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Fuck. The sacrilegious word branded itself across his conscience. Fuck, she saw. The realization came with nauseating clarity, she'd caught him staring not with pastoral concern, but hungry, human want. His collar suddenly felt like a noose.
Mabel's lips twisted into something bitter and knowing. "There's something wrong, Father?" The title dripped venom.
The forest seemed to hold its breath. Somewhere deep in the woods, a branch cracked like a gunshot.
—
Mabel is too angelic to not be the target of the priest's lust.