The Church (The Cloister Trilogy 3)

“Yes.” She releases her hold on me. “I’ll do it. Start with her fingers, move to her face, then to other parts. But I’ll make sure she’ll live. I won’t kill her. I’ll tell her the reason why this is happening to her—because her bitch of a daughter didn’t care enough about her to save her.”

I clasp my shaking hands together. “Why are you like this?” The question is as honest as it is futile. In my experience, monsters don’t self-reflect, they just act. Again and again, destroying whatever they need to in order to get their way.

“I’m strong, Delilah.” Her blue eyes are stone, her back straight. “Something you’ll never be. Now, unless you want me to send the pieces to you in boxes, you’ll stop this stupidity right now. Go.” She turns and stands, then smooths her already-smooth black dress.

I stand numbly, my body in some sort of shock from the painfully vivid image Grace painted. What am I going to do?

“Come on.” She grabs my elbow and pulls me into the house.

The Prophet’s bodyguard is standing just inside, his dark eyes locking on Grace when we walk in.

“Stay.” She shoves me against the bar and walks a few feet away to have a whispered conversation with the man. When it’s over, she returns to my side, some color in her cheeks. It must have been good news.

We walk up the staircase to the main level, and she leads me to the familiar room with the piano and the couches. My stomach churns, and for once I’m glad the Cloister doesn’t offer breakfast. Just being in here, remembering what Evan did to me on this very couch, would likely have me vomiting in the corner if I had anything in my stomach.

“Don’t move.” She deposits me and walks to the door, then pauses. “And don’t forget about sweet little Mommy over in the Rectory.”

When she’s gone, I switch to the other couch. The one I haven’t been assaulted on… yet. My fingers tangle together just like my thoughts. I had a plan—not a great one—but it was a plan. Now, Grace’s threats have turned it all upside down. I can’t leave here. My mom hasn’t been there for me, but that doesn’t mean I can turn my back on her now. Not when I know Grace is absolutely serious in her threats and dedicated in her follow-through.

I rest my head in my hands and hold in the scream that echoes through my mind. I can’t let it out. And worse, I can’t get out.

“Darling.” Evan strides in.

I jump. And I hate that I jump.

He smiles and sits next to me, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “I hear you’re desperate to be mine. That true?”

My strategy is shot. For now. But maybe I can turn this around somehow.

“I’ve changed.”

“You have?” He slings his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close, his expensive cologne spicy and masculine. “What made you come around?” Taking my chin, he pulls my face around to his. Then he squints. “What’s this?” He strokes his finger along the bruise next to my eye.

“I had an accident.” I shrug. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t lie.” His expression sours.

I scoot closer to him, even though I hate every bit of contact between us. “Okay, someone hit me. But it doesn’t matter now. You’re here.” I can’t feel the bruise, but I remember perfectly how I got it. Last night, when the Prophet wanted me to suck him, he couldn’t get it up. Somehow, I was to blame, and the bare knuckle hit to the side of my face was my punishment.

He laughs lightly. “What are you up to, darling? I know you don’t want anything to do with me. It’s one of the reasons I’m crazy about you.” Nuzzling into my hair, he says, “Tell me how you want to kill me again.”

I push away from him. It’s instinct. And not what I’m supposed to be doing. Damn.

“See?” He smirks. “You haven’t changed.”

“I have!” I climb into his lap and straddle him. My heart clenches and shudders, but my mind is right where it needs to be.

His eyes light with surprise, and he rests his hands on my hips. “This should be good.”

“Look, I admit I don’t want any of this. I want to be free.”

His fingers dig into my skin. “Never.”

“I know.” I shift forward until my core rests over his erection, even though I’m dry as dust. “I know I can’t be free. So I’d rather be with you than here.” I run my fingertips along the bruise. “They hurt me at the Cloister.”

He grins. “I’ll hurt you, too, darling.”

My palms go clammy, and I rest them on his shoulders. “I know. But you’ll give me pleasure, too, won’t you?”

“Yes.” He says the word as if it’s obvious.