by Mia Sheridan
“She?”
“Kandace. She told me about a friend of hers. I think it was you. It had to be you.”
Scarlett’s smile was soft but mildly puzzled. “She did?”
“Yeah. Kandace wanted us to meet. She said she’d arrange it if she could.”
Her eyes softened and she let out a small gust of breath. “I almost don’t want to believe she did because that would mean—"
“I know,” he said gently.
She looked up at him with so much concern, but also trust. “Was it hard for her, Cam? If the girls were treated badly, Kandi would have tried to do something. Oh God. Were they . . . did they—”
“She did do something. She cared. She was the first one who ever did. She took risks.”
“You liked her.” She smiled softly.
“She was the first person, other than Mason and Georgia who saw me. Looked out for me. So, yeah. I liked her.”
“I’m glad, Cam. I’m glad she found you.” Me too. Because that’s what she did. She found me.
He started to withdraw his finger where it still rested on her chin, but instead, brought his hand closer, cupping her cheek. He felt nervous suddenly. Apprehensive, yet also strangely calm. He stared in her gray-blue eyes. Peace. He’d found it there. The old fears fell away, the ones that had never been real yet had lingered all the same. Until now. Until her. “I’m sorry I lied to you,” he said softly. “But the way I feel about you, the things you do to me, Scarlett . . . nothing about that is a lie.”
Her eyes widened, searching his and then she leaned closer into his touch. Her skin felt like warm satin. He stepped forward, so drawn to her, it was as though his body acted before he’d even decided to move. He had been, he realized, from the very first moment he looked at her. Scarlett stepped forward too, tilting her face upward and gazing at him.
Camden’s heartbeat quickened, that electrifying sense Scarlett’s closeness always elicited growing stronger just beneath his skin. It buzzed through his veins, causing every molecule to quicken inside him. It felt good. God, it felt good. He lowered his mouth, brushing it softly against hers. “Do you want this?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I want this. I want you.”
His heart sped, body hardening. He let out a pent-up breath of need. “You’re sure?”
She let out a gentle laugh, but it quickly faded. She brought her hand to his forehead, moving a lock of hair aside. “Yes, I’m very sure,” she said tenderly, obviously understanding why her consent was so vital to him. He’d seen the opposite, portrayed as natural when it was anything but. The trauma still lived within him.
She went up on her tiptoes, kissing his forehead, her lips lingering there. “Take me to bed, Camden.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Camden held her face tenderly in his hands as he came over her, pressing his naked skin to hers. Scarlett stared up at him, mouth parted, eyes wide and searching, so beautiful she stole his breath from his body. He groaned, bringing his mouth to hers, the heat of his hardness pressing against the silken skin of her stomach. He kissed her, slowly, tenderly, their tongues dueling sweetly as her thighs came around his hips. He felt his self-control dwindling and struggled to secure his grasp. She made him feel like liquid inside.
As if she sensed his effort, she broke from his mouth, running a thumb over his bottom lip as she gazed up into his eyes. “Let go,” she said, her voice breathy. “I want you to let go, Camden. Please.”
His heart swelled. This woman. This woman seemed to know him, to read his fear and his struggle. To understand that, for him, sex could hold pitfalls, ambivalence, and doubt. His introduction had been anything but natural. He wanted to find out who he was, to explore his desires, to feel safe enough to do so, known, and that had never been a possibility before now because he’d never shared his secrets with a woman. Instead, he’d struggled along, having a few emotionally unsatisfying experiences before he’d moved back to Farrow, always half there, as though he watched his body from the outside, observing, but never truly participating.
Camden didn’t feel that way now.
He felt intensely present, almost overwhelmingly so. This slender, delicate woman made him weak in the knees and the thought made him want to smile.
Scarlett opened her eyes wide and looked at him, her expression filled with trust. It honored him, that trust. It helped him relax, helped him give in to the lust rising inside him like a tidal wave.
Camden leaned up, looking down where his hand rested on her naked thigh. “A heart,” he said, running his thumb over her birthmark. “It looks like a heart.”
She laughed softly and he raised his head, his lips meeting hers.
He kissed her and it wasn’t tentative, it was wild and warm and wet. Just like those moments spent with her at the stream, everything about it was sweet and right. Her thighs gripped him tightly, bringing their cores closer and the wave rose higher. There was nothing but her, the taste of her on his tongue, the soft scent of her skin. Wildflowers and rain. And God, he wanted to make this good for her too. He wanted this to mean as much to Scarlett as it did to him.
After all, she’d been mistreated as well. She’d been used and lied to. And then abandoned. She deserved to feel cherished.
He’d been taught what was holy and what was not, the idea of unmerciful divinity drummed into him like a gong ringing constantly in his head. Loud. Brutal. But none of those teachings had ever felt true, not in his gut, not in his soul. Because Camden had sat in silence in the shaded woods, listening to the peaceful trickle of water. He’d seen the miraculous unfolding of a brand-new day. He’d held innocent life in his hands and watched as it first floundered, then healed, finally flying away in a rapturous flapping of wings, rising into the open sky. He knew what was holy because his heart had told him, and he had listened to its soft singing.
He felt that holiness now, as this beautiful woman trustingly and wholeheartedly offered him her body—and her heart.
He brought his hand to her breast, teasing the nipple with his thumb until she moaned and arched and breathed his name, his own breath coming ragged and fast. He pulled his mouth from hers, closing his lips around one stiff peak and tugging gently. He was rewarded with a soft cry that made him swell and ache and press against her, seeking relief.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes.”
She writhed beneath him, pressing upward, inviting. Heat burned in his belly, his loins, her hand moving between their bodies, wrapping around his hardness so that he moaned, gasping out a strangled sound of pleasure.
She stroked him slowly, almost languidly, raising her head so she could see her hand on his flesh. He followed suit, watching as she pleasured him, and it was far too much and not nearly enough. “Scarlett,” he groaned, a tortured laugh moving up his throat as he placed his hand over hers and removed her grasp. “Later,” he gritted.
She blinked at him, and then a knowing smile tilted her lips. “Yes,” she murmured, as she parted her legs and guided him inside.
He sucked in a breath at the first wet grasp of her body, their eyes meeting in the dim light. Her lashes fluttered and they stared at each other, the moment so intimate he didn’t know if he could bear it, and yet never wanted it to end.
He began to move, his body demanded it, gliding in and out of her in long fluid thrusts. His head lowered, moving to her breast where he took a nipple in his mouth and began sucking to the rhythm of his hips. He was drowning in her, drowning a slow, sweet death. Scarlett gasped and he felt the pull of her muscles deep within. He could feel her ragged breaths against his neck, hear her tiny mewls of pleasure.
Her desire fueled his and with a groan of surrender, he gave in to the lust, letting it sweep him away, moving faster, pleasure rising. He gritted his teeth, holding himself at the brink until he heard her cry out, her body shuddering around him as he came in long rolling waves of ecstasy.
Camden pulled her with him as he rolled to his back, not willing to let her mo
ve away, their breathing growing quieter as their heartbeats slowed, a smile of joy spreading across his face. Nothing had ever felt more right.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Thirteen Years Ago
Kandace wrapped the towel around her body quickly as Sydney entered the bathroom, yawning. “Morning,” she said sleepily heading to the sink.
“Good morning,” Kandace said, scooting past her so she could dress quickly in the bedroom. Aurora had left a few minutes before, heading down to the dining room. Kandace turned her back to the closed bathroom door, pulling her underwear, bra, and uniform on quickly. Thank goodness the uniform Lilith House made them wear was oversized and unshapely. She was definitely showing and Sydney, who’d been sharing a room for months now and had seen Kandace in various stages of undress, would notice. How could she not? Maybe it was safe to confide in Sydney, but Kandace wasn’t going to take the chance.
Kandace had accepted her pregnancy, accepted the horrific circumstances under which she’d conceived. But it was still so surreal, so impossible, that she could almost pretend it was all just a great big mistake. A false positive or a . . . chemical pregnancy or something like that.
A tiny tap from within caused her to swallow, fear rolling through her.
No, no mistake. She was pregnant and even now, her child was consistently reminding Kandace of his or her existence.
Sydney exited the bathroom as Kandace was slipping her shoes on. “Another joyous day at Lilith House,” she muttered. “At least there’s dessert to look forward to tonight.”
Kandace froze, straightening. “The Guild is coming to the service? I thought that was next week.” She’d thought she had time to come up with a plan . . . some sort of plan. Feign illness perhaps? But no, wouldn’t they want to examine her if she pretended to be suffering from some malady or another? It would be unwise to go anywhere near the infirmary right now.
Sydney nodded as she pulled on her uniform. “Ms. West mentioned it yesterday. I guess they have something else to do next week so they moved it up.” She waved her hand around as though they weren’t the point. It was the trays of dessert that came along with them that meant something.
Oh God. Kandace’s muscles tensed. If one of them chose her, he’d know. They’d all know.
But if no one did, she’d have an opportunity to break back into Ms. Wykes’s office. She had names now. Specific names to search for. Did she dare?
All through the day, Kandace turned the question over in her mind. Do you dare? Do you dare? No one knew she was aware of the sleeping medication in the desserts. She hadn’t even told Aurora. She knew Ms. West hadn’t mentioned speaking to her because no punishment had been forthcoming. Not only that, but Ms. West had given Kandace information. Why would she rat on Kandace, when Kandace could rat on her too?
It was time. It was time to use the information she’d been given. It was time to put things in motion that would result in the closure of Lilith House and hopefully more than several prison sentences. It was time to help the kids in the basement, and to ensure that what was happening now did not continue.
You’re stronger than you think you are.
Kandace pulled in a slow, steady breath. Okay then. It was time for Kandace to prove it.
This was her opportunity and she had to take it. She might not get another.
**********
The men filed in, Kandace’s hands trembling as she clutched the back of the pew in front of her. Please, God, please don’t let me be chosen tonight. Her heart galloped as they went through the motions of the opening prayer, sweat breaking out on her brow when the men stood up to “bless” the girls, their footsteps echoing in her brain like her own death walk. If it was true as she suspected, that one of them had impregnated her while she was drugged and unconscious, she could ruin them all.
And Kandace didn’t think they’d allow that to happen. No, she knew they wouldn’t.
One of the men was moving slowly her way, approaching the end of the aisle where she stood, head bowed, heart pounding wildly, a prayer on her lips, but not directed toward any god Lilith House believed in.
Please, please. Don’t let me be chosen.
An arrow of guilt speared her. Begging God to spare her being chosen meant she was praying for another girl to suffer unknown indignities that she would never even remember. And the fact that she wouldn’t know what happened to her, in Kandace’s mind, made it worse, not better. She pressed her lips together, tears gathering behind her closed lids. She gripped the pew in front of her to disguise the shaking of her hands. She didn’t know what to pray for and so she simply repeated in the quiet of her mind, Help me. Please help me.
No touch came. She let out a controlled breath, attempting to slow her rapid heartbeat. The man moved away, obviously having chosen the classmate next to her—Lucille, the girl who’d been responsible for her “cleansing.” She wanted to feel some measurement of satisfaction, but she didn’t. Couldn’t.
No one deserved what these men were doing to them.
And she understood these girls—their opportunism, their poor judgment, their greed, their lack of empathy, and their jealousy. She was one of them. She’d displayed all of those things too. She was no worse, but she was also no better. She had no right to judge.
Later, Kandace lay in bed, listening to the drugged snores of Aurora and Sydney. She didn’t know if they’d been chosen and so she waited. The house squeaked, quiet footsteps echoing through the walls as girls were carried from their beds. No one climbed the stairs to the attic.
Kandace slid quietly out of bed, keeping her nightgown on as it was the only other clothes she had except for her uniform. She slipped her shoes on and made her way down the rickety set of steps, her muscles tensed at every squeak and creak, praying that if she was heard, it would be assumed that it was one of the men retrieving one of their “blessed ones.” She didn’t think she had to be overly quiet. Tonight, Lilith House was a bevy of activity, and they all believed quiet was unnecessary.
As she slipped around the corner, tiptoeing down the third-floor hallway, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Kandace’s heart lurched and she pulled herself into a doorway, pressing herself against the hard wood, her rounded belly showing past the jamb. She held her breath as a man, carrying a girl, moved from one hallway to another, his head turned in the opposite direction. The girl in his arms looked small and frail and Kandace clapped a hand over her mouth when she saw that it was the young girl who lived in the basement. The one with the dark curls and the hair lip. The one who couldn’t be more than fourteen years old.
Fury dripped through her, making her feel nauseous but what could she do? I’m trying to help you, I swear, she said silently to the unconscious girl. I can’t now, but I will.
“Dreschel,” someone’s voice greeted the man in passing, but out of her line of vision, both of their footsteps—thank God—moving in the other direction. Dreschel. I’ll remember your name. I won’t forget.
When the footsteps had faded, Kandace stepped out of the doorway and raced ahead, slipping down the back stairs, and moving swiftly down the hall, back pressed against the wall, head moving in both directions to ensure no one caught her.
When she’d made it to Ms. Wykes’s office, she pulled the pin from her hair, making the series of moves she’d mastered at this point. She had the door open in seconds. Sweating, her breath coming rapidly, Kandace slipped inside the room, closing the door softly behind her, engaging the lock and exhaling slowly. The Tiffani lamp on Ms. Wykes’s desk was on, the stained-glass shade deep red, green, and blue, casting the office in a somber glow. For several minutes she simply stood there listening, a few creaks and squeaks from above making their way to her ears.
She grabbed the wooden chair near the wall and slipped it under the knob, tilting it so she’d have time to . . . what? What was she going to do if she’d been unknowingly seen and Ms. Wykes and Jasper showed up again? She had no escape. The most she could do
was find a weapon . . . her eyes darted around . . . the paperweight on the desk, or the pointy umbrella in the stand near the door. This time, she’d at least go down swinging.
Kandace rushed to the file cabinets, picking the lock of the first cabinet, and quietly pulling the drawer open. She rifled through the files, finding the first name in her memory, a surge of excitement causing her to inhale sharply as she pulled it from the drawer. She quickly found the second and third, moving to Ms. Wykes’s desk where she opened the first folder and gazed at the picture of the pretty young woman. God, she looked just like Dreamboat with those soulful eyes and full lips. Something caught in her throat and she swallowed it down, using her finger to quickly scan through her information. She’d been from New Jersey . . . Camden, New Jersey . . . Kandace scanned the page finding only basic information, but when she flipped the first page over, she let out a soft, “Oh.” She’d shown up pregnant. They’d contacted her family and they had requested that Lilith House facilitate an adoption. Shown up pregnant. Like Kandace had “shown up pregnant”? Kandace turned the page. God, her chest hurt. This girl who looked no older than sixteen had given birth at Lilith House under the medical care of Dr. Bill Woodrow. Her eyes scanned the sloppy writing, pulling out the words that told the story of what turned into a traumatic birth. Shoulder dystocia . . . lack of oxygen . . .
Was that it then? They’d believed Dreamboat to be mentally impaired? He wasn’t . . . though she supposed by the time they were able to ascertain that, his life had already been decided.
Kandace exhaled, closing the file and opening the next one. This girl appeared about the same age. Same story, she’d been pregnant when she arrived, Lilith House had been in charge of facilitating the adoption of the unwanted child. Birth presided over by Dr. Bill Woodrow, the baby girl born with a cleft palate. Georgia, her mother had been from Georgia.