Seduction Of Father Willan Colt: Seduction Series

By Jimi Paige

It is said that a man's greatest vulnerability can be found in his deepest secrets and desires.
It began with lust, an unresolved desire.
It began with lies, a deceitful heart.
Then came the murders, and blood orgies.  
    Torn between the dictates of his calling as a priest, lures and pulls of his unresolved desires of the flesh, Father Willan entered into an intensely sensual and emotional relationship with Lithoria, the ultimate seducing entity.
It is said that a man's greatest vulnerability can be found in his deepest secrets and desires.  
But what if a spiritual entity is able to read the filth harbboured deep within the mind, like an open book?
A chance meeting with a succubus straight out of hell, on an agenda of fulfillment, and a mission to change her fate.
A hundred year old curse reawakened.
A roving entity on rampage, looking for her next host.
A spiritual bounty hunter.
A detective with is nose to the floor, hot n pursuit of the evidence breadcrumbs as they surface.
A clerical organization sanctioned by the Vatican to hunt down spiritual entities roaming the Earth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jimi Paige
• Release date: Mar 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393564874

Book preview

Prologue

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It began with lust, an unresolved desire.

It began with lies, a deceitful heart.

Then came the murders, and blood orgies. 

Torn between the dictates of his calling as a priest, lures and pulls of his unresolved desires of the flesh, Father Willan entered into an intensely sensual and emotional relationship with Lithoria, the ultimate seducing entity.

1 The Hunt.

Savannah, Georgia. 

Teeth bared, a snarling pack of bloodhounds coursed through dense vegetation.  Snapping and growling they followed a trail streak of evil pheromone.  A fetid scent lingered in the cold night breeze.

Tethered closely, Savior Society hunters waded through a cornfield on the outskirts of town.  The leader of the hunting pack stopped suddenly. Panting, he glanced nervously at his wrist mounted GPS tracker device.

It’s over here! He called out to his hunting crew. Hurry, before the portal opens!

Hastily, two burly men and a gangly female gathered around him.

We need to be in position if we're to stand a chance of catching whatever beast hell throws at the world this time!

The others glanced at each other, and nodded.

Yes, Father Fillip. The female said.  Dressed in all black combat trousers and snug fitting turtleneck sweaters, matching crucifixes dangled around their necks.  Long black trench coats partly concealed leather underarm pistol holsters.    

Prepare your hounds!

Hastily, they unhooked chain tethers, and held three Doberman Pincher dogs by their collars.  The dogs heaved and strained against the restraints.  Each applied hard patting and rubs to the flanks of their dogs as they tried to calm them.  They reached into their coat pockets, and pulled out small black bottles.  Uncapped bottles in hand they glanced nervously at each other as they tried to steady the agitated dogs.  

Father Fillip Stegier grinned devilishly, Are You ready?

They nodded.

Bottoms up.

On cue they gulped mouthfuls from their bottles.  Grimacing from the taste, they raised the dogs by the collars and spat vaporized mists of aromatic liquor into the dog’s eyes.

Release them!

Instinctively they let go of the dogs, and stepped back.

Howling and snarling maniacally the four black dogs rolled and writhed violently on the ground for a moment.  Eyes bloodshot the rabid animals charged through the cornfield in the same direction.

I think they've got a lock on a scent from hell! one of the males, -Father Simon-, yelped.

Father Fillip glanced at his GPS tracker.  The portal, he whispered fiendishly, Its opening!

Hurry!

They scuttled after the dogs through high corn tassel crop.  Father Fillip glanced at the screen of his GPS tracker as he waded and parted through foliage.  A peculiar circular image amongst a series of intricate shapes and patterns caught his attention.

We're getting closer, he whispered. Prepare yourselves!

On cue they began mumbling a chant of Psalms 27 in Latin.  Their low tone chants reverberated amidst encroaching crop foliage as they waded through the field.

Minutes later, they arrived at a crop circle clearing.  

A five-point pentagon amidst a prominent larger circle shape stood in the middle of an expanse of crop in front of them.  At the end of a beaten footpath, Father Fillip raised his hand to stop the crew from advancing further.  Hurriedly,