“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.”
Chapter 22
Natalie
I shake my head, feeling sick to my stomach as Noah pulls me closer toward the bed. The patriarchs and the president sit there on their chairs, looking as though they’re bored out of their minds and waiting for things to be over, while the sweat is literally running down my back. I can’t help but feel watched as Noah sits me down on the bed while towering above me.
He doesn’t look frightened or enraged—quite the opposite, in fact—and I’ve never seen him this calm before. Why? Does he like sharing me?
“Are
you ready?” he asks.
I shake my head, my lips quivering.
I don’t understand why this is necessary. No one explained this to me in the lessons I got from that elder’s wife. No one told me this is what would happen to a patriarch’s chosen woman.
I would’ve never agreed if I knew.
Noah bends over and whispers into my ear. “It has to happen.”
“Why? Why should I agree?” I hiss back.
He tips up my chin and looks me in the eyes. “If you want to survive … submit.”
I swallow away the lump in my throat. He’s never said it like that before … like my life is on the line. But when I glance past him and see the president glaring at us, I know he’s speaking the truth. That man would probably kill us both if I don’t comply.
“It’s for your own good,” Noah adds.
“Why do they have to watch?” I ask.
“They’re witnesses to our union,” he explains, and he places both hands on my shoulders. “Now lie down.”
“Give me a reason,” I whisper. “I want something …”
Our eyes connect, and for a moment, there’s no one here but us in my mind. His fiery eyes and steady grip could force me to yield, but he doesn’t push through, almost as though he realizes this has to be my choice too.
He lowers his head and a brief smile appears on his face. “Your mother …”
Two words … that’s all it takes for me to give in.
My mother.
He knows something about her, which means she might be here.
Just the thought of getting more information about her, anything, even if it is just a whisper or an afterthought, is enough to persuade me to let him do to me what he wants. To let him fuck me in front of all these men … just so I can know my own past.
My body in exchange for my history. How poignant.
Noah places his hand on my chest and pushes again, and I let myself fall onto the bed without any resistance. I’ve done this before, and I can do it again. Even though I didn’t know Patrick was watching the last time, if I simply force myself to ignore these men, it’ll work.
It has to work.
Finding my mother is worth it. Any sliver of information could help me find her. Find my past, find myself. I have to know.
So I close my eyes and let it all slide by as Noah’s fingers wrap around my panties and pull them down. His hands slide up my legs, pushing up the dress until my pussy is exposed, and he climbs on top of me. My eyes briefly open to catch the unbuckling of his belt and the rip of his zipper, followed by a quick pull out of his cock before he comes down right on top of me.
Someone rings a bell.
“The Patriarchal Ceremony will now begin,” the president’s voice booms.
Noah takes a deep breath and slides inside me with ease, and I bite my lip when he gets even harder inside me. I try not to let him notice, but it’s too late, as his eyes fixate on me and he caresses my cheek.
“It’ll be over quickly … I promise,” he whispers.
As though it’s just work. In and out. Job well done.
But it’s not, and I know it’s not, and even though I told myself I would close my eyes until it was finished so I didn’t have to see those men, I can’t stop myself from staring straight into Noah’s eyes. I want him to see. I want him to know that I’m only letting him do this because of our exchange. Because it’s my choice to do so.
And I can tell from the way he looks at me that it’s not at all sexy to him either. He looks as though he’s irritated, like he’s about to pull out and storm off. But he doesn’t. He keeps thrusting into me at a steady pace, never taking his eyes off me, as though he wants to drown himself in me.
As though he’s forcing himself to witness my rage.
I won’t stop him. If he wants to chastise himself, he deserves every ounce. I’ve already lost all my dignity, might as well enjoy it for what it is.
My eyes drift away from his in a moment of clarity, but they meet Patrick’s eyes instead, and I’m struck by how bothered he looks. He’s literally slouched in his chair, arms crossed, eyes like thin slits, lips smashed together, as though he’s barely making it through watching Noah and me … fuck.
It’s despicable, and I want to close my eyes and cover myself with a blanket, but that’s not possible.
Suddenly, Noah’s hand wraps around my chin, and he says, “Don’t look at them. Look at me.”
I gulp as he fucks me even harder, almost emblazoned by my attempt to humanize the people watching me.
“I own you now,” he murmurs.
I grimace. “You only own my body.”
His eyes twitch, but his dick hardens inside me.
“Everything you are belongs to me,” he growls, and he starts pumping like a madman.
Is he angry? Hurt that I won’t give him my heart and soul? Good. I hope it stings with just a fraction of the anger I feel.
“Look at me, Natalie,” he murmurs, his finger still on my chin as he fucks me with rhythmic strokes. “Look at your husband. Your owner. Your lover.”
And before I can say anything, he’s smashed his lips onto mine. His kisses have never been greedier, more ravenous than they are right now, and I can barely resist. Even though I try not to give in, my mouth moves along instinctively. But my eyes follow his as he glances back and forth between me and Patrick, the intensity blazing in each of his looks.
This isn’t just for show … this is to stake a claim. To tell Patrick to back off or else …
But I wonder what else could happen. So I keep staring at Patrick until the jealousy seeps through his eyes so badly he has to look away.
The spell is broken, and in that instant, Noah leans up, pins me to the bed with two hands on my throat, and thrusts into me fully. A groan escapes his mouth and a warm, wet liquid squirts into me … and I can’t … fucking … breathe.
He pants heavily, still upright and on top of me. His fingers slowly peel away from my neck, and a tear escapes my eyes as I gasp for air. The whole room is silent as I struggle to regain my breath.
“The deed is done,” the president’s voice booms again. “Noah with Natalie … husband and wife until death.”
All the patriarchs stand and one of them rings that bell again. Then they all leave through the same door we came through and close it behind them.
As if they’re expecting the newlyweds to want some more time to themselves for another fuck.
Noah gets off the bed and tucks everything back in, then zips himself up again as though nothing ever happened. He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t even acknowledge my existence except for a few words.
“Be ready tomorrow. I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
I make a face as I crawl off the bed, but the minute I do, he turns around and walks toward the door.
“What … that’s it?” I ask, patting down my dress to regain a tiny bit of decency.
He sighs again, his head between his shoulders, almost as if something’s weighing him down. “That’s it.”
He opens the door, but then pauses again. “I … wish I didn’t have to be this way.”
Then he walks off and shuts the door.
Regrets. That’s what he leaves with?
After fucking me until he came in front of everyone, willingly … he’s the one with regrets?
My face scrunches up, and rage bubbles up to the surface and bursts out in a violent scream. I grab the pillow and punch it a few times before chucking it across the room.
“FUCK!” I yell as loud as I can.
I don’t care if they hear it. They won’t punish me for it. Not when I’ve just been “married” to a patriarch who wants to keep my body intact so I can birth for him. It’s fucked up, and they all know it. They just don’t care.
How long has this been going on? How many women have been subjected to these men? How many came before me, before them? Why won’t the government do something about communities like these? Have the police never
shown up on their doorstep and demanded a look inside? Maybe they’ve kept them at bay with force. Or do they have some sort of arrangement with them? A loophole in the law that allows them to do whatever they want as long as it’s on this land?
No one will tell me anything. The only way to find out is to go search for information myself.
I get up from the bed and look around the empty room. It still smells of sex and old men stench, and it makes me want to retch, so I immediately get up and waltz out the room, slamming the door shut behind me. I don’t ever want to come back here again to this room they use for blessing marriages … and impregnating women.
My feet stop at the top of the stairs, and my hand immediately covers my belly right on top of my scar. With closed eyes, I suck in a ragged breath and blow it out right away to calm myself down. It was just one time. Two times, if I count the one in the Jacuzzi. The chance is small. It won’t happen, not to me. I promised myself that.
With my head held high, I march downstairs and banish the memory of being on that bed with all those eyes on me to the back of my head, so I’ll never have to think about it again.
Chapter 23
Natalie
A week later
I haven’t left my room out of pure spite.
Even though there are no more guards at my door, which I assume is because they don’t think I’m an escape risk anymore, I still don’t want to leave.
I’d rather sit here than spend one second in the presence of these assholes who watched me fuck the man who is now … my husband.
My mind still can’t wrap itself around the fact that I’m married. According to the Family’s rules anyway. None of this would ever hold up in a real court of law.
But what can I do here in the temple? With no power, no weapons, no voice, nothing to defend myself with? Nothing. My only option is to stay here as a sign of protest.
To show them I don’t agree with how things go here.
But staying in my room, isolated from everyone else, puts a toll on my mental health. And I don’t think I can hold out for much longer.
Under His Rule (Dark Romance Suspense) Page 17