CHAPTER 1
ISABELLE GIRAUD BREATHED IN deeply, her hands clasped in prayer as she knelt before the altar.
A sense of peace enveloped her, a serene respite from the chaos of the town, one she always felt in the presence of Celeste. The temple was quiet, the hushed whispers of other devotees echoing up to the cavernous ceiling. The scent of incense hung in the air, orris and lavender wafting through the great open space.
She gazed up at the moon goddess, the gleaming white marble acting as a beacon of light in the dim temple. Celeste was larger than life, with rolls of sinuous fabric that dripped from her body like water. Candles sat at her feet, casting the statue in a warm glow.
The Goddess peered down upon her follower, and Isabelle felt the love in the moon mother’s pale eyes.
As she quietly recited her prayers—her lips barely moving—she sensed an ardent gaze, heat prickling the back of her neck like someone was watching her.
Isabelle remained kneeling, finishing her prayers quickly before turning to see if her mind had been playing tricks on her.
It hadn’t; her gaze pausing on a man leaning against the stone wall of the temple. A breath caught in her throat, the beauty of the mysterious figure shocking her as much as the strange smile that graced his face.
His hair was as dark as the moonless sky, falling to his shoulders in a cascade. Loose tendrils framed his face, a strong jaw and broad nose perfectly balanced with full lips. His pupils were a brown so deep they were almost black, and that smile…
A vicious smirk that sent a shiver up Isabelle’s spine, every nerve on edge as she slowly rose to her feet. She brushed off her wool skirt, trying to calm her breathing.
There was nothing to fear in the safety of the moon mother’s embrace.
Besides, others were ambling about, two priestesses discussing something in the far corner of the altar room. She glanced at them and when she turned back, the man was… gone.
Isabelle bit her lip, brows furrowed as she scanned the dim corners of the temple. But no, it was as if he had vanished into thin air, a ghostly apparition only she had seen.
Had she imagined him? Those piercing eyes and the devious smile were not something she’d forget easily, still seared into her mind as she tried to blink the specter away. But it was getting late. She needed to get to work, and there was a midnight confessional this evening that she couldn’t miss.
Isabelle hurried to the door, taking one last glance around the altar room before departing into the bright day beyond, a sense of unease clinging to her.
Work was uneventful, but busy enough that Isabelle could almost forget the strange man she saw in the altar room earlier.
Almost.
When she returned to the temple, she vowed to focus on her devotions instead of the questions whirling through her head about the moon mother’s mysterious guest. All were welcome at the temple of Celeste–though few outside of Marilet worshipped her–and he’d done nothing to indicate he was an agitator in any way. And yet, there was something about the way he’d stared at her and the coldness of his smile that made her uneasy, along with the fact that the small, isolated town rarely had visitors.
The confessional line was long, as usual, and she knew she would be exhausted for her shift at the café tomorrow.
Isabelle felt a nudge at her side, turning to see Pierre sporting a mischievous grin. An immediate flush broke out on her cheeks and chest, the proximity quickening her pulse.
“Here to reveal all your deepest, darkest secrets?” he whispered, prickling the skin on her neck.
He winced as her elbow met his gut, though the grimace turned back into a smirk a moment later. She devoutly tried to ignore the welling of arousal in her center, tempted to brush those golden locks out of his bright eyes.
Tempted to plant a kiss on those lips.
Immoral thoughts, of course, ones she’d acted on when her will had been weak, when she’d been desperate for comfort, letting the sins of the flesh consume her.
Pierre had been a tender lover, consoling her wounded heart when she needed it most, and had even tried to court her afterward. All temptations that the moon mother told her to resist; the Goddess was the solitary being worthy of her devotion and the only one who could give her true, untainted love in return, iniquitous as she was.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said, and she bit her lip, trying to stifle a smile.
“I’ve been busy.”
Not wholly untrue. Work at the café and tavern took up most of her time, and the rest she spent worshipping or volunteering at the temple.
Her wayward lust had strayed her from piety for a short while, but no more.
“Of course,” Pierre replied, rolling his eyes. “Why don’t you come to my house after this? We can do some things worthy of confessing.”
