The Prophet (The Cloister Trilogy 2)

She smiles as I pin her hands above her head.

Has a woman’s smile ever intrigued a man more? Not even the Mona Lisa has anything on Delilah at this moment. “Toying with me, little lamb?”

She bats her lashes. “I have to use whatever leverage I have, don’t I?”

I smirk and lower my mouth to her throat, biting hard and then licking my teeth marks. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“We all are,” she whispers.

I kiss to her ear. “Tuesday. There will be violence, blood, and chaos. I need you to stick with me, understand? Don’t put yourself in danger, but stay by my side if you can. We’re getting out of this hell. But we’ll have to pay with blood. Hopefully, not ours.”

“I’m ready.” She kisses my jaw, her soft lips warm against me, then stops.

“What?” I pull back and stare into her impossibly gray eyes.

“I… Need to ask you something.”

Foreboding whips across my soul like a harsh wind. “What?”

“Closer.” She glances toward the vent.

I let go of her hands and wrap my arms around her, pinning her to me. “Ask.”

She’s tense, so different from the playfulness just a moment ago. “Okay, I just need to… Give me a second.” She seems to wrestle with how to continue, her silence unnerving me.

Her breathing speeds up. “Um.” She shifts beneath me.

I sit up and pull her into my lap. Holding her tight, I nestle her head in the crook of my neck. I want her close, and the foreboding from earlier hits me even harder.

Goosebumps pebble her skin, and I whip her blanket up and wrap it around her.

“Thanks.” She lets out a tight breath. “Okay, did you know a…” She clears her throat and blurts out, “Do you know if your father has a book?”

“A book?”

“One that he wrote himself with different sorts of symbols in—”

“Yes, you mean the book.” I wonder who told her about it, but I don’t ask.

“Right. Have you seen it?”

“This is what you wanted to ask me about?” I don’t pretend to understand where she’s going with her questions, but something tells me she’s veering off from her main intent.

“Have you seen it?”

I let her deflect for the moment. “Rarely. He keeps it locked away, and only gets it out for special occasions.” I don’t want to elaborate on the last special occasion. My hands are still covered with blood from it, though no one else can see it but me.

“Is he the only one with access to it?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

I pull her away from my ear and try to find her in the gray of her eyes. “Why are you asking this?”

“I just need to know. Are you sure no one else can…” She lets her words trail off.

I nod and pull her close again. “It’s in his desk in the house in a locked drawer. He has the only key.”

“Have you ever used it? The book, I mean?”

“Used it?” Now I’m even more lost than before. “How would I use a book full of delusional ranting and doodles?”

“To, I don’t know, copy the marks onto something or onto—”

“Someone?” Her question becomes clear. “You want to know who put the markings on Sarah?” I don’t feel like I have the right to say the girl’s name. It’s profane on my lips, as if I’m marring her more than I already have.

“Yes.”

“Only my father touches the book. It would have had to been him.”

“Not you?” I can barely hear her now. “Not ever?”

“Not me. Not ever.” I don’t let her questions sting me. She’s right to ask them. Maybe, if it weren’t for Delilah, I would have been the one to hurt Sarah by carving the marks into her skin. I’ve done so many terrible things that I can’t say for sure one way or the other.

“Good.” She finally lets go of most of her tension, melting into my arms.

“Was that all you wanted to know?” I hold her, not caring what the camera sees. Maybe my father will call me in for being too easy on my Maiden, but I’ll take the punishment.

She hesitates, then wraps her arms around my neck. “That was all.”

My soul settles, though a nagging doubt still rattles around inside me. What was her true question?

When I leave Delilah’s room, Grace is waiting in the hallway, her face pinched.

“What?” I stride past her. My feet have fucking had it for the day, but I’ll be damned if I show any weakness in front of her.

She hurries to follow me into the long hall. “Can you meet me later?”

“The fuck?” I don’t care what she wants. Nothing she says is going to change anything. I just want to get to my place, turn on the video of Delilah, smoke a joint, and fall asleep. None of that includes Grace.

She grabs my elbow, but I shake her off and enter the door code to get out.