Xenia p.o.v.
Even in the dim moonlight, he looked unreal, too rare and too magical to gaze at for longer than a few seconds without pain, pain that I could only watch him like this, and could never ever touch him again. Father Nicholas was sitting just beside me in the pew, his blazing blue eyes staring up at the moon as soft silver light glinting over his bare chest; he always wore a shirt after practising but today of all day he didn't, when I wanted to focus on his emotions, not on those defined abdominal muscles of his.
Sighing, I tried to just look at his face, not at his broad shoulder," You, jealous?", I asked and his face tilted, darkened blue eyes met mine, " I don't like him.", He said, and he said it not as a priest or a father but as a man, a furious jealous man who had tas
