Awakening The Beast

Chapter Three - Blessed Be The Temptation

The chapel smelled of candle wax, old wood, and rain.

Addison Rin sat in the last pew, swinging one leg impatiently while the other girls knelt with their heads bowed. She had been at Saint Catherine’s Retreat for only a few days, yet she was already certain of three things.

The food was terrible.

Sister Margaret hated her.

And Father Lucien Moreau was going to be the death of her.

It was ridiculous, really. She had met handsome men before. Men with expensive watches, charming smiles, and enough confidence to make an entire room turn their heads.

But Lucien was different.

He rarely smiled. His voice was quiet but commanding, and his grey eyes had a maddening habit of making her feel as though he could see straight through every lie she told.

Naturally, she wanted his attention even more.

“Addison.”

She glanced up.

Sister Margaret stood beside the pew, her mouth pressed into its familiar disapproving line.

“Confession begins in five minutes. You will participate.”

“Do I have to confess something?”

“Everyone has something to confess.”

Addison smiled sweetly. “How convenient.”

Sister Margaret narrowed her eyes. “Try not to make a mockery of a sacred practice.”

“I wouldn't dream of it.”

That was a lie.

Five minutes later, Addison found herself standing outside the confessional.

Through the wooden screen, she could hear a low voice speaking to another girl. Father Lucien was already inside, listening to confessions as he did every Friday evening.

Addison pressed her lips together, trying to decide whether she was nervous.

She wasn't.

At least, that was what she told herself.

When the girl finally emerged, looking relieved, Addison slipped inside and closed the little door behind her.

The confessional was dim, lit by a narrow strip of golden light. A wooden screen separated her from the priest, allowing them privacy without revealing their faces.

She knelt.

For several seconds, neither of them spoke.

Then Lucien's familiar voice broke the silence.

“Begin when you're ready.”

Addison smiled to herself.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

“When was your last confession?”

“Honestly? I can't remember.”

“That would be a good place to start.”

His tone was calm. Professional.

Infuriatingly attractive.

“I've been disobedient,” she continued. “Ive been having s****l thoughts about you."

" Thoughts are not a sin."

"I touch myself moaning your name as my juices run down my thighs."

Something was rising in his pants , he cleared his throat.

"Enough!

A pause.

Addison's smile faded slightly.

"Why are you here Addison , why did your parents send you."

There it was. The question everyone seemed determined to ask, as though the answer might magically make her grateful for being abandoned at a remote retreat.

“Because they think I'm a disappointment,” she replied.

Lucien said nothing immediately.

For once, Addison wished he would stop being so quiet. His silence made it difficult to hide behind jokes.

“Have they told you that?” he asked at last.

“They don't need to. I can read a room, Father.”

“Sometimes we interpret silence as rejection when we don't know what another person is thinking.”

“Are you saying my parents love me?”

“I'm saying I don't know what your parents feel. But their choices do not determine your worth.”

Addison stared at the wooden screen.

She hadn't expected that answer.

She had expected a lecture about obedience, humility, and respecting her elders. She had prepared several sarcastic responses for precisely that occasion.

Instead, he had said something that made her throat tighten.

She hated that.

So she did what she always did when someone came too close to the truth.

She changed the subject.

“Can I confess something else?”

“Of course.”

“I think about someone I shouldn't.”

There was a brief silence.

“Is this person someone you have hurt?”

“No.”

“Someone you are deceiving?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then tell me what troubles you about these thoughts.”

Addison leaned closer to the screen, lowering her voice even though nobody could hear them.

“It's a man.”

“Many people think about someone they are attracted to, Addison. Attraction itself is not a sin.”

She froze.

He knew it was her.

Of course he knew. He had probably recognized her voice the moment she spoke.

She decided to stop pretending.

“I'm attracted to you, Father.”

Silence.

For the first time since she had met him, Lucien seemed to take a moment before answering.

Addison's heart gave a triumphant little leap.

Perhaps she had finally managed to surprise him.

“Addison,” he said, his voice measured, “this is a confession, not an invitation to flirt.”

“Who's flirting?”

“You are.”

She bit back a laugh.

“Maybe I simply appreciate the priest's excellent listening skills.”

“Then allow me to demonstrate them. You seem determined to provoke a reaction from me. Why?”

The question caught her off guard.

She opened her mouth, ready with a clever answer, but nothing came.

Why did she want his attention so badly?

Because he was handsome? Certainly.

Because he was forbidden? That made the attraction even more tempting.

But there was something else. He didn't seem impressed by her beauty or frightened by her sharp tongue. He looked at her as though she were a person, not a problem to be solved or a daughter to be corrected.

She hated how much that mattered.

“Maybe I want to know if there's anything beneath that perfect priestly composure,” she finally said.

“There is a person beneath every public role.”

“Then perhaps I'd like to meet him.”

“You are here as a resident of this retreat. I am one of the people responsible for your care. That distinction matters.”

His words were firm, without cruelty.

Addison's smile weakened.

“So that's it? You don't find me attractive?”

“That isn't what I said.”

Her pulse quickened.

Lucien continued before she could seize on his words.

“What I am saying is that my responsibilities to you matter more than satisfying your curiosity. I will not turn your vulnerability into something for my own benefit.”

For once, Addison had no teasing reply.

She had expected him to tell her she was too young, too reckless, or too troublesome. She had expected him to dismiss her feelings as another childish rebellion.

Instead, he had drawn a boundary without making her feel foolish for having feelings in the first place.

Somehow, that made her want him even more.

“Have you ever wanted something forbidden, Father?”

The question lingered between them.

“Yes,” Lucien answered after a moment. “Like most people, I have faced desires that required me to make a choice.”

“And did you always make the right choice?”

“No.”

The honesty surprised her.

“What happened?”

“That is not something I can discuss with you in confession.”

“Because you're a priest?”

“Because this conversation is about you, Addison. Not my past.”

She sat back on her heels.

There was a story there. She could feel it. Something buried beneath his calm expression and immaculate black clothing.

For the first time, her curiosity stretched beyond his face and voice.

Who had he been before he became Father Lucien Moreau?

And what had made him choose a life in which he had to deny so much of himself?

“Fine,” she murmured. “I'll save your mysterious past for another day.”

“This is not a game.”

“I know.”

The words escaped before she could dress them up in sarcasm.

For a moment, the little confessional seemed quieter than ever.

Then Lucien spoke gently.

“You are not a bad person because you feel attraction. But you are responsible for what you do with your feelings. So am I.”

Addison swallowed.

“And what should I do with mine?”

“Give yourself time to understand them. Don't let the thrill of wanting something forbidden convince you that it is necessarily right for you.”

She frowned.

“You make everything sound terribly complicated.”

“Some things are.”

“That's disappointing. I was hoping for a dramatic answer.”

“I'm afraid you'll have to settle for an honest one.”

She laughed softly.

There it was again—that maddening steadiness.

“Are we finished, Father?”

“Is there anything else troubling your conscience?”

Addison hesitated.

Then, because she was Addison Rin and restraint had never been her greatest virtue, she said, “One last thing.”

“Go on.”

“If you weren't a priest, would you still look at me like I'm trouble?”

A long silence followed.

When Lucien finally answered, his voice was gentle but unmistakably firm.

“Your life is not a test of my self-control, Addison. You deserve to be treated with care, not made responsible for another person's choices.”

The answer settled over her more heavily than she expected.

She had wanted to make him stumble.

Instead, he had made her think.

“That's not an answer,” she whispered.

“It is the only answer I can give you here.”

She looked down at her hands.

For the first time since arriving at Saint Catherine's, she felt no immediate urge to argue.

“Thank you, Father.”

“You're welcome.”

She waited another moment, hoping he might say something else.

He didn't.

Eventually, she made the sign of the cross, rose, and opened the door.

Before leaving, she glanced back at the screen.

“Goodnight, Father Lucien.”

“Goodnight, Addison.”

She stepped into the chapel, her cheeks warm and her thoughts in complete disarray.

She had entered the confessional hoping to unsettle a priest.

Instead, she had confessed something she hadn't even admitted to herself.

She wanted to be seen.

And somehow, Lucien Moreau had managed to see her without giving her the reaction she wanted.

That was going to be a problem.

---

Lucien remained in the confessional long after Addison had left.

He listened to her footsteps fade down the chapel aisle before slowly removing his hands from his clasped position.

He had heard hundreds of confessions over the years.

Confessions of anger, jealousy, shame, grief, and regret.

Yet Addison's words had unsettled him in a way he disliked.

Not because he intended to pursue her. He did not.

She was a resident under his care, a young woman navigating a difficult period in her life, and he had a responsibility to keep their relationship appropriate.

But her questions had brushed against a part of his history he rarely allowed himself to remember.

A life before the collar.

A life in which he had understood power, surrender, boundaries, and the delicate trust between consenting adults.

He had left that world behind for reasons he did not discuss.

He had not expected a nineteen-year-old with green eyes and a rebellious streak to remind him how much of himself he had buried.

Lucien stood, straightened his collar, and extinguished the small lamp.

Whatever Addison imagined she had discovered that evening, she had discovered nothing that changed his responsibilities.

He would not encourage her pursuit.

He would not mistake her defiance for an invitation.

And he would not allow the secrets of his past to become an excuse for compromising the trust placed in him.

Still, as he stepped out into the empty chapel, one thought followed him.

Addison Rin had arrived at Saint Catherine's convinced that everyone wanted to control her.

Perhaps the most important thing he could teach her was that she did not have to provoke someone to prove she mattered.

And perhaps the most difficult lesson he would have to teach himself was that caring about someone did not mean he had the right to claim a place in her life.

Outside, thunder rolled across the dark Parisian countryside.

The retreat's bells rang nine times.

And somewhere upstairs, Addison was already wondering what she would confess to Father Lucien next.