Provoke by Olivia Ryann

Author:Olivia Ryann
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2018-12-09T23:00:00+00:00

4

T he sound of Father Derrik zipping up his pants seems to echo through the room. I rest my hands on my knees, kneeling on the floor. My head hangs low. The top half of my dress has been pulled off, the bottom rucked up around my hips. I can’t manage to move my gaze off the ground as I wipe at my lips.

My tears have dried by now, but I still feel wretched and dirty. While Father Derrik hears my confession, he whispers things to me. Things like how perverse I am, making him behave this way. How I’m a seductress and I have no right to act as I do. How he will purge me of my sins if it is the death of him.

“Get up,” Father Derrik orders, stern now. “People will think you were raised poorly when you’ve been practically spoiled since you’ve been here. I would hate to have to bring your sister Amabel in here during our next session, to have her witness the depravity you show.”

Next session? My heart hammers in my chest, pressing against my ribs. I didn’t think that I would continue to have confessions with the Father, not after I married Prince Henrick.

My cheeks burning, I climb to my feet. I loathe the idea of Father Derrik bringing my sister into these sessions, which I think he knows. The idea that my sister would know what happens in here, that she might turn away and be ashamed of me… that is almost too much to bear.

Then there is the fact that Amabel is genuinely prettier and more pious than I am. I’m afraid that Father Derrik wouldn’t be able to resist her.

And I don’t want Ama to ever feel the way I do right now. Plus, a little tiny piece of me gloats whenever I’m pulled away for this.

I’m special.

I’m different.

The fact that I have these thoughts is another layer of shame, heaped on top of all the others. But none of that matters just now, as I pull the sleeves of my dress back onto my arms and right the itchy black wool skirt.

Father Derrik tsks. “You are such a disappointment. Do you know that? If your mother and father were still alive, they would be embarrassed to call you their daughter.”

I suck in a breath. That barb landed, but I’m careful not to let it show. When Father Derrik knows that something hurts, he does it more, for longer, and harder. He’s been giving me private confessions since I was fourteen; by now it’s just instinct to hide my emotions.

Not too much, of course. It’s better to let him see that I’m scared of him.

A knock comes on the door. Father Derrik walks around to my front, grabbing my chin and raising my face to meet his eyes. “Prince Henrick is coming. You will behave, or you will be punished. Am I understood?”

I nod stiffly, and he releases me with a huff of disgust.

“Enter!” he calls, his hand moving to my shoulder for a moment.

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