Natalie’s gone, but this room still smells like her.
The table still carries the mark of her sweet wetness.
And nothing’s more appetizing right now than the food she lay in. I want to eat it all and then finish the job with her upstairs.
But this man in front of me won’t let me, and I know why.
Fucking Patrick betrayed me by getting President Lawrence. I’m sure he told him we were in here—that she was in here, eating with me. It’s against the rules … the rules he created.
His nostrils flare. I wonder if he can smell her too.
That scent is the scent of victory.
I just hope he won’t realize.
Natalie thought I was the worst man she could ever meet. Wrong.
There’s nothing this guy won’t do to get his way. But he’s met his match in me.
“Noah,” he says. “Sit.” He points at a chair that’s standing near the wreckage we left after I sucked her pussy dry.
I sit down without a hint of shame. I know what I did, and I don’t regret a single minute of it.
We stare at each other for a moment before he finally opens his mouth. “Who is she?”
“I took her from one of our conversion sessions,” I explain. “She was rather … reluctant.”
“So she wasn’t an applicant,” he says. “Just a random … whore.”
“Yes,” I answer even though I want to wrap my hands around his neck for suggesting she’s ever been in someone else’s clutches, that she would ever open her legs for anyone but me. “But you have no problems with that, do you?” I fold my arms. “After all, your wife—”
“Silence,” he growls.
Of course he doesn’t like me speaking about Marsha, but he can’t deny the truth. She didn’t come from here, didn’t grow up to be a wife, and instead was destined to remain a crack addict at a strip club. But no one ever speaks of their history after they enter the community. After all, we’re all part of the Family.
“What did you intend to do? Hide her from me forever?” President Lawrence asks, pacing around the room.
“No, I was going to introduce you sooner rather than later. I just didn’t expect Patrick to beat me to it.”
“Don’t drag him into this,” he says, glaring at me. “You know he did what was required of him when you defiled our temple.”
“Right …” I rub my lips together.
He stops in his tracks. “Rules are rules, Noah,” he says. “And for a good reason too.”
“I know, I know,” I say, holding up my hands. I don’t want to fight with him. Not now, anyway.
“Don’t be so arrogant. Do you know what’s at stake here? What happens if you refuse to follow the rules?”
I know what’s at stake here. My head. He’s had people murdered for much less.
He approaches me and leans over to look directly into my eyes. “Your status as patriarch won’t protect you if you keep breaking the rules.”
“I understand,” I say, nodding. After a short pause, I add, “I apologize. I was a little—”
“Horny?” he interrupts. His nostrils flare. “You had no self-control. And at my table, nonetheless. Spoiling our food with that filth.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t,” he says, turning his back to me again. “She will not be in this room again. As a matter of fact, give me one good reason I shouldn’t banish her from this community.” He glances at me over his shoulder. “Or have her head.”
I swallow. “Because she’s going to be my wife.”
“Says who?” he growls.
“I …” I clear my throat. “I would be honored if you would give me your blessings, President.”
I hate sucking up to him like this—hate it with all my guts—but I know it’s necessary to extinguish this fire I’ve started.
“Hmm … Has her body seduced you so badly?” He raises his brow. “Maybe I should try her out for myself and see what all the fuss is about.”
My eyes widen. I feel sick at the mere thought. “Ah, no. She … uh …”
He raises both his brows now.
Shit.
I can see it in his eyes, that same hunger I see when I look in the mirror. The need for power.
It makes men do horrible things; things normal men could only dream of.
But I’m not normal, and neither is he.
“She is already bound to me,” I say, hoping it’ll stop him.
She’s already mine, and our rules forbid the patriarchs from claiming any other woman who already belongs to a patriarch after being bound … through sex.
“Really?” he replies, snorting. “After all this time, now you choose to fuck a woman?”
I nod. “I’ve waited long enough. It was time. My father agrees.”
He narrows his eyes. “Of course your father agrees.” His tongue darts out to lick his teeth. “But your father isn’t the president. You want me to honor her as your wife? Prove to me that you choose her. Prove to all of us that you choose her over—”
“I do,” I interject, getting up from my seat. “I will.”
A vicious smirk appears on his face. “I’ll call together the patriarchs. The Patriarchal Ceremony will be tonight.”
He turns around and walks off again, but then stops as he clutches the doorway. “You know I will never stop … no matter the cost.”
I swallow. “I know.”
His fingers dig briefly into the wood, and I can almost feel them scratch at my throat.
When he’s gone, I breathe out a sigh, but it’s not one of relief.
I know he’ll keep searching. I’d have to rip his heart out of his chest for him to finally stop. But I know something he doesn’t, and I will stop at nothing to keep him from finding out that I’ve already found exactly who he’s looking for …
Natalie.
Natalie
Even though I know I’m supposed to go back to my room, I wander around aimlessly through the house they call the temple, checking out each room as I pass it. There’s a room filled with cozy seats, a giant marbled kitchen, an actual library, and then there’s the room with the giant cross in the back. I go inside and look at all the stained glass windows and the hand-carved wooden seats standing in front of what looks like an altar. Is this where they do all their prayers?
“Like our chapel?”
In shock, I turn around and come face to face with Patrick casually leaning against the doorjamb.
“I, uh … I didn’t mean to—”
“Sure, you did. You’re curious,” he says, shrugging as he lifts his eyebrows in a playful way. “It’s only natural.” He lets go of the doorway, and every step he takes toward me is one I take backward until I bump into one of the seats. It almost tumbles over, but as I struggle to grab it, he’s already reached out and kept it from falling to the floor.
“Careful there. These are almost antique.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, trying to remain calm, but he’s all up in my face and blocking the exit.
He gazes around at all the windows and the tapestries too. “Beautiful, isn’t it? This house has been in the Family’s possession for ages. But this room … this room always ignites something spiritual in the hearts of everyone who steps foot in here.”
Even he refers to this community as his family.
“What were you doing in here?” he asks.
“Ahh … nothing … just looking around,” I answer, but the way he looks at me makes me swallow. I don’t know what it is with these men, but the power they exude makes me feel weak. Vulnerable. As though my legs could falter right underneath me.
He cocks his head and glances at my fumbling fingers, and I immediately hide them behind my dress. “Do you need something?”
“No?” I mutter. “Why would I need something?” I shake my head, laughing, because it’s ridiculous, but at the same time, questions like that make me want to scream, cry, and tell him to get me the fuck out of here.
But he’s one of them. He would never help me.
Unless …
“Are you okay?” he asks, raising a brow.
I lower my head and blush. “Yeah, I think so.”
“You think so, or are you sure? Because that conversation back there looked painful,” he says, adding a laugh. “President Lawrence has this way with people. It’s just how he is.” He shrugs. “Well anyway, I just wanted you to know that I’m happy we get to welcome you to the Family.”
I smash my lips together and nod. “Thanks … I guess.”
“You don’t seem happy about it, though,” he says.
“How’d you guess?” I say, looking away. It’s hard to look a man like him in the eyes when I know he’s one of the bad guys, yet my heart wants nothing more than to talk with someone about everything I’m going through.
“I know he brought you here against your will,” he says. Suddenly, he grabs a strand of my hair and wraps it around his finger, and all I can do is stare into his brilliant blue eyes. “Sometimes I wonder if he really knows how lucky he is.”
“What?” I mutter.
“Somedays I wish it was me who was there to see you for the first time. Maybe, just maybe things would’ve gone differently then.”
Why would he say that? Is he … jealous of Noah?
“Don’t you have …?”
“A wife?” he fills in, smiling coyly. “No. I haven’t been so lucky yet.”
“But girls throw themselves at your feet in this community,” I say, and I almost wish I bit my tongue there.
He smiles but not in an arrogant way like Noah. This is more nonchalant. “Sure, it’s enjoyable, but that doesn’t mean I want them to be my wife. A wife is there forever. Until you die.” He curls his finger around my hair and tucks it behind my ear. “It has to be someone … special.”
I swallow. Hard.
“You’re lucky Noah already claimed you.”
His voice is so raw, so full of unspoken thoughts that I can’t find the words to reply.
“Does he treat you well?” he asks, placing both hands on my shoulders.
“Um … I think so,” I reply.
He leans in, and whispers into my ear, “You know … if it was up to me, I would’ve never, ever let you go through all that pain and suffering in that dark, concrete hut. I would’ve taken you straight into our home … into a warm and cozy bed … To show you how good the Family can be.”
My lips quake as he leans back again and smiles as though he never spoke a word. But what he said almost splits me in half.
He places a hand on my cheek, and says, “Don’t stray off too far, or you’ll get lost. You’re always welcome in my room of course … Upstairs, fifth one on the left.” He winks and lets go of me. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a ceremony to prepare for.”
When he turns around, I’m still flabbergasted by everything that just happened. But as he walks away, my brain kicks back into gear, and I say, “What ceremony?”
He glances at me over his shoulder with a devious look on his face. “Noah didn’t tell you? The Patriarchal Ceremony … Now that the president knows about you two, he will probably call for one to happen tonight.” He winks again and adds. “I hope you’ll be wearing the same dress.”
When the doors close, chills run up and down my spine.
I wasn’t dreaming. This really happened. Another patriarch is trying to woo me.
A part of me is disgusted, but another part of me wants to use this to my advantage. After all, the man has just as much power as Noah, which means he could help me get out of here if he wanted to. All I need to do is convince him. The question is … am I prepared to go as far as to use my body to get my way?
I sigh and close my eyes for a moment, then turn around and walk out again. Patrick isn’t in the hallway anymore. It’s actually so quiet, you could probably hear a pin drop. I wonder where everyone has gone. Maybe they’re preparing for that Patriarchal Ceremony.
I go upstairs, back to my room like Noah instructed me to. I figured it’s better than being caught looking through their stuff. I’ve done enough damage already by letting Noah do what he did on that dining table.
Just thinking about it gives me goose bumps again. Why does he have such power over me? No other man has ever been able to make me bend to his will like he does, and it scares me.
This whole place gives me the chills.
Regardless, there’s nothing I can do but wait and hope that Noah managed to convince the president that I’m not going to destroy this place even though I might … but they don’t have to know that.
I’ll keep my thoughts to myself. After all, anything I say can and will be used against me. They had cameras in the huts, so what’s to say they’re not hanging in this very room? Anyone could be watching me right this very second.
Maybe it’s Noah. Maybe it’s Patrick. It could even be the president.
Nothing I do or say is safe within these walls, and I have to remember that.
Now all I have to do is figure out how I can use this patriarchal lust to my advantage and break out of here.
“There you are.”
Noah’s voice immediately makes me sit up in bed. I don’t know how long it’s been. I must’ve dozed off because the sun isn’t shining anymore. Shit. How long did I sleep?
Noah steps inside and cocks his head. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Sleep well?”
“I think so,” I say, tucking my hair behind my ear as though I’m trying to cover up for a messy hairdo. Why do I even care? I shouldn’t.
“You look worried,” he says, approaching me.
“I … uh … maybe,” I mutter.
“What are you thinking about?” Noah sits down on my bed.
“The president doesn’t like me, does he?” I ask. “If he doesn’t approve of me becoming your wife, what will happen to me?” I rub my lips together. I’m almost too afraid to ask. “He won’t—”
“Kill you?” he interjects. Then when he sees the serious look on my face, he bursts out into laughter. “No, of course not.”
I breathe a sigh of relief even though I shouldn’t because everything about this is insane. But I’m still relieved. The president seemed like the kind of man who’d do just that.
“He likes you. He just doesn’t know it yet,” Noah jokes, a wicked smile spreading on his lips as he places his hand on mine. “C’mon. Time to go.”
“Where?” I ask as he gets up.
“The Patriarchal Ceremony,” he explains, and he pulls my hand to his mouth and presses a kiss on top. “To officially pronounce you as my wife.”
He pulls me off the bed and drags me to the door. “Wait, shouldn’t I put on new clothes?”
I know that makes me sound compliant, but I don’t know how special this occasion is going to be, and I’d rather not give them more ammunition to hurt me. These patriarchs can do whatever they want with no one standing in the way to punish them for any mishaps.
In this community, the Family, they are gods.
And gods are to be feared and listened to or you’ll be reckoned with.
“I picked your dress specifically for this,” he says. “It looks perfect on you.”
Somehow, my brain picks that up as a compliment, and I blush as Noah pulls me along with him through the hallways of this giant mansion, up a few long and twirling stairs, until we come to a singular room in the attic. He opens the door, and I peer over his shoulder to see what’s inside.
A large, round mosaic window is in the back of the hardwood-floored room filled with red carpets, and in the middle stands a larger-than-king-size bed with red bedding and a big golden cross at the back. Around it are six chairs … filled with five patriarchs and a president.
My eyes widen, and my heart stops as they turn to look at me.
“What is this?” I mutter in disbelief.
Noah’s grip on my hands tightens as he closes the door behind us. “The Patriarchal Ceremony … The ultimate form of love shown in front of God himself.”
