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   Chapter 15 When Desires Are Confessed

Resurrect Thy Heart By JMFelic Characters: 23657

Updated: 2018-09-05 22:06


Although Ysabelle was worried sick about Father Marcus' welfare, she was still able to doze off the moment she hit her bed. Fatigue and exhaustion is always the drawback of having to chaperone her niece and take pictures of the class tour all day long, and sleeping is always the best cure of it, especially when it is uninterrupted the whole night. Ysabelle was hoping to experience that, but her uninvited visitor had other plans.

The bedroom door opened and closed without making a sound. No footsteps were heard too as the room's carpet muffled it. But Marcus was present and was inching his way closer to the sleeping woman.

Her face and chest was gently illuminated by the moon's light passing through the half open window. A bed sheet covered her warmly, but under it she was wearing a loose-fitting, cropped tank top and a flimsy sleep short — the most comfortable sleeping garments she had ever worn. Gone were the thick, uncomfortable skirts, the itchy wool fabrics, the rough cotton and the impractical animal cloth she had used over the thousands of years she had lived. If there was one thing that she was happy about during the world's changes, it was the fashion sense of its people. A change that she had welcomed almost without question.

Gorgeous was the fall of her hair on the pillow. The plumpness of her lips, the rosy blush of her cheeks and the thick drape of her eyelashes added to the breathtaking sight. Marcus —or the entity controlling his body —produced a pleased grin.

H removed an obstructing pillow and seated slowly at the edge of the mattress, in Ysabelle's right side so that he could see well how her cleavage was exposed nicely. A little more lower than what it was, her pink nipples would have been exposed.

Staring at her sleeping form, H acknowledged that she was a beautiful sight to behold. No wonder the brotherhood had appointed notable families to protect her, to keep her untouched since they found out she was an immortal. No wonder André Rogratiatto fell in love with her and volunteered himself to be the sacrifice. No wonder Marcus was the same, but H had felt another different kind of connection between the two the moment he infused himself inside the priest's body. Some kind of connection bordering more than any human emotion itself. This — he did not understand what.

"Ah, but all of their hard work will be for nothing, " he crooned, taking a satisfied sweep of his eyes on the now-exposed woman when he disintegrated the bed cover with a flip of his hand. "Your most guarded virtue is mine woman, and I am going to enjoy taking it. Marcus is going to learn what it feels like to fuck a woman."

With his attention on her cleavage, he raised his hand again and hovered it above, intending to cup one generous mountain. This he did while licking his lips, actually looking forward to sucking on the taut peaks. But leaving only an inch left before contact, H paused and clenched his teeth.

"Fuck, this is so easy, " he grumbled and stood up, disappointed. He eyed an available chair across the bed near the armoire and this was where he decided to sit, crossing his legs and resting both his elbows on the armrests. He licked his lips again and brushed his thumb below Marcus' own damnable lips. "Let's make this complicatedly fun shall we?" he said, grinning. And then, a violet mist surrounded Ysabelle in her bed.

*

*

*

It didn't feel like Ysabelle was in a dream when she found herself in a cave. She could feel the coldness of the ankle-deep water in her feet and the soft texture of the sand beneath them. She could feel the wet garments she was wearing and how it clung perfectly in her curves. She could distinguish the scent of the place too — an earthly scent similar to lemon and eucalyptus mixed with the salty air.

The cave was a massive earth formation that stretched fifteen storeys high. Rocks of black and violet walled the inside, while a shallow to deep water in blue shades centered the area. It was magnificent in its entirety, but there was nothing that could compare the scenic picture just a short distance away from her.

It made Ysabelle's eyes wide, caught by its beauty.

Though it was a gloomy place, the beam of the moon — if it was the right source of light — left it mystical and captivating. The yellow light rays were fixed in one area alone as if it was spotlighting gemstones instead of grouped smooth-surfaced rocks. There was a waterfall of roots, beginning from the cave ceiling hole down to the sandy body of water. The place itself offered a sweet chance of rest and this was exactly where a man was resting, sitting in one of the medium rocks with his feet on the shallow water and his right arm pillowing his head. He was naked from the waist up, wearing a wet black trouser that was clinging onto his limbs. His eyes were closed, lips slightly parted, and his expression peaceful — or so it seemed.

Ysabelle's breath hitched. With one look alone, she immediately realized who the man was.

Marcus.

He was Father Marcus and God, this man looked like he was venerated by the cave.

If only she had her camera in her hand, she would have taken continuous pictures of him, but she didn't, so she committed the sight to memory, tucking it in the safest place of her thoughts so that she alone can enjoy it.

Ysabelle neared him without so much as a thought, mesmerized by the way he shined under the light.

"Marcus..." she whispered quietly when she was but a feet away from him.

Though it was not her intention, she lifted up a hand, unable to resist the temptation of sweeping a single rogue lock from his forehead. But then, she yelped, suddenly caught up by the wrist with Marcus' strong grip.

Their eyes met, each one with a degree of surprise and bewilderment.

"Ysa-belle?" Marcus whispered her name like she was some damn ghost miracle.

She tried to pull her hand away, but failed miserably.

"Marcus! I mean—ah, Father Marcu—"

"Why are you here? How did you get here?" he asked, not waiting for her to finish. He pulled her closer, not having to use too much force for she easily swayed under his hold.

Ysabelle's free hand, in response, shot up in between them. She was nearly out of balance and if Marcus would have pulled her more, she would have stumbled directly into his hard chest.

"Father Marcus, please let me go, " she requested, looking down and avoiding his gaze. Funny, she doesn't seem to feel the lightheaded sensation even though he was touching her. Her cheeks blushed and she felt her face hot.

"Are you real? Are you really here with me?" For Marcus to ask that was expected, but he shook his head immediately, rectifying his mistake. His expression changed from being surprised to that of pain and distaste. "Huh, what am I talking about. Of course, you aren't. You are just an illusion, " he complained more to himself.

Ysabelle's brow flinched. She was supposed to be disappointed with his words, but she instead gathered up her wits and

readied herself to further her questioning, but she was interrupted when Mr. Grann appeared behind her.

"Father Marcus, " he called, half relieved and half saddened.

H knew exactly why.

"Mr. Grann, " he acted as if he didn't know.

"Good morning Father, " the assistant caretaker started, "I need to talk to you Father. There is a...bad news."

"Oh?" Marcus cocked a brow. "What is it?"

"It is Mr. MacMillan, Father. He...he didn't make it." There was a sudden lump in his throat that he immediately cleared it up. "There was too much blood lost and when we arrived in the hospital, he was already pronounced dead."

Ysabelle's heart broke and she gasped, releasing her camera and pressing both of her hands in her mouth. "Oh, God, " came her muffled voice. She looked at Marcus who appeared to take the bad news quite easily. She didn't miss out a sad tilt of his head though, but it was just tentative.

"I see, " he spoke, eyeing the man with sadness — or acting like it in a believable way. "That is unfortunate to hear. Hemorrhage is always a problem when it comes to demon possessions like this."

"It is truly unfortunate Father, but set aside these events, I would like to extend my gratitude to you, for your service and for trying your best. Right now, what had happened to Mr. MacMillan somehow opened up the point-of-view of the staff here in the castle. I believe it has strengthened their faith better than before."

"But, Mr. Grann, what about Mr. MacMillan's family?" Ysabelle butted in. As an immortal, she knew exactly what death means for a person and that is that someone, somewhere there is going to a family that would miss him and grieve for him. It was an undeniable truth. A truth she had tested and underwent for thousands of years. Hearing this news freshened the wounds and pain in her heart. It made her feel the taunting loneliness promised to her every day of her life.

The heavens knew how much she had bonded and cared for the many families that the brotherhood had appointed to her. Each family, each member were close to her heart. Though some were not so kind and accepting like Madame Regina and Master Alfon Rogratiatto, they were still thought of as her precious family. And like all others before them, she will grieve their loss once they die and she will be left alone in this world, again to adjust for a new family to live and make memories with.

"Oh, Ms. Ysabelle, Mr. MacMillan doesn't have a family. His wife died without leaving him sons or daughters to be with, " Mr. Grann replied with all honesty, clutching his hat and pressing it in his chest.

No one said anything for a long minute. It was Marcus, who somehow seemed distressed looking at Ysabelle's saddened eyes, managed to break the silence.

"Please, leave us for a moment, Mr. Grann. I believe someone needs the sacrament of confession."

"Oh, of course, Father, " the caretaker said aware of Ysabelle's mournful state, "please make your stay comfortable still. The castle will shoulder all of the expenses, don't you worry."

Marcus nodded and when the man left, he turned to Ysabelle who was already on the verge of crying.

H shared the same body with Marcus - the whole package so to say - and it unfortunately includes his heart. Though his dark power would have shut off and suppressed all of the priests human emotions, he was surprised to find out that a part of Marcus still lingered on the surface. The reason why — he doesn't know once again.

His hands were itching to touch her. He — or the Marcus side — wanted to embrace her and console her. It was a strong pull and H despised it.

Ysabelle luckily was able to hold back her tears. She gasped a little when she saw Marcus' hands stopped midair and clench. She knew he was restraining himself for anymore physical contact with her. Though she would have wanted to be comforted, she was relieved that Marcus didn't continue. She wouldn't want to be lightheaded in this day because of his touch, especially that she had a whole class activity ahead for her to capture.

Stepping backward, she bent her head and apologized, "I'm sorry Father Marcus, I should go, " and then went off with a heavy, heavy heart, avoiding eye contact with him.

This man... this man will also leave her. Marcus will also die sooner or later. And if she were to guard her heart with that and the pain that comes with his death, she will have to stop the growing feelings and desire she had on him. The question now is... how?

Oh, but she knew exactly how.

That's what her last wish is for, to become mortal and to die, so that she wouldn't experience the pain of being left alone again.

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