by Celia Aaron
I whimper when he thrusts, his hard cock pressing against me in the most delicious way, only his jeans separating us. “I want you,” I breathe when he breaks the kiss and moves to my neck, kissing and biting.
“We can’t.” He moves lower and captures a nipple in his mouth, lashing the tip with his tongue as he kneads my other breast.
Each touch sends a jolt of heat spiraling between my thighs, and desire, thicker than honey, pours over me. “Please.” I dig my hands in his hair, squeezing the strands as he kisses lower. “I want to taste you.”
He groans against my stomach, then rolls over onto his back, pulling me with him. “Sit on my face.” With rough hands, he positions me until I’m straddling him, my knees on either side of his shoulders, my face even with his waist. When he licks, I jolt. I want to say his name, but nothing passes my lips except a hard exhale. His tongue comes again, and I burn with need. Scrabbling at his jeans, I free his cock and lick the tip, the wetness salty on my tongue.
I take him as far into my mouth as I can, eager to please and be pleased. When he presses his mouth to me and pulls me down onto his face, I moan around his thick cock, then suck his head. He doesn’t let up, his fingertips pressing into my hips, forcing me to sit right on top of him as his mouth takes over.
My arousal twists tighter and tighter as I try to focus on him. Bobbing up and down, sucking and licking, I use one hand at his base, working it in tandem with my mouth. His hips rock up to meet me, and he matches my rhythm. When he presses his tongue inside me, my thighs shudder and I stop sucking. I want more. I want all of him inside me. Maybe it will make us whole again, hold us together despite the ground fracturing beneath our feet.
“Please.” I kiss down the side of his cock then drag my tongue back up. “Please,” I whimper again.
“Fuck,” he grates out, then pushes me off him.
In a quick blur of movement, he’s behind me, his hands on my ass. “Spread for me.”
On my knees, I scoot them out, and he rubs his wet cock head up and down my slick skin.
He drags his fingers along one of the belt lines. “I hate his marks on you.”
“I hate them, too.”
Bending over, he bites my ear. “We have to make it look like I’m reaming your sweet little ass.”
I know he’s taking an even bigger risk, but I can’t go another second without him inside me—that bond that I only share with him.
He positions his cock and pushes forward. I grip the sheets and let my head drop, hanging between my shoulders. Sliding farther, my wetness urging him onward, he seats himself inside me. I curl my toes and let out a hard breath. So full but needing more, I move forward and then press back into him.
“Fuck.” He groans and bites my upper back. When he pulls out again, he slams home. He doesn’t hold back, fucking me hard, destroying and rebuilding me with each impact. I bury my face in the pillow, crying out my pleasure as he reaches around me, his fingers playing my clit.
My breaths come in short bursts, everything inside me tightening around the single point that his fingers stroke. He’s relentless, his cock filling me perfectly, his sweat-slicked skin slapping against mine. I press my forehead into the pillow and use my hands on the headboard to push back.
He groans and slams me harder, my resistance spurring him faster. I love every hit, the sounds, the sweat, being full of Adam.
“I can’t—” I don’t know what words I was going to say next, but my orgasm rushes at me in a blinding haze. It hits me from nowhere and everywhere, my body folding in and expanding outward on a streaking blaze of pleasure. Waves roll over me, and I can barely breathe. My hips lock, my breath stops, and all I can feel is him—us. Nothing exists outside of us.
He slams hard a few more times, then pulls out. His come coats my ass, the warm spurts strong, his grunts tortured and erotic. My legs slide apart farther, and I lie all the way on the bed. He lets up on my hip, his palm massaging the spot where he’d been squeezing.
I want to tell him I love him. I can’t. Not here. Not now. It isn’t safe. Down from the high, I realize this was a mistake. What if he gets caught? Fear filters through, and I turn to look at him.
He gives me a crisp nod and steps off the bed. With a hobbling gait that raises plenty of questions in my mind, he goes into the en suite and returns with a washcloth. He silently cleans me off, then lies next to me.
I throw the sheet over us and snuggle up to him. After several long beats of silence, my breathing returns to normal, and I feel the danger in the air. It coats everything like soot. We shouldn’t have done this.
“Are you all right?” He tucks my hair behind my ear.
“Me? What’s wrong with your feet?”
His gaze flickers to my lips. “Does it matter? We only have a little time left.”
“Yes, it matters.” I lean in and bite his ear. “Tell me.”
He slides one hand down to my hip, squeezing. “It’s not a big thing. I just … I just lost a couple of toes to frostbite.”
I wince. He suffered to save me, to keep me out of Evan’s clutches, and he’s paid so dearly. I close my eyes and nuzzle against his neck. “I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t really need them. They were sort of extra anyway, right? You just won’t be able to do ‘This Little Piggy’ on me like you’ve dreamed about.” He kisses my crown, and I smile at his ridiculous words. His sense of humor hides behind a scornful exterior, but it’s there—warm and rich. I wish there was more time for us so I could explore all his nooks and crannies, the facets that make up his personality.
His kiss lingers. “You have to go soon, but I need you to know some things. Stay away from the church service on Sunday. Shit will be going down. Can you do that?”
My heart sinks into an acid vat, bubbling and blistering as he tries to warn me away from a destiny that’s already written in stone. “I have to be there.”
“Why?”
I clutch him closer to me, afraid of losing him, afraid of so much. But I can’t lie. Not now. “Because I’m supposed to marry the senator at the service that day.”
He pulls me away from him, his dark eyes burning into me. “You can’t marry him.”
I shake my head, my eyes watering again. “I have to.”
“No.” He grips my arms. “No way.”
“I don’t have any other choice. The Prophet has my mom. I can’t fight this place from within. I have to do it from outside. Maybe if I can convince Evan—”
“Convince him of what?” His voice is tight, and he’s straining to keep it down. “He’s not someone that can be reasoned with.”
“I have to try. It’s my only chance to stop the Prophet. I’m going to use Evan, to turn him against Heavenly.”
“How do you intend to sway him, Emily?” Fire rages in his eyes, his body tense. “What are you going to use to do that?”
Shame flames in my cheeks, but I tell him the truth. “I’ll have to give him what he wants.”
He presses his forehead to mine, his hands clutching me close. “He wants you, Emily. He wants to break you in half and suck out your fucking marrow. That’s the kind of man he is.”
“I know.” My voice shakes. “But it’s the only way.”
“No.”
“It’s already decided. It’s over, Adam.” I press my palm to his cheek. “I’m marrying him on Sunday. And I’ll do what I have to do to turn him to our side.”
“I’ll die before I let you go to him.” He grits his teeth.
“I want you alive.” Tears slide across the bridge of my nose. “Away from here. You deserve so much more than this life. You deserve love, a family, a place to call your own.”
“I only want those things with you.” He puts his hand over mine. “I love you.”
Everything inside me tears apart at his solemn words. I want him so badly, and I want the life I described. The two of us, free from the Prophet’s web. But it can’t happen. We were doomed from the moment we saw each other. N
othing can flourish under the Prophet’s harsh sun.
“I love you, too.” I let the words spill out. Freeing, yet somehow a prison.
Those words tie us to each other, even when we’re about to be ripped apart. He pulls me into his arms, crushing me to him. I feel his brand on my heart, scorching my soul. Letting him go is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I have to. It’s the only chance I have to save him.
“I won’t let this happen,” he whispers in my ear. “I love you too much. It won’t happen.”
It’s already done. I hold onto him, wishing our love could stop the inevitable.
A faint knock at the bathroom door shatters the quiet.
“Fuck.” He kisses my forehead, down my nose, and to my lips. “It’s time.”
I kiss him with all the heart I have left, and I hope he feels my seal on his heart, my promise that I will always love him, no matter what happens. It’s all I can give. And I offer myself to him freely. His little lamb. I will gladly sacrifice myself to save him, to give him a future, and to watch Heavenly burn.
Chapter 20
Grace
Night cloaks me as I creep into the main house and hurry to the metal door in the basement. Castro waits inside, the tip of his cigarette glowing orange in the dark.
“What?” He leans against the wall, nonchalant even though his greatest enemy is just above us. If we were caught down here, the Prophet would kill us both.
I stand next to him, so close I can smell the stale cigar smoke in his dark hair. “Noah took Adam. He’s no longer at the Chapel.”
He glances at me. “How do you know?”
“Noah told me.”
“Why?”
“He needed a favor.” My blood boils at what I had to give up just to get this information. That whore Delilah spending time at Noah’s house. I have no doubt she warmed Adam’s bed, spread her legs and gave him whatever he wanted. That’s all she has to offer anyone—her freak pussy.
“Anything else?”
I nod. “The Chapel traitors are planning something for Sunday. I don’t know what, but it could interfere with our plans.”
“We’re moving forward no matter what. The time has come. The Father of Fire has told her—” he glances at the ceiling, as if he can see Rachel through the timbers. “The time is now, and it must happen on a holy day. This Sunday. What have you heard about the Chapel whores?”
“Nothing specific, but Chastity has been visiting more frequently.” I shake my head. “She thinks I don’t know. What a twit. Of course I know. She even chanced a visit to the Cathedral two days ago to speak with Ruth. It’s something big. I can feel it.”
“Should I pop them now and bring them to the Prophet?”
“I don’t think so. Ask her, of course. She knows best.” I feign deference to Rachel. I’m on her team, sure. But I could never bow to a woman. It goes against God’s law. Once Adam is firmly on the throne, I’ll convince him to get rid of her and this jumped-up wetback. “But it could play in our favor.”
He shrugs. “I’m fine with letting them stage their little rebellion. It’ll be more fun to shoot them down than get rid of them quietly.”
I don’t know. Seeing them swing from ropes or hang on crosses sounds like justice to me, but it’s six one way, half a dozen the other. They’re a problem that must be dealt with once Adam is Prophet. We’ll use them—either as a distraction or a scapegoat—until the time is right.
“Anything else?” He tosses his cigarette onto the concrete floor and crushes it with the sole of his boot.
My gaze wanders deeper into the room to the spot where Adam cradled his dying Faith. A chill creeps through my bones. Is she here, watching me? Judging me? I wish she were still alive. Then Adam wouldn’t hate me. If it weren’t for Faith, Adam and I would still be together, maybe already ruling over Heavenly. But that child ruined it all. I should have gotten rid of her at the first sign, but I didn’t. I foolishly thought a child would bring us closer together. Stupid.
“Grace?” Castro has been speaking to me.
“Apologies. I missed it. What?”
“Do you have anything else?” His impatience riles me. Though he’s a man, he doesn’t hold any sway over me. Not with his dark skin and questionable heritage.
“Just one thing. Sunday. I want Delilah dead. She has to be a casualty. Otherwise, she threatens Rachel’s plan. That freak is able to turn Adam’s head, and she’ll lead him away from Heavenly’s future glory. She has to go.”
He shrugs. “Not a problem. I’ll handle it.” Launching off the wall, he strides past me.
The same chill creeps down my spine, and my gaze returns to the spot where Faith died. I straighten my back. She can haunt me all she wants. It doesn’t matter. I’m still alive, and I intend to stay that way. She’s just dust, and I won’t let her separate me from Adam any longer.
Chapter 21
Adam
Emily sits on her bed. Head down, eyes closed, as if she’s praying. Does she pray? I assume she doesn’t believe in God, not after what she’s seen here. The small screen flickers. I pop the side of it with the heel of my palm, and it evens out again. Noah ran the cords for it down the hall from his bedroom, under my door, and to a small monitor he set up on the dresser next to Gregory’s terrarium.
Saturday morning means she should be in class with the rest of the Maidens. But she’s alone, her fingers twining with each other, her mind troubled. But there’s no way to soothe her from here. Besides, what would I say? She’s set on her path, even though I’m going to block it, saving her in the process.
“He’s here.” Noah speaks through the door. I didn’t hear him come down the hall.
“Bring him up.” I flick off the television and sit up in bed. Looking weak isn’t an option.
Noah retreats, and I whip the blanket over my feet, hiding the bandages around my missing toes. I can’t do anything about my hands, but he’ll already know those are fucked.
Footsteps on the stairs, and then Noah opens my door. Castro enters first, his head on a swivel as he surveys the room. When he’s satisfied no one’s going to jump out from a corner, he rests his gaze on me.
“Sad to see you’re still alive, pendejo.” He doesn’t need to spit for me to feel the disdain rolling off him.
Like I give a shit. If this motherfucker makes it past Sunday service, it’ll only be because I’m dead. “Say what you came to say and then get the fuck out.”
He glowers. “I should turn you in to your father.”
“Go right ahead.” I let out a bored sigh. “See how Mom feels about that.”
His eyebrows pinch, but he doesn’t continue down that road. No point. Mom may be far more ruthless than I’d ever imagined, but she doesn’t want me crucified. I’m part of her grand scheme, after all. Besides, she’s known that I’m here ever since Noah made the deal with Grace to get Emily to his house for my visit. A costly quid pro quo, but worth it. And if Mom hasn’t spilled by now, she isn’t going to.
“Your mother has been told that this Sunday is the day. The Father of Fire will crown you Prophet once the old one is destroyed. You need to be ready to do what needs to be done.”
“And what’s that?” As if there wasn’t enough already riding on Sunday. Fuck.
“Take your father’s place—that you don’t deserve.” He’s quick to add that last part. “And follow your mother’s direction for the future of Heavenly. After the transition is complete, you have to deal with the whores. All of them.”
Noah leans against the doorframe, his head cocked to the side. “Which whores are we talking about? Dad seems to refer to all the women here like that without any distinction.”
“All of them,” Castro says. “No more Cloister. No more Chapel. And we’ll have to raze the Cathedral and all within it. It shouldn’t be difficult. A fire would take care of it. Bar the doors and burn it down.”
Noah looks past him to me. “Why do I get the feeling he means ‘bar the doors’ to kee
p the women and children inside?”
“Because that’s exactly what he means.” The cold bastard has bought into my mother’s vengeful scheme and intends to see it through to its bloody end. I didn’t think I could hate him more. But I do.
Castro nods. “None of the people there are on the grid anymore. They’ll just disappear. Some of the Maidens we’ll have to keep—make them Spinners to serve Rachel and yourself. Some will have to burn for the Father of Fire in gratitude.”
“And the Chapel girls?” Noah’s eyes are wide to an almost comical degree. But nothing about any of this is funny.
Castro shrugs. “They can’t leave the compound. We can either lock them in the Cathedral or do it some other way. Waste a few bullets on them for target practice, I guess.”
Noah stuffs his hands in his pockets. “So, let me see if I’m following here—you want to murder most of the women and all the children on the compound?”
“It’s God’s will.” Castro stares at me. “And it will be done at the order of the new Prophet. Understand?”
“What?” I smirk. “Mom is too shy to order the genocide?”
“You are the new head. You will follow her lead, but she will remain invisible. Much the way she is now.” He almost smiles, his lips twitching. “And I’ll be your second, though I answer only to Rachel.”
“Sounds like a shitty second.” I lean my head back, doing my best to remain nonchalant while Castro calmly explains all the terrors my mother has planned. “So, how’s Sunday going to go down?”
“All you have to do is be there. Get into the crowd somehow without a Protector seeing you. I’ll handle the rest.”
“No offense, Castro.” Noah pauses, then reconsiders. “Actually, all the offense. You’re a low life foot soldier with no clue what you’ve gotten yourself into. So why should we trust that you’re able to do anything to stop the Prophet?”