by Pam Godwin
“Um, yeah…” She made a face and continued walking. “Don’t sign me up for that.”
“Every student, Miss Constantine. As long as you’re a member of this school, you will follow the Catechism of the Catholic Church.”
“This just keeps getting better and better.”
“Ninety percent of this is how you react to it. Change your attitude.”
“And the other ten percent?”
“It’s happening whether you like it or not. That’s life.”
We entered the residence hall just as the door to the first room opened. Miriam stepped out and gave me a smile weathered with age.
“Good evening, Father Magnus.” She tucked a silver lock of hair behind her ear and took in my petulant charge. “You must be Tinsley.”
“Sure.” She shrugged.
“Tinsley.” I narrowed my eyes. “This is Miriam, the language arts teacher.”
“I’m also the dorm mother,” Miriam said.
“So basically, you’re here to make sure we don’t sneak out.” Tinsley arched a brow.
“No, I delegate that job. There’s a senior student assigned to each floor, tasked with supervising the residents and maintaining the safety and security of the dorm. We call them big sisters.”
“Mm. Sounds like a coveted job,” Tinsley said dryly, “for tattletales.”
Miriam inclined her head, giving no other reaction. She’d been doing this for a long time and experienced every manner of rebellion and rule breaking. Tinsley couldn’t faze the woman if she tried.
“I’m here to ensure the cleanliness of the dorms, administer medication, address individual needs, offer counseling, and otherwise support the activities of all the girls.” She tapped the door at her back. “My apartment is here. If you need anything at all, you know where to find me.”
“What I need is to go home.” Tinsley looked her dead in the eyes. “I don’t want to be here.”
“Give it a few weeks. You’ll change your mind.”
“Um, nooo,” she said in a singsongy voice. “I’m like one hundred percent certain that’s not going to happen.”
“If I’m wrong, we’ll talk about it. In the meantime, your luggage was sent to your room, along with everything you need for tomorrow.”
Miriam looked and sounded like a sweet old lady, but she ruled the dormitories with an iron fist. Tinsley would learn that soon enough.
“Have a good night, Miriam.” I motioned Tinsley toward the stairwell. “Let’s go.”
Silence greeted us on the second floor. The girls would be in the dining hall for another hour before checking into their rooms and settling in for the first day of school.
I didn’t venture into this building often. I avoided it, to be honest. Too many teenage hormones and frilly pink things. Not to mention, I dreaded walking past an open door and seeing something that would put me in a compromising position.
“There are no cameras in the halls.” I stopped at the second door. “No locks on the rooms.”
“Where does the snitch sleep?” At my blank look, she clarified. “The big sister.”
“Daisy is next to you.” I nodded at the first dorm. “The bathroom is across the hall.” I reached into the second room and flicked on the light. “This is you.”
She craned her neck, peering into the spartan space. The twin bed, desk, and nightstand waited to be personalized. Most of the students went crazy decorating their rooms. But given the single small bag on the floor, she’d only brought the necessities.
“Is that your only luggage?” I asked.
“Apparently.” She didn’t move a muscle to step into the room as if doing so would seal her fate.
That ship had already sailed.
“The student handbook is on the desk. Read it before you go to sleep. In it you’ll find campus maps and basic info like the dress code.” From my position in the hall, I spotted her bedding and uniforms in the closet. “Mass begins at eight a.m. Be downstairs at seven forty-five sharp. You’ll see where the girls are gathering to be escorted to the church.”
She stared at the room, her gaze unfocused, unblinking. Shell-shocked.
Then she pulled in a breath and looked at me. “I’m sorry for being disrespectful.”
I stared back, waiting for the catch.
“May I have my phone, please?” She fluttered her lashes.
“No.” I flicked a finger, waving her into the room. “See that door? I want you on the other side of it until morning.”
Her jaw set, her posture stiffening for a fight.
“That means now.” I used a caustic tone, one that had been known to clear out a boardroom in under three seconds.
It had the same effect with Tinsley, her entire body springing into action before I roared the last syllable.
Gasping, she backed into the room with jerky steps and bumped into the desk. Visible tremors ran along her limbs. Her chin quivered, and she held herself tightly, an arm clutched around her midsection.
But she didn’t crumple. Didn’t sink to the floor like the others. Not this girl. She stood taller, slowly lowered her arm, and squared her shoulders.
The heave of her chest pulled her shirt taut, stretching the material across smallish breasts, pert little bumps, just enough tender flesh to crush between a finger and thumb.
I tore my gaze away and stared down at my hand, at my fingers rubbing against my thumb. Mimicking. Envisioning. Wanting that which I could not have. Like an addict in withdrawal.
My hands went into my pockets. My breathing remained steady. The muscles in my face never twitched. But beneath the facade, my sickness raged in a furnace of fire.
It wanted fear and pain, blood and welts, bruising, biting, choking, pounding, pounding, pounding…raw, feral, ruthless fucking.
I craved it.
Her fear scented the air, her breaths faltering and her pretty little elven face bereft of color. But she was strong. Resilient. She could bear it.
She would take it so beautifully.
Time to go.
I pulled the door closed, shutting her away before she saw my true form. Then I got the hell out of there.
CHAPTER 6
MAGNUS
Shoving past the main doors, I burst outside at a clipped pace. The darkness wrapped around me as I hooked a finger beneath my collar and tugged it away from my throat, pulling, yanking, trying to breathe.
What the hell had just happened?
I let a student get under my skin.
That was a first, but I had it under control. It’d taken me by surprise was all. No harm, no foul. Tinsley was oblivious, and I hadn’t crossed any lines.
My only interest in her was on a nonphysical, nonsexual, academic level.
It wouldn’t happen again.
I just needed to walk off the buzz circulating through my body.
“Hi, Father Magnus!”
A group of senior girls approached from the left, heading toward the building. I turned right without responding, and they went on their way, accustomed to my surly temperament.
I took the long way to the campus gates, trekking around the backside of the main building. As I passed beneath the turret connected to my classroom, I searched the ground for a dead bat. The light from my phone aided my hunt, an effort that proved pointless.
Just as I’d suspected, the bat had flown off.
My mind gravitated to images of fearful blue eyes, pale skin, and trembling hands, curled like claws ready to draw blood.
I shoved it down and focused on tomorrow’s agenda—church, curriculum planning, and Tinsley’s placement tests.
Gravel crunched beneath my shoes, and the nighttime air cooled my skin. Clean, fresh, pure mountain air. So unlike the stench of octane and concrete in New York City. I missed the city, but I loved the tranquility here.
Veering off the path, I crossed the manicured lawn and followed the wall that bordered the campus. Constructed of stone to shoulder height, the wall didn’t restrict
the visibility of the village or the picturesque mountainscape beyond. Instead, it provided a sturdy foundation for the high-security fence that was erected on top of it. From a distance, the wires that ran between the black posts were transparent. Up close, one couldn’t miss the voltage signs posted every few feet.
Touching the fence wouldn’t kill a human, but a zap would knock a rebellious teenager off his or her feet. Every year, at least one imbecile tested it.
Nine years ago, Sion Academy was headed into bankruptcy. The primary reason was its failure to keep St. John’s male students out of the girls’ dorms. Teenage pregnancy and poor management had led to a detrimental decline in student enrollment.
When I bought the boarding school, I invested a substantial amount of my wealth into turning the place around. I added the security walls, replaced most of the faculty, created a highly competitive curriculum, quadrupled the tuition, and marketed the school to high-profile families.
Within two years, Sion had a waiting list a mile long.
The school’s core values remained the same, focusing on the development of intellect, personhood, and spirituality. But I ran the enterprise like a cutthroat business, and in business, money talked.
So when Caroline Constantine offered a seven-digit endowment, she bypassed that waiting list.
I arrived at the gate—the only way in and out—and entered my code in the keypad. The lock buzzed, and I exited the campus.
With the nearest town miles away, most of the staff lived on the property in separate housing. A single paved road ran through the village with Sion Academy on one end and St. John de Brebeuf on the other.
A three-minute stroll along the quiet street brought me to my private rectory. Most of the other priests shared a house, but I required my own space.
The door creaked as I entered the one-story residence. A kitchenette and sitting area made up the front room. A short hallway led to a bedroom and bathroom. A crucifix hung on the otherwise bare walls. Dark drapes on the windows. A threadbare couch. Wood-burning fireplace. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Modest.
Humble.
Some might say it was an inglorious step down from my penthouse in the Upper East Side. But that penthouse didn’t define my worth. My actions did.
My life had been in deficit for years.
I emptied my pockets at the table and stared down at Tinsley’s locked phone. I didn’t need to access it. The report from my investigator had provided everything I needed to know about her.
The Constantines were the jewels of Bishop’s Landing, the royalty of high society. But like most powerful families, they were involved in shady affairs, including a long-standing feud with the Morellis—another affluent family with an even dirtier underbelly.
When Tinsley’s father died six years ago, it was rumored that the Morelli patriarch had ordered a hit on him. But that was never proved, and the death was ruled an accident.
There were no surprising revelations about Tinsley herself. She was the princess of the family—innocent, sweet, and primed for a marital union of Caroline’s choosing. No doubt Caroline had been working that angle for years, positioning her daughter to marry into a family that strengthened her empire.
The thought made me sick. No one should be used that way, but it happened. Hell, it had been happening for centuries.
I stepped to the cupboard and removed a glass and a bottle of whiskey. As I started to pour, a knock sounded on the door.
“It’s open.” I grabbed a second glass.
“Thought you might want some company.” Crisanto’s lightly accented voice carried through the room.
“Bullshit. You’re here to get juicy details on the Constantines.”
“Indeed. Tell me everything.”
I turned to pass him his drink, and as always, it was his smile that greeted me first. He had a great smile. Warm and genuine, it lit up his whole face.
He wore casual clothes tonight, trading his priest collar for a T-shirt and jeans. The white of his shirt accentuated his dark skin and black hair.
When he was ten, he moved to New York from the Philippines with his mother. I remembered the day he showed up at my Catholic grade school. Couldn’t speak a lick of English. But he learned quickly, laughed easily, and shared my love for skateboarding.
We’d been best friends ever since. Inseparable until we graduated high school. Then he went to seminary to become a priest, and I took a very different path.
I carried my whiskey glass to the couch and drank deeply, savoring the smoky burn. “The meeting went as expected. Caroline threatened me. I threatened her, and now my hopes for an easy year are shattered.”
“The last time you had an easy year, you were unbearable.” Crisanto settled in beside me. “You were bored out of your mind. Grouchy. Whiny. Picking fights with the groundskeeper—”
“I don’t whine.”
“You don’t like anything to be easy, Magnus. That’s never been your style.”
I reclined back, drinking, my mind swirling with everything I needed to do tomorrow.
“Is she as beautiful as the photos on the internet?” he asked.
“Caroline?”
“No, idiot.” He rolled his eyes. “The daughter.”
If another teacher asked me that, I wouldn’t trust his intentions. But Crisanto was a priest first and cherished his living relationship with Jesus Christ above all else. Unlike me, he’d been called for a higher purpose, and he served with his whole heart. I’d never known a human being more honest and incorruptible than this guy.
Which was why I came here nine years ago, seeking his counsel.
He didn’t tell me what I wanted to hear. He told me what I needed. Then he convinced me to stay. Not just to save Sion Academy, but to save myself.
“She’s a brat.” I removed my collar and loosened the top buttons on my shirt. “An uncooperative, disrespectful, sharp-tongued hellion.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“She’s pretty for an eighteen-year-old.”
With eyes that glowed like faerie fire when she was emotional. And her boldness? God help me, her feisty spirit made my blood run hot.
I was fascinated, and that fascination made me exceedingly uncomfortable.
“Crisanto…” I stared into my glass, swishing the amber contents around and around. “I had a relapse.”
“Okay.” He set his drink down and twisted on the couch to face me, instantly sliding into his priest role. “Is this a confession?”
“No. It was just a feeling. A thought.”
“The craving.”
That was what he called it. I called it a sickness. He was the only person alive who knew my struggle. He knew every ugly secret I carried.
“Yeah.”
“The mother triggered it?”
“Not this time.”
“The daughter, then.” He released a relieved breath.
“Your exhale is not reassuring. You put too much faith in me.”
“Attraction is human nature. We all experience it, and any priest who tells you otherwise is hiding something worse. We lead a lonely life. Going to bed every night alone. Growing old alone. It’s the sacrificial nature of our vocation. But I’ll be honest. I’ve been praying for the day that you sort out your preferences. Because let’s face it. You have terrible taste in women, my friend.” He shuddered dramatically.
“You’re an asshole.”
He laughed, loud and hearty, and grabbed his whiskey.
Only he would dare to find amusement in my flaws.
He’d been at my side since the beginning. While the other boys at our school were chasing after girls, he watched me chase after their mothers and teachers.
There were no traumatic events in my childhood. No inherited traits from my boring, law-abiding, white-collar parents. Nothing in my upbringing to pin this on.
My sexual predisposition was simply part of my nature.
“Listen.” Crisanto sobered. �
��You have more patience and determination than I ever will. You’ve been a godsend to this community. The money and time you’ve put into the school is admirable. Selfless. Second to none. You’re a good man, Magnus.”
I grunted. “You know that’s not true. I’ve never been a good man.”
“I’m not talking about then. Sure, you’re still as ruthless as ever. And downright scary when pushed. Maybe I don’t agree with all your teaching methods, but when it comes to motivating the unmotivated, fear and guilt are effective tools.”
“Spoken like a true Catholic.” I held up my whiskey.
He clinked his glass with mine and drank, regarding me over the rim. “What’s different about Miss Constantine?”
“She saved a bat.”
“Do what now?”
I told him the story, sending him into another fit of laughter. Then we talked about his challenging schedule at St. John’s, debated world events, and drank too much.
By the time he stumbled back to his rectory, I felt lighter. More levelheaded. Energized for the new school year.
I was ready to lay down the law for Tinsley Constantine.
CHAPTER 7
TINSLEY
I couldn’t sleep.
It’d been hours since the clamor of laughter and footsteps had flooded the hallway outside my door. All had quieted down by ten p.m., but when the girls first arrived, I heard my last name mentioned more than once.
Yet no one had stopped to see if I was in my room. Not a single knock on my door.
If I were here of my own free will, I would’ve gone out there and introduced myself. I would’ve tried to make new friends.
But I wasn’t, and I didn’t. Fuck this place.
I rolled over in the narrow bed and could actually feel my hair frizzing and my face collecting wrinkles. How was anyone expected to sleep on this atrocious material?
I missed my silk pillowcases. I’d tried to pack them, but Justin—my mother’s puppy dog and personal assistant—had tossed them back, claiming they weren’t on the approved list. I’d tried to pack a lot of things as he stood over me with his disapproving, puppy eyes.