by Celia Aaron
“Am the new Prophet?” My skin goes cold.
“God, no. Just a preacher. Someone the people are familiar with. I’m supposed to defuse the whole situation, fill the power vacuum to prevent anyone else from trying to take my father’s place and get things going again.”
“What do you get in return?”
“Freedom. For me and Adam. And for the women.”
I don’t trust any deal offered by Zion, but if it keeps Adam and Noah out of prison, maybe it could work. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to think about it. He wants me to preach this coming Sunday. I don’t know if I can.”
“We’ll talk about it. Once Adam is better.”
“Yeah.” He wheels me slowly toward the end of the hall, then stops in front of one of the rooms. “Hang on. Let me make sure he’s decent.”
That gets a real laugh out of me.
He disappears into the room with even more beeping machines than the others. “Emily is here to… what does that motion even mean… okay, I know what that motion means, and it’s uncalled for, man. I’m bringing her. Hang on.”
The sound of a chair scraping along the floor grates across my impatient nerves. Adam is only feet away. I need to see him, feel him, assure myself that he’s going to be all right.
Noah finally emerges from the room and wheels me in head first. I roll over onto my side as Adam comes into view.
His face is swollen and white gauze is packed around the right side of his throat. He attempts a smile but it dies quickly.
“He can’t talk yet.” Noah scoots my bed until it clangs against Adam’s.
He reaches for me. I leverage myself over despite the pain in my back and hand.
“Hang on. Give me a minute, you two!” Noah moves around behind me and lifts me until I’m right beside Adam.
I put my hand to his stubbled cheek and brush my lips across his. “I love you.”
He grips my waist, love showing in his eyes as he stares at me as if there’s nothing else in the world.
“I guess, um. I’ll just… Yeah, I’m gone.” Noah leaves and pulls the flimsy curtain to hide us from the rest of the ward.
“You’re going to be okay.” I kiss the tip of his nose.
He gently grabs my wrist and squeezes, then glances down my body and arches an eyebrow.
“I’m going to be fine. Don’t worry. The hand will heal, and so will my back.” I drop my gaze. “But I’ll have scars.”
He tilts my chin up until our eyes lock, then smiles a little and shakes his head.
“Oh, you don’t care?”
He shakes his head again, then holds out his bandaged hands and wrinkles his nose.
“I guess you’re scarred too, huh?”
He nods.
“And at least I have all my toes, right?”
He makes a low growly noise and pulls me tight to him, his hand easing beneath the hospital gown and caressing my hip. Goosebumps rise all over me, and I rest my head on his chest.
“I love you,” I whisper again.
He squeezes my hip and kisses my forehead, his warm lips a balm on my heart.
His throat clicks, his body tensing with effort. “Never let you go, little lamb.” The words are barely a rough whisper, but they send a tingle through me all the same.
I smile against his chest, safe in his arms, forever in his heart.
Epilogue
Emily
Adam holds my hand tightly in his as we sit outside the church in a black limo, the back windows hiding us from the churchgoers brave enough to come back for this Sunday’s service. Plainclothes officers stand in front of the main doors, and plenty are scattered throughout the sanctuary. But I don’t feel safe here. I don’t think I ever will.
Noah pulls his flask out, drains some of it, then offers it to Adam and me. We both shake our heads.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” Adam’s voice is still coarse, as if there’s glass in his throat. But the doctors say he’ll heal. But, like me, there will be scars.
“Yeah, well, keep on meaning to, because today is not the day I stop drinking.” He looks out the window and tugs at his collar. “Did I really have to wear a tie?”
“You’re the preacher. You kind of have to. Besides, you both look so handsome.” I try to force a smile.
Noah grimaces.
Adam grips my hand a little tighter.
“You know the plan. It’s all been loaded onto the teleprompter. Easy.” Zion is our driver for the day, though my mistrust still sends alarm bells ringing whenever I’m around him. “Just get it done, and the immunity is set. And, if you choose to stay on—”
“No.” Noah shakes his head.
Zion straightens his sunglasses. “The federal government isn’t in the habit of telling religious institutions how to conduct their business, but if you could just think about staying on for a little while longer, until things settle, that would—”
“He said no.” I glare at Zion in the rearview mirror.
He nods and finally shuts his mouth.
Adam leans over and whispers in my ear, “You look beautiful.”
He’s only told me three times so far today, and I blush each time. He and Noah are wearing conservative suits, but Adam threw a growly fit when I tried to choose a simple navy blue dress for today.
“You can wear any color under the sun. No hiding. Shine like you’re supposed to.” His eyes light and send heat rushing through me. I want to feel him so badly, but he still hasn’t recovered enough for us to make love. We’ll be there soon.
“Emily?” Noah’s opened the car door and holds his hand out for me.
“I got it.” Adam opens the door on his side and helps me up.
“Dick.” Noah smirks over the roof of the car.
Adam wraps a protective arm around me as Zion and Davis walk us into the church. A host of media has set up on the grass to the right of the entrance, their cameras clicking and video rolling. A few journalists shout questions about the “atrocities” and “legacy of the Monroe family,” but we keep our heads down and rush inside the church.
Zion, his sunglasses still on, leads us back into the hallway of classrooms and to the stage door. When he opens it, so much rushes back to me that I have to stop.
“It’s okay.” Adam pulls me in tight to his side. “If you can’t do this, no one will blame you.”
I take a deep breath and shake the ghosts away. They aren’t here. No Prophet, no Rachel, no Grace. There’s only a stage—wood floor, concrete walls, wide open space. I climb the stairs and look out toward the open where the stage lights shine brightest. No Maidens kneel along the front row, no children wearing white, no Heavenly PD officers. Only more plainclothes FBI agents directing people to their seats and standing across the way in the other wing.
“You’re safe. I’ve got guys all over this place. No one is coming at you. And everyone was searched upon entry.” Zion stands with his hands behind his back. Likely his best attempt at being reassuring—but it falls flat. I’ll never see him as anything other than a Protector.
Adam turns me away from Zion, both of us facing the stage. “You really are safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you. You know that, right?”
“I do.” I take a deep breath as a recorded hymn, “Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus,” plays over the sound system. Noah mutters to himself, practicing despite the teleprompter, “Unity, love, acceptance, healing, compassion for others…”
Adam doesn’t leave my side. “We can go anytime. The deal is for Noah. Not you. You don’t have to speak if you don’t want to.”
I push up on my tiptoes and kiss his clean-shaven face. “I love you.”
He closes his eyes, as if relishing the words. “Every time you say that, it’s hard to believe. But, because you’re the one saying it, I always believe.” His dark eyes find me again, and just like that, he takes my breath away in a kiss. He slides his hands down to my waist as his tongue strokes mine, his
mouth perfect against me.
Noah clears his throat.
We ignore him, and I rest my hands on Adam’s shoulders as he pulls me tight to his chest. I could get lost in his kiss. Forget where we are, ignore the pain and the loss this place embodies, but he lets me go.
“I don’t care what the doctors say, little lamb.” He drops one more kiss on my lips. “Tonight, you’re mine.”
I tingle all over and drop back down to my heels.
“Get a room, sheesh.” Noah shakes his head, but he can’t hide his grin.
“Emily, whenever you’re ready.” Zion stands with his arms crossed and looks out at the audience. The church is half full, the rest possibly watching on the Heavenly channel from their homes. Or maybe they’re shunning any association with the church, pretending that the Prophet never swayed their souls toward damnation.
“You can do this.” Adam squeezes my hand one more time and steps back, his eyes never leaving me.
“Miss Lanier.” An agent hands me a microphone and shows me how to turn it on.
I take a deep breath, then walk out onstage. The lights are blinding, and I can’t see the crowd anymore. My remarks aren’t scripted, so the teleprompter only shows the beginning of Noah’s prepared speech. Looking up, I see myself on the huge screens along the upper auditorium. My dress—peacock blue with an empire waist and a hem that falls above my knee—flatters my too-thin frame and hides the bandages I still wear over my cuts.
Stopping on a black x toward the front, I flip on the microphone and bring it up. Can I do this? I take a deep breath and, to my surprise, the words flow.
“Once upon a time, I had a sister.” My voice is loud and bright through the speakers. “Her name was Georgia. She was the most beautiful soul I’ve ever met. Smart, funny, brave. She was everything I wished I could be.” Emotion threatens to stifle me, but I set it aside for now. For now, I have to speak my truth in a way that these people will hear it. “But then she joined the Cloister. And she died because of it. When I couldn’t get answers, I joined the Cloister to find out why she was taken from me. Even though I knew exactly what the Cloister was. Some of you knew, too.” I clear my throat. “But I’m not here to accuse or judge, I’m here to testify about what happened to Georgia, what happened to me, and how we can all change the future so as not to make the mistakes of the past.”
I glance at Adam. He stands rapt, his gaze on me, pride in his eyes. And he gives me the strength to go on, to tell about the abuse, about the friends I made and lost, and above all, about the love I found and will keep in my heart for the rest of my life.
***
“I can say for a fact that was the best sermon I ever heard at Heavenly.” Davis meets us in the lobby of our downtown Birmingham hotel. “And the improv parts, damn. You sure you can’t be persuaded to stay—”
“I need a drink.” Noah peels off and beelines for the hotel bar.
Davis curses under his breath.
“Lay off him.” Adam keeps walking, his limp still there but less pronounced. He impatiently pulls me with him, and a shiver shoots to my toes because I know why.
The din outside wafts into the lobby whenever the door opens—media and zealots vying for attention in front of the hotel. We haven’t given interviews, and we won’t. Reliving it at the church was enough for me, and the nightmares haven’t stopped. Maybe they never will.
Davis hurries to catch up. “We still need to talk about your plans. Where the two of you will go, what to do about Emily’s mother. We’ll need you to be available for the trials. There’s planning that needs to—”
Adam jabs the elevator button and turns to Davis. “Step the fuck away.”
Davis hesitates. “I—”
“Let me rephrase.” Adam’s voice, already hoarse, lowers to deadly levels. “Step the fuck away or I’ll beat your ass the same way I did at the compound.”
Davis glowers but moves away. “This conversation isn’t over.”
Adam turns his back on him. As in, the conversation is definitely over.
The elevator opens and we step on. Adam stabs the “door close” button until I think he may break a finger.
I slide my palm down the front of his suit. “We are going to have to talk to him at some point.”
“Not now.”
When the doors finally close, he backs me against the elevator’s side wall. “Do you have any idea how proud I am of you?”
My heart falls all over itself, but I give a little shrug. “You told me a few times.”
“Not enough.” He runs a hand through my hair. “Not nearly enough.” Though I expect it, his kiss still sends shockwaves through me. His mouth pressing against mine, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips. I open for him, and he groans, his hands tangled in my hair as the elevator slowly rises to our floor.
When the door opens, he pulls away and grabs my hand, hurrying to our room.
He reaches in his pocket for the key card, but his fine motor skills aren’t there yet. I reach in and grab it for him, then swipe it through the lock. Anticipation buzzes through me like a drug.
When the light turns green and the lock clicks over, he shoves the door open and pulls me inside. He shoves me against the hotel room wall, his body pressing into mine as his mouth takes over again, kissing and caressing, his hands roving my body. I wrap my arms around his neck, standing on my tiptoes, my body lengthened and feeling every bit of contact from him.
He pushes his thigh between my legs, my skirt giving just enough for him to press against my most sensitive spot. I moan and my toes curl.
“Fuck.” He breaks our kiss and scoops me up in his arms, though he’s careful of the still-stitched area across my upper back.
Carrying me to the bed, he sets me on my feet and turns me around. Though it takes a few tries, he gets my dress unzipped. It pools around my ankles. His fingers start at my shoulders, touching every bit of bare skin with something verging on reverence. His lips follow, tracing a path that raises goosebumps and makes my stomach clench.
I want this. I want him so badly. But when I close my eyes, I see the walls of my room at the Cloister, hear the screams from the other Maidens. My breathing speeds up.
“Hey.” He turns me around to face him, his dark eyes filled with concern. “What’s going on up here?” He draws his fingertips along my temple.
Tears prickle behind my eyes. “I think maybe I’m messed up now. Because of what happened,” I whisper my biggest fears, safe in the knowledge that he, above all others, will understand. “I don’t want to think of that place when we’re together. I want it to be new, clean. Just you and me.”
He kisses me gently. “It’s just you and me. No one but us. The door behind me? You can open it and leave whenever you want. You are free.” He strokes my cheek. “Though I can’t promise I won’t follow. You may not have noticed, but I can’t be without you. I love you.”
I take a deep breath and let it out. He’s telling the truth. I am free. There’s no one watching, no ulterior motives at play. It’s just us, and all those ghosts that still haunt me can’t fit in the space between us. I won’t let them.
It’s a leap of faith—a sign of my trust—when I kiss him. He rests his hands at my waist, his thumbs teasing my hip bones. I swipe my tongue inside his mouth, and he lets me take the lead. My fingers go to the knot of his tie, undoing it and sliding it to the ground. Then I work on his buttons as his hands grip a little tighter, his heart beating faster against my hand. He’s trying to keep himself reined in. I smile against him, enjoying what has turned into a wicked tease.
I strip his shirt off, my hands easing down his hard chest to his chiseled waist. When I grab his belt buckle, he groans into my mouth and smooths his hands up until he’s unclasping my bra. The whole time, our tongues are seeking and caressing, our breaths coming faster and faster. The tightness in my stomach only increases, and I know my panties are wet.
He slides off my bra as I undo his pants and let them fall to the
floor.
“No underwear?” I stare at his hard cock, the smooth skin and rounded tip.
He shrugs, then jerks as I run my finger along the side of it.
Breaking our kiss, he drops to his knees and presses his nose against my mound. Looking up, his eyes half-lidded, he asks, “May I?”
My nipples ache, and I think I might combust, but I nod.
He pulls my panties down, then spreads his palm across my stomach, gently pushing me back until I’m sitting on the bed. Spreading my legs, he nuzzles against my soft flesh, and tingles shoot through me.
“I want to please you, little lamb. To show you I’m worthy.” He kisses me, his tongue darting against my clit.
I grip the bedspread.
He presses his mouth against me, opening wide as his tongue sweeps from bottom to top. I moan and spread my legs wider.
He takes the invitation and presses his tongue inside me, his palms pushing my legs open as he devours me. I stare down at him, his dark hair falling across his forehead, his strong back tense as he pleasures me with his tongue. I run one hand through his hair, pulling him closer, guiding him to my clit. He flicks his tongue across it, and my legs shake. Then he seizes on it, pinching it lightly between his teeth before running the broad side of his tongue against it again and again. He speeds his pace, each lick a flame adding to the fire burning inside me.
Sliding one hand up my thigh, he presses a finger inside me.
I arch, my head thrown back as my hips move against him, following his rhythm. He adds another finger, pulsing them inside me, stroking me in tandem with his tongue. My legs begin to shake, my hips seizing. I’m on the edge, ready to fall over, to give myself to the pleasure only Adam can provide.
He curls his fingers inside me, and I fall. He licks the orgasm out of me, my body seizing around his fingers, squeezing and shooting sparks of release all over my body. I moan low and deep, relishing in each wave of delicious bliss. He groans against me, his low rumble sending me into another series of crashing pleasure. I fall backwards, my body limp, the last aftershocks making my legs jerk as he licks me a few more times.