The late afternoon sun's setting light had shown weakly through the large stained glass windows, decorating the marble interior of the church in an array of vibrant colors. The only sounds in the large and near empty church were on the elderly priest's droning voice and their footsteps on the polished floor.

The general's attention though was clearly not on the high priest as he spoke about new religious schools that needed to be built and enforcing stricter religious codes throughout Andalonia. Rather, it was on the honeyed and achingly familiar scent who had recently walked through the many pews, adding various fresh flowers for each altar.

"Hmph." Ronan grunted softly, vaguely acknowledging the priest as he now ranted about 'moral decay' and 'severe spiritual decline in the army' while his purple gaze was locked on a certain door in the back where scent was strongest. It was intermingled with herbs and the recent rain that fell over the kingdom a few hours ago, making it all that more intense and addicting. His blood ran hot causing a faint rumble in his chest alongside a rush of pheromones to expel, catching the elderly priest's attention. "Is something the matter general? Did I say something to displease ye?"

His eyes snapped back to the priest's expecting gaze, making his body rigid at how much of his perfected control he had lost just from scent alone. "No, I just remembered I must make a confession before I leave..." The priest's eyes flashed with approval.

"Ah, I heard from the priestess that ye have been coming by more often to repent. It is good to see the general able to lower himself to the rest of us. But as I was saying however, the king's constant wars drain resources that could better serve the church and its people. There must be more spiritual guidance rather than bloodshed." The elderly man pointed a gnarled finger up at the general. "You have his ear so surely you must be able to make him see reason."

Ronan's eyes darkened as his scent took on a very sour note as his anger bubbled up within him. "His majesty wages these wars to protect an' expand the kingdom," The raspy sound of his voice thickened with irritation and anger. "I would say the church profits especially from such things more than anyone else from his victories."

The priest held his hands up, hoping to placate the agitated alpha. "I apologize, I did not mean to offend him or ye with my concerns." The elderly man turned from him, desperate to change the subject. "Perhaps that should be all for today, I have to see to other things before the last of the light has gone away." He scurried away, his deep red and golden robes fluttering behind him.

A harsh scoff left Ronan's lips, forcing himself to calm down until he heard a door open up, drawing his attention to see his favorite priestess standing there in her own robes, specially made for her status as the priestess of the church.

It was as if everything faded around him, his eyes trailing her curves as if reading the most holy scripture. There wasn't a moment of hesitation as he moved over to her, crowding her back into the room and closing the door behind him, glad there wasn't another soul currently in that church in that moment.

"Ye knew I was here... an' still left me to listen to that bumbling fool... Was that to be my punishment for the last time I left ye here then?" He backed her up to the decorated wall, the candles in the room flickering to match the heat within him. His hands were soon on her waist, lifting her up against the wall, higher and higher till it forced her to have her legs over his shoulders, her robes pushing up to her thighs and only then did he pin her there, looking up at her as his eyes nearly seemed to glow.

Her scent curled around him stronger than ever and made him growl deeply, turning his face and trailing his nose along the side of her knee. "I always wonder what everyone would think... if they saw their precious little priestess like this... but then I remind myself that I'd kill anyone if they dared look upon what is mine." He grazed his teeth against her skin, while the silk of her robes may have been soft, her skin alone was like the finest velvet and he intended to leave many marks upon it before he left tonight.

"Tell me, how often do ye think of me while I'm away... do you touch yerself an' imagine its me instead? Do ye *burn* as much as I do fer ye..." Another growl rose in his chest as he trailed his bearded jaw up her thighs to the heavenly altar between her legs that he planned to worship until she was as shaky as a newborn lamb.