27

“So you still live life as a priest even though you can’t be one anymore? Isn’t that a special kind of torture?”

“Technically, I stopped being a priest the day my heart ceased beating and I woke without a soul. Some habits...” He sighed, looking uncomfortable. “There’s solace in habits. More in pain. Perhaps it is my destiny to be tortured. For what punishments of God are not gifts?”

“We’ve gone this long without you spouting scripture at me. Let’s keep it that way.”

His lips twitched, and the sight of his amusement made my stomach flutter.

“What would you like me to spout at you, then?”

Was he... flirting? On the heels of that thought came another. One I was desperate to know the answer to.

“Are you still... you know... celibate?” My cheeks burned from the deeply personal question I had dared to ask, but I had to know.

He turned slowly to look at me, his expression unreadable, and I found myself getting lost in eyes so blue they appeared black in the darkness.