The Prophet (The Cloister Trilogy 2)

Once she’s done with me, I head to the dining room and take care to sit away from the other Maidens. No one else needs to suffer because of me. I’m halfway through what Abigail calls a “salad”—just lettuce with carrots and no dressing—when Grace walks in and points at me.

Damn. I can’t seem to catch a break. I rise and follow her into the hallway.

“Go dress in your room. The senator has returned early and is here to claim you.”

I must have misheard. That’s the only explanation. “That’s not right.”

“Go.” She crosses her arms over her stomach, a feline smile on her lips. “He’ll want to fuck you as soon as he gets his hands on you, I’m sure. There’ll be so much blood.” She claps like she just heard a juicy secret.

My stomach drops as reality caves in around me. “It’s only Saturday. He’s not supposed to be here till—”

“Go change.” She bites out the words and shoves me toward the dormitories.

Hot tears well in my eyes as I walk down the corridor. It’s over. My search for Georgia, my time with Adam. All over, and nothing to stop it.

“Hurry up.” Grace stands at the dormitory entrance. “I can’t wait to be rid of you.”

Tears overflow and run down my cheeks as I sag against my door. No one can save me from this—not Adam and not me. I’m trapped. I have no doubt Evan has some horrible things planned for me the second he gets me alone.

Everything Adam planned for Tuesday—even if he goes through with it, it’ll be too late for me. A wail rockets up from my lungs, and I press my forehead against the door.

“While this is entertaining, you’re wasting my time.” Grace slams her baton into the door next to my head. “Go.”

I turn and scream at her. “Can you just be a human for two fucking seconds?”

She jabs the baton into my stomach, and I double over.

“Take that as a little parting gift from me to you, you albino piece of trash,” she hisses next to my ear, then shoves me against the door. “Go, before I hit you again.”

I straighten up, the pain in my gut radiating through my abdomen. Coughing, I turn the knob and hobble away from her, closing the door behind me.

My eyes widen as Adam strides from the bathroom with a wooden chair in his hand and flips the lock over.

“What’s wrong?” He furrows his brow. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I…” I straighten, the pain lessening as my confusion increases. “What are you doing?”

He wedges the chair under the door handle. “On the bed. Fast.”

“What’s going on? Grace said—” My throat closes up, a sob threatening, but I force the words out. “She said the senator is here for me.”

“I’ve thought all night—all fucking night—of some way out of this. I only found one. This is my only choice.” His steely determination tells me it’s a bad choice, the outcomes unimaginable.

I have to stop this. All of it. My mind screams that there has to be some other way, but my heart sinks deeper into despair. “Adam.”

“Take the dress off.” He strips his shirt over his head.

“Adam.” I press my hand to his warm chest. “What are you doing?”

“Saving you.” He unfastens his belt and his jeans. “Hurry.”

Everything becomes clear. He wants to make it official, to claim me and spoil me for any other man. That’s how this fucked up world works—my only worth between my thighs—and he’s playing the only card he has left. Ruining me to save me.

The thing is, he already ruined me for anyone else the moment he chose me at the bonfire.

“If you do this, what will happen to you?” I pull my dress over my head and toss it to the floor.

He shucks his jeans, his cock hard and ready. “I don’t care. I just need them to see it, to know I’ve taken it.”

“It was always yours.” I kiss him, and he lifts me up and carries me to the bed. His mouth is rough, the urgency making him even more aggressive. I melt for him even now—even when what we’re about to do may be a death sentence for both of us.

He prowls between my legs and takes a handful of my hair. “This is going to hurt.”

“Wait.” I shake my head. “What will they do to you? You have to tell me.”

“I don’t know.” He kisses me again, hard and full of so much emotion that I’m overwhelmed and cling to him.

I force my mouth away from his. “I don’t want to do this if it means they’ll kill you. Will they?”

“I’d rather die than let you go to him.” He presses his forehead to mine. “He bragged about what he intends for you. I heard every word the last time he was here. I won’t let you go through that.”