Under His Rule (His 1)

I stand and watch from a distance, hoping this’ll go by quickly and without a lot of ruckus.

“Natalie? Oh my … Nat!” It’s Emmy, and she’s coming straight toward me, waving at me like a lunatic. “Nat, where did you go? We lost you.”

“Ahh … different showers, that’s all.” I shrug.

Her eyes widen when she spots the door behind me. Shit. Maybe I should’ve taken a few more steps.

“You came from the patriarch’s room? Oh wow …”

I hold up a hand. “It’s no big deal.”

“Yeah, it is,” she says.

Holly and April quickly run up to us the moment they spot us even though I’m trying not to get noticed.

“Natalie!” Holly yells. “Where were you?”

“The patriarchs took her to their private room,” Emmy explains before I can even say a word.

Holly’s jaw drops, and she stammers. “What? No!”

“Yes!” Emmy squeals and hugs me. “You’re such a lucky girl.”

Luck? Nothing about this had anything to do with luck.

“What happened?” April asks casually. She the only one who doesn’t understand what all the fuss is about.

Emmy turns around and grabs April’s hands. “A patriarch …” She points at me. “Chose her.”

She says it so loudly that the people around us turn and look.

If I wasn’t completely red already, I am now.

“Not so loud,” I hiss.

“Why are you hiding?” Emmy asks. “You should be celebrating!”

She grabs my hand and pulls me along with her into the crowd of dancing people, forcing me to dance with her. She seems incredibly elated about something that has nothing to do with her, and I don’t get it.

“No, stop. Why are you so excited?” I ask, managing to jerk free.

“Because it means that he chose you … as his wife.”

I frown. “What?”

Wife? No, no. This was just a fuck. No marriage involved. Right?

“No, that’s not—”

“Married? To a patriarch?” Holly screams.

I immediately shove my hand against her mouth. I don’t want the people to hear, let alone the patriarchs sitting on that stage right now.

“Is that true?” April asks. “How? How would you know?”

“Well, they have sex with you,” Emmy whispers.

April’s pupils dilate. “Ooh …”

Emmy’s suddenly up in my face. “Did you?”

“What?” I’m overwhelmed by questions and faces and things I don’t want to be thinking about right now. “That’s none of your business.”

“So you did …” Holly whispers when I take my hand off her mouth.

“Just stop, please,” I say. “I don’t know what it was, but I just want it to be … private. For now.”

“Okay, we’re zipping up,” Emmy says, pretending she’s throwing away the key on her zipped-up lips. But I know that can’t be further from the truth.

“It won’t be official until the patriarch announces it anyway,” Holly adds with glee.

The door opens, and Noah steps outside.

We briefly glance at each other, his commanding eyes attracting attention, but I force myself to look away.

“It’s him?” Emmy whispers.

I close my eyes and sigh.

But when I open them again and look at the stage where Noah is sitting … I spot that same woman with the auburn hair again. She’s standing behind a man sitting on the middle seat. With her hand, she swipes away as strand of hair that was covering her face, and her towel slides down just far enough to reveal a bruise on her chest.

Then she looks at me.

I freeze.

It’s for just a few seconds, and then she looks away again, but it’s enough for me.

It’s her. It has to be.

I know that woman.

And if she’s standing there right behind that patriarch, then she’s not a figment of my imagination. She’s real.

“Mom …” I mutter.

It has to be her. There’s no other explanation.

She’s the woman from my memories, the one who gave me the scarf.

“What?” Emmy asks, but I ignore her.

“Mom!” I yell out.

The woman looks my way again, and the look on her face is distraught, shaken.

I push through the crowd, heading straight for her. People around me look at me like I’ve lost my mind, and Emmy even tries to stop me, but I jerk myself free from her grip. I have to know.

So I push on, beyond the crowd, right through the pit where the people are fucking and toward the stage at the edge of the balcony. Noah stands up from his seat, glaring me down as though to strike fear into me, but I’m not afraid of him.

His fingers beckon, but not at me.

Suddenly, two guards jump on me, grabbing both my arms and pinning me down.

“No! Let me go!” I yell as they drag me away through the crowd.

Everyone’s looking at me, but I don’t care. I need to get to her. I have to speak with her. It’s the only way to know for sure.

So I struggle and fight every step they take, my body being slid across the concrete as though I’m a bag of sand. “No! I have to talk to her!” I yell.