I lick my lips. “I don’t know if I can give you what you want.”
“You must,” she growls. “If you want me to be a willing participant, give me more information. Tell me the truth. Tell me about this scarf and why I had it before I came here.”
Her eyes are filled with so much worry, so much pain and hidden grief that it’s becoming too hard for me to ignore. I wasn’t planning on revealing anything to her before the time was there, but if I don’t do it, I might lose her in the process.
Even though I didn’t mind it if she hated me before, something’s changed. Something about us. When I look into her eyes, I feel so much, and it hurts to see her in pain like this when I’m the one who could resolve all of it.
I’m the cause behind her hatred, and it ruins me.
But if I tell her the truth, she’ll probably hate me even more.
“I’m not going to allow you to do this if you don’t give me even an ounce of truth, Noah,” she reaffirms. “I’d rather die than let any man control my body.”
My pupils dilate, and I place a hand on her arm. “What are you saying?”
“You know damn well what I mean …” She rips her arm away. “You forced me to make a choice, now I’m giving you one. Give me what I want or I won’t last the week. I promise you that.”
“You wouldn’t,” I say, upset at the mere suggestion that she’s going to end things forever.
“I would,” she hisses.
I can see the perseverance in her eyes, a flame that’s never shone brighter than it does now, and I know she’s serious. She’d do it just to spite me, to get in my way, but I won’t allow it.
Grunting, I get up from the bed and pace around the room. I didn’t plan on revealing this so soon, but if it’s the only choice I have to keep her in my life, then I’ll do it. “Fine.”
Her eyes immediately light up. “You … you’ll give me what I want?”
I close my eyes and let out a sigh. Then I hold out my hand and wait until she grabs ahold. “You want to know the truth? I’ll show you … but you won’t like it one bit.”
Natalie
I let Noah guide me outside onto the grass and out into the field. People are looking at us, but he flat-out ignores it, which surprises me. I always thought patriarchs weren’t supposed to be on the grounds unless for special occasions, yet here he is marching around on the community grounds as though he’s one of them. But everyone, including him, knows he’s not, yet he doesn’t seem to care even the slightest bit about what this could mean. Could he be punished by the other patriarchs for blatantly defying their rules? Does he even care that they would?
He pulls me along so defiantly, almost as though he’s on a mission, that I can’t help but think he finally saw the light. And for some reason, it makes me anxious … as though I’m not prepared to discover whatever it is he wants to show me.
“Where are we going?” I ask, in a moment of clarity.
“Your memories,” he says.
That doesn’t make any sense. You can’t just walk into your own memories. What’s he playing at?
We walk through the woods until we get to a clearing where the apple trees are kept. Some of them were planted by my own hands, their sprouts giving me a twinge of pride. But it soon fades as Noah plucks an apple from the tree and throws it at me.
“Catch,” he says, barely in time.
I frown and stare at the apple in my hand. “What’s the point of this?”
“Look at it. See anything familiar?” he muses.
“No, I don’t understand,” I reply, still staring at the apple.
What am I supposed to see?
“You were here before,” he says.
“Yes, with the other initiates and elder wives. We planted some of the trees,” I answer.
He shakes his head. “Before that.”
“There’s no before—”
“Yes, there is.” He’s never sounded more serious than now. “There were many.” He picks another apple and chucks it right at me. “Many times before …” Another one, and another one, until I can’t catch all of them and some drop to the ground.
He grabs a basket standing underneath the tree and brings it to me, picking up the apples that fell to the ground one by one until they’re all in the basket, and then he shoves it into my hands.
“We used to do this all the time,” he says.
My brows furrow. “We?”
A wicked smile appears on his face, and he leans in, picks an apple out of the basket, and takes a bite. “Savory.”
“This doesn’t make any sense,” I say. “I’ve never been here before … before all this …”
“Don’t you remember?” he asks, still clutching the partially bitten apple. “Dig deep into your memories, Natalie. Remember. It’s the only way.”
My lips part, but I don’t know what to say. Does he mean … I’m really from here? Me? I came from this community?
I shake my head. “No, my mom left me at an orphanage. I’m from the outside world.”
“You were … but only temporarily,” he says, throwing the apple away.
He grabs both my arms, causing me to drop the basket, and drags me along the trees to a well nearby. He pushes me against the stones, and says, “Look at the water.”
And I do … but all I see is my own reflection. The woman I’ve become … and maybe an inkling of the little girl I used to be. Afraid, alone … left to be raised by strangers. But I once had a mom. I know, because I remember her, I remember her beautiful auburn locks, and the sandalwood scent that followed wherever she went. The woman who held my hand as she whisked me away in the night …
And the boy who stares right back at me … the boy with the tattoo on his hand.
The boy … standing on the opposite end of the well right now.
That same boy is staring back at me through the water, rippling from the drops of my tears.
I look up, tears streaming down my face as I see the man the boy has become.
“I remember you on the night my mother left me …” I mutter, choking on my own words.
He nods and tries to approach me, but I circle around the well to keep him at bay.
“Stay away,” I growl.
I don’t know why I bark like that, but I need time, space, everything. I can’t process this all at once.
“What do you remember?” he asks, holding up a single hand.
“You … my mother … She pushed me away from my own home, from my life. And I ended up in the orphanage?” I shake my head at my own memories mixing with my own thoughts. “No, no, that can’t be right.”
“It is,” he says. “It’s the truth.”
“No, you don’t know that,” I say, my body shaking like a twig.
“Your mother lives here in the community. Just like me, you were born here, too.”
“No!” I close my eyes and will the memories away, but they won’t stop invading my mind. Images of a boy with a playful smile who would throw apples at me and run with me through the woods, that same boy who would sit with me and read books near the fire, that boy … is him.
“I’m not from here!” I yell with a visceral rage that rakes at my heart.
I want to claw at my own brain and rip out the memories, but I can’t. He’s unplugged the bottle, pulled out the genie, and there’s no way to put it all back inside.
With gentle footsteps, he approaches me again. “You forgot … because that’s what people do when they’re in pain, when the trauma is too big. They cover it up and make it disappear.”
I lick my lips but taste the salt of my own tears cascading down my cheeks. “You’re a liar.”
“You remember me, don’t you? That’s why you came to see me at that meeting in town, where I was recruiting new followers to join the Family.”
“Stop,” I say, clenching my fists together.
But he refuses to listen. “You came because you were compelled, Natalie. Don’t you see? Your heart wanted y
ou to remember!”
My body is frozen to the ground. No matter how hard I try, it won’t move. All I can do is dig my fingers deep into the well’s stones and listen to his words as they cut into my soul.
“I wanted to know where that scarf came from,” I say, my lips trembling.
“You already know the answer. It’s the same scarf your mother put around your neck when she pushed you out of your home and forced you to leave this place,” he says.
“How do you know?” I ask. My memories don’t feel like my own. They feel like … they’re his too.
He’s right in front of me now, and he grabs my face with both hands. “I know because I was there.”
“No, I don’t believe it,” I say, still not wanting to face reality.
“Look at me,” he growls, his hands still on my cheeks. “You know me.”
Tears roll down my cheeks as I look into his eyes. They’re the same eyes as the boy I once said goodbye to when my mother whisked me away into the darkness. When we left all that I’d ever known. The community. The Family. My people. My … betrothed.
Chapter 25
Noah
She jerks free from my grip and stumbles backward into the grassy mud. “No, you … we weren’t … no.” I know she can’t wrap her head around it. It’s too much to take in. “I was only a child.”
“We both were … when your father gave you to me when you still lived here,” I explain, trying to remain calm. “To become my future wife.”
“No,” she hisses, her eyes almost on fire. “You were much older than me even then.”
“Eight years isn’t much, Natalie, especially when we’re both the age we are now,” I reply.
“I’m only twenty-two. It’s fucked up,” she says.
“That may be, but it was tradition. Still is.” I step closer again while holding out my hand. “Come on now, don’t be afraid. Nothing’s changed.”
“Everything’s changed,” she says, clutching her dress as though it will bring her safety and comfort in a place she calls hell on earth. But it’s not. It can be so much more than that, if only she’d let me show her.
“I don’t belong here, yet these memories invade my mind,” she mutters.
The tears in her eyes continue to roll down her cheeks, the fire in her eyes slowly fading away, and it hurts to watch.
In her misery, she sinks to the ground and buries her face in her dress as though she wishes she could make it all disappear. And at that moment, I wish the same.
I approach her gently and place a hand on her shoulder, softly caressing her as I go down on my knees in front of her and slowly pull her into an embrace. When she collapses into my arms, I know she’s given in.
Natalie
His arms wrap around me tightly, enveloping me in sweetness as I bury my face into his velvety shirt that smells of toxic love. The same kind of love I remember when I was still young and wanted him to become my husband more than anything. And now … he is.
Because I came back. Because I couldn’t stay away. Because I had to know the truth.
“Now, you know,” he says as I lean back and look at him again.
He’s not that same Noah that I saw before, that enigmatic man who beguiled me and whisked me away into the darkness. He’s the man … who knew all of this and lied to me.
“Why?” I say through gritted teeth. “You knew I was born here, and you didn’t tell me?”
“Would you have believed me?” he replies.
“But why would my mother take me out of this community only for you to bring me back in again?” I ask. “This wasn’t a coincidence. And how … how did you know it was me?”
“That scarf. You didn’t think I wouldn’t recognize it?” he scoffs. “Natalie, you underestimate me.” He cups my chin and makes me look him in the eyes. “I’ve searched for you for so long. And when I finally found you, I knew I was going to take you back home.” The look on his face is so gentle, so sweet, that I can’t help but fall for his magnetizing gaze. Can’t help but let him come closer … and kiss me.
Even though I know it’s wrong. Even though I know he’s the man who brought me back into the world I’m fighting so desperately to get away from. I let him kiss me … because I need it.
Because my heart craves to be consoled, because my mind can’t wrap itself around these twisted truths, because my body wants to be loved … even if that love is corrupt.
Even if that love will kill me.
I need it. I need this kiss to survive this moment of realization that we aren’t just husband and wife now … we always were. From the beginning of my life, I was promised to him.
I sought him out. I came to him, not the other way around.
Of course, he’d take me back.
We were meant to be together.
It’s as if the universe wanted us to be together.
And I can’t fight it any longer.
So I kiss him back and let his tongue slip into my mouth, coaxing me, reeling me in. With one hand on my waist and one hand on my face, he pulls me closer until our bodies are locked together. Our kisses are feverish, fast, and uncontrolled, just like my mind feels right now.
I don’t know what’s wrong or right; I just know I want to feel this love, this greed, this obsession all the way to my bones, because if I don’t … what was the point of it all?
These memories invading my mind and my heart of a boy I once loved, the boy I once played with, the boy I’d do anything for, intermingle with the memories of this man who’s right in front of me, poisoning my mouth and mind with deadly kisses … kisses that will ruin me forever.
But I need them. I need them so badly, like my lungs need the oxygen in this open field, like my skin needs this soil underneath my feet, and like my heart needs the blood pumping through my veins so heavily right now.
I need him.
I need him to take away the pain.
Just one kiss.
One more …
None of them are enough to quench the thirst inside.
His mouth moves down along my chin and my neck, leaving delicious kisses along the way, and my lips part in blissful agony from his teeth sinking into my skin ever so gently. I tilt my head back and gaze up at the darkened sky, wondering if this is what my life will be like from now on—kissing, fucking, eating, sleeping—until our time is up.
A neurotic smile forms on my lips as the clouds above rip open, and droplets start falling down, drip by drip, covering my face and dress.
And still, I don’t care.
His lips are on my skin, covering me in delectable kisses, intoxicating me with the belief that he can fix me. But I know his love is only a temporary drug … one I’ll surely regret submitting to.
“I’ve always wanted you, always loved you,” he says under his breath, pressing his lips against mine while holding my face in the palm of his hands.
“How? How do you know if I left when we were so young?” I ask.
He brushes away tears mixed with rain from my cheeks. “Because we were betrothed. We bonded. We cared for each other. We needed each other. That never changed.”
I swallow back the lump in my throat. I don’t know if that’s real. I don’t know what to believe anymore. But when his kisses continue, and his hands slide down my body, it’s impossible to resist temptation.
“I hate what I had to do,” he murmurs against my skin. “Hate that I had to put you in that position. In that room. All those men.” He grunts, and my eyes widen.
Is this about … the Ceremony?
Suddenly, his hands are on my chest, fingers curling underneath the dress. “I’ll fuck that memory out of your mind.”
RIP!
The dress is split open across my chest, exposing my bra. I squeal from surprise, but the sound goes unnoticed in this vast open area.
“No one will hear you here, Natalie,” he growls, lust settling in his eyes. He grabs my tits and kisses one of them before pushing me to the ground with his
body. “No one will come for you. Or me. No one will watch.” He sits up on top of me and unbuckles his belt. “It’s no one but you and me … and I’m going to set the record straight.”
He rips down his zipper and pants and pulls out his giant, bulging cock. I’ve never had the chance to actually look, not even at the ceremony, and now that I have … I don’t think I’ll ever forget.
I gulp at the sight, and a wicked smile forms on his face.
I don’t want to blush, but my face warms anyway, despite the falling rain.
Sliding his hands up my dress with both hands until my panties are exposed, he then rips those off too. He spreads my legs and pushes the tip against my entrance just before pouncing down on top of me.
“Still afraid?” he murmurs into my ear, then looks at me.
I shake my head, but I don’t know if it’s true or if I’m trying to make him believe it is.
Another devious smile follows.
Suddenly, he grips my wrists and pins them down above my head. Right then, he plunges into me. I rip a howl, and he covers my mouth with his. The kiss is bittersweet as he fucks me hard and relentlessly as if to show me his merciless side.
He’s a greedy son of a bitch who’s fucking a girl in desperate need of salvation, and I let him. I let him because I’m just as needy for his love, for his devotion, for his domination over my body.
“I’m not the first to claim you, but I will be the last,” he growls. “I’ll replace the memories you have of him.”
For a second, I wonder how he knows, but then I remember he saw the scar on my belly.
I don’t want to think about that. I don’t want to remember my past … or my present, or my future. These kisses are all I need to make it go away.
With his hands, Noah forces me to stay on the ground in the dirty soil while he pumps into me hard and unrelenting, his eyes never straying from mine. And with each kiss, I grow headier, filled with uncontrollable lust.
“Yes, let yourself go, Natalie. Let me fuck you into submission,” he growls, pounding harder and harder.
I struggle to breathe, struggle to hold onto anything in my reach. Plucks of grass tickle my thighs, my senses heightening as my muscles begin to tighten, and I grasp at them above my hands, trying so desperately to keep the orgasm at bay.
Under His Rule (Dark Romance Suspense) Page 19