herself and making sure her father is well looked after.”

  “Not much to tell then?” Quinlan chuckles, lifting the mug to his lips and taking a sip.

  “No. Not much,” I laugh as I pour myself a mug of coffee and join him at the table. “I suppose it has been a rather interesting few months.”

  “Lillian and Landon have been close for as long as I can remember, so it’s not an unexpected development. But I'm surprised at Landon going to the extreme of breaking into the house to see her,” he says, and I shrug in agreement.

  “How long are you staying for this time?” I ask him.

  He avoids eye contact, choosing to stare into the dark liquid in his mug instead.

  “Indefinitely…if you’ll have me. I can guess what you’re thinking, but please don’t ask. You know as well as I do how Mum and Dad can be. I’m suffocating there. They think I’m wasting my life because I chose not to go to university. At least with you, I don’t have that pressure.”

  We spend the next few hours catching up. There’s not much of an age gap between us. With my half-brother being nearly twelve years older than me, I’m closer in age to my eldest nephew than my sibling. At twenty, Quinlan’s only nine years my junior.

  It’s late when we finally say our goodnights, and he makes his way to the guest room he always uses when he stays here. I head straight for my room where I proceed to remove my collar and place it on the nightstand. I take off the rest of my clothes until I’m wearing nothing but a pair of plain, black boxers. I need a shower to wash off the remnants of the day and cleanse the thoughts beginning to plague my mind again now I've a moment to myself.

  I pad softly down the hallway to the bathroom. Shedding my underwear, I switch the shower on, and when it’s at temperature, I step under the hot spray, letting it run over my body. I close my eyes and surrender to the sin coursing through my blood like fire. Palming my thickening cock, I picture the young woman I met earlier outside church…Esme.

  I slowly move my hand up and down the shaft, gripping firmly. I start jerking off to vivid images of her on her knees in front of me with her tits bare and water pouring over her colourful inked skin and darkening her hair until it’s nearly black. I indulge in these lecherous thoughts that will surely send me to hell.

  I lose myself to the vision of her pretty pink lips, wondering how they’d look wrapped around my cock while her tongue lavished the head with attention. Rubbing my thumb over the tip, I let out a low growl. The impending orgasm grows closer, and I use my free hand to support myself, pressing the palm flat against the wet tiles of the shower.

  My other hand moves faster, jerkier. I imagine fantasy Esme with her mouth and throat full of my cock, choking around the length. The power of the vision created by pure lust is almost enough to convince me she's really here, and when my eyes finally meet the gorgeous green ones conjured by my imagination, I come, and I come hard. My eyes fly open, and I shudder as the ripples of pleasure shoot through my dick while I continue to picture her swallowing every inch of me and every drop of my cum. The evidence of my shameful thoughts spurts against the tiles before being washed away by the water, erasing the proof of my sin and cleansing me.

  God, help me.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Esme

  The Sunday following my first visit, I return to the church to satisfy some strange curiosity about the people of this town and in particular the man who’s in charge of their spiritual direction. I don’t get a chance to speak with him this time, but our eyes meet briefly before I bow my head as he leads his congregation in prayer.

  I don’t believe in their God. I do believe there’s something out there, but I've no wish to define or name that entity. I prefer to embrace life in my own way, and it’s safe to say I’m unlikely to attend another service here. Yet, I can’t deny the calm I feel while watching Pastor Frollo delivering his sermon up there in the pulpit. I admire his unwavering conviction in his religion.

  At the end of the service, I take my leave without speaking a word to anyone. I feel their eyes on my back, watching me as I exit through the heavy doors of the church. The whispers follow me, but I do my best to ignore them.

  “That girl is a freak.”

  “Why would someone like her come here?”

  “Mummy, Mummy, is she a witch?”

  “No, dear, but strangers like her don't belong here.”

  It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. I don’t see why I shouldn’t be curious, just because I don’t believe in or practice their religion. It’s always the same story, though. I could move on from this place and find somewhere else to live, but it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference.

  The rest of the day their words play on my mind in a loop, ‘strangers like her don't belong here’. Each time I hear the scathing remark rolling through my brain, I feel like screaming. Will I ever be accepted here? Will I ever find acceptance anywhere? I want to meet someone who sees the real me, rather than instantly judging and regarding me with disdain based on my outward appearance. Tomorrow I have to go into town to buy some essentials, and the thought of seeing the expressions on the locals’ faces fills me with reluctance.

  The weather has been poor all afternoon, so I’ve kept myself busy indoors, unpacking my belongings and making this small house my home rather than just a space to stay. By early evening, I’ve finally finished, and I’m ready to crawl into bed and call it a day. My tired mind and body win the fight, and I surrender to their whim.

  Something wakes me with a jolt. A nightmare, already fading, teases the edge of my subconscious, but the details elude me. It’s still dark out. I roll over to check the clock, and the dull, red numbers glaring back at me read 2:30AM. I let out a heavy groan and cover my eyes with my arm before stretching out my body. I’m not able to sleep, and I can’t stand lying awake in bed for hours; I’d much rather be doing something. A night-time walk will clear my mind and hopefully wash away the last vestiges of the nightmare.

  I sit up and swing my legs out of bed, shivering when my bare feet connect with the cold, wood flooring fitted throughout the house. My tired eyes slowly begin to adjust to the darkness until I can make out the faint shapes of my furniture. I get dressed, and going downstairs, I put on my shoes and a light jacket before pocketing my house keys and heading out the front door.

  The cold air is brisk. A gentle breeze lifts my long hair, blowing loose strands across my face. I relish the quiet darkness, and the absence of people staring. It’s gratifying to be able to garner some peace from the early hour. Fuck them, I don’t need their approval. It’s better here than back in Ironwood where the insults being hurled my way were vicious, spiteful, and untrue. When I was falsely accused of attempting to seduce the husband of a couple whose marriage was failing, the extreme threats and verbally abusive behaviour began, and I knew I had to leave.

  The only sounds are the wind whispering through the trees and my footsteps on the hard concrete pavement beneath my feet. I lose myself in my thoughts and memories, listening to the gentle tap-tap of the soles of my shoes. Heavier footfalls behind me reach my ears, and snapping out of my musings, I tense. I throw a glance over my shoulder but can’t see anyone, so I continue walking with all my senses now on high alert, straining to hear anything more.

  My heart is pounding, and my blood races through my veins as adrenaline starts to flow. It’s late. Who could be wandering about at such an insane hour, apart from me? I don’t stop, and I don’t turn around. I keep walking, increasing my pace to put a greater distance between myself and the unknown person behind me. I slide my hands into my pockets
and carefully fiddle with my keys, placing them between my fingers as a makeshift weapon with the key-ring in my palm.

  My breathing becomes harsher and shallower, nerves stealing its depth. Terror keeps my eyes forward, rendering me unable to turn. My shoes hit the ground harder and faster now, and I can hear the footsteps behind me are getting closer. In my haste, I pay little attention to where I’m going. All I want is to get away.

  I finally chance another look over my shoulder and instantly regret it when I see the hooded figure of a man following me. Letting out a little scream, I take off, flying down the path like the devil himself is chasing me…for all I know he could be. I’m clenching my keys so tightly in my fist my fingers are aching; their presence makes me feel braver, but I won’t use them unless I have to.

  I dart down an alleyway between two buildings and melt into the shadows. Pressing myself up against the wall, I hold my breath while I wait for the stranger to pass by. The closest streetlight is broken, so I can’t be easily seen. I've no idea if he saw me run down here or not. I turn my head, looking to see if there's a way out at the opposite end of the alley from where I came in, but my heart sinks when I see the high wall blocking my path. Fuck.

  Crouching down low, I shrink as far into the darkness as I can. My heart is in my throat, and it constricts with fear when I see the silhouette of the stranger at the entry to the alley. The man doesn’t even spare a glance down this passage-to-nowhere, though. He continues on past, and I release the breath I was holding with a sigh of relief.

  I stand up, and slowly inching back towards the street. I peer around the corner. A hand lunges out and wraps itself around my throat, strangling my terrified scream. I lift my hand, intending to attack with the keys.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” a male voice hisses in my ear as he slams my wrist against the wall, forcing me to loosen my grip.