The Prophet (The Cloister Trilogy 2)

I pinch my lips together.

“Not going to talk today?” He grabs the fabric of my dress and pulls it up until my knee is exposed. When his palm rests against my bare skin, I shudder. “I bet I could make you talk.” His hand creeps up my thigh.

“Don’t.”

“That’s better.” He stops his progress and returns his palm to my knee. “I’d like for you to tell me your real name.”

I look straight ahead at the piano. “The Prophet gave me my real name. Delilah.”

He shrugs. “I suppose Delilah Roberts isn’t such a terrible name, is it?”

When his hand starts to creep again, I say, “No, it’s fine.”

“You’ll learn to like it… And me.”

I turn and meet his light blue eyes. “Just because you buy me doesn’t mean you own me.”

“And there it is.” He grips my knee. “That little bit of something extra. How have you managed to keep it in the Cloister?”

I silently curse myself for failing to play along. “I’m no different than the other Maidens.”

He tsks. “Not true at all. You’ve got some fight. I like that.” He shifts so I can feel his erection pressing against my ass. “I’m paying for that.”

I try to edge away from him, but he holds me tight.

“Stop.”

“Fuck, I love it when you say that.” He grabs my hair and presses his lips to mine. It’s ugly—our teeth clacking and his tongue sliding across the seam of my mouth. I won’t open for him. He pulls my hair harder, his other hand going to my throat.

I grab his wrist and dig my nails in.

He smiles against me. “More of that, my darling.”

“Fuck you.” I fight his grip, but he’s far stronger. “You’ll never have me.”

“I’ll have you so many ways.” He yanks my head back. “You won’t be able to move without thinking about the things I’ve done to you.” His warm breath presses against my ear. “I can’t wait for you to fight me, to beg and cry, to tell me no, and then give in.”

“Never.” I grit my teeth.

“Soon.” He relents but doesn’t let go of my hair. “But I came to see you again today because I’ll be out of town for a bit. D.C. doesn’t stop—not even for the holidays.”

I narrow my eyes. “I’ll cry every night.”

He laughs, and it sends ugly chills racing through me.

“I’m sure you will. But when I get back, you’ll be coming home with me. A New Year’s gift for myself. I truly can’t wait.”

I want to tell him his “gift” has already been given to Adam, but I don’t dare. My rebellion can never go that far. I can’t risk Adam, not when he’s working on a way out.

“My flight leaves in an hour.” He sets me on the couch next to him, then rises.

I don’t look at him, not even when he takes my hand and kisses the back. “Until next week, darling.”

Movement catches my eye, and I find Adam standing in the doorway, his anger barely contained. I’ve never noticed the vein in his temple pulsing until right this second.

When Evan turns around, Adam’s ire changes into a light, fake smile, which is somehow even scarier than the open murderous rage. He walks Evan out, but reappears quickly, rushes to me, and grabs me by the front of my dress, yanking me up hard.

I cry out as he shakes me. “Don’t ever speak to your suitor that way again!” His voice carries, likely to the Prophet’s ears, but I don’t miss his grin or the quick squeeze of my hand or the faint brush of his lips against mine that I can feel all the way down to my toes.

Chapter 22

Adam

“One of them wants mine?” Noah flops onto his couch and lets out an uncomfortable grunt as he reaches for his remote. Felix, his orange tabby, climbs into his lap and starts a loud purr.

“He’s a mayor from Bay Minette. Small potatoes, but he comes from money, and has an eye for your girl.” I kick my aching feet up onto his ottoman. “All day talking to these fucking perverts, and then Dad chimes in and reminds me he needs new stock for the Cathedral and the Chapel. There aren’t enough Maidens to go around.” I lean my head back. “How’s the farm stuff?”

He flicks on the TV, which defaults to the Heavenly Channel—the Prophet Leon Monroe yapping nonstop.

“Turn that shit off.” I feel around on his side table for the joint I saw when I walked in.

“Hang on.” He presses a few buttons and the Cloister training room flickers onto the screen. “Damn, strap-on day.”

I look for Delilah. She stands in the ring of Maidens, her eyes on the awkward ass-fucking the Spinner is directing.

“This should be hot.” Noah points. “But it’s the furthest thing from it.”

I light up the joint and take a drag, then lean over and pass it to him. “Farm?” I remind him.