The Church (The Cloister Trilogy 3)

Noah pulls his flask out, drains some of it, then offers it to Adam and me. We both shake our heads.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” Adam’s voice is still coarse, as if there’s glass in his throat. But the doctors say he’ll heal. But, like me, there will be scars.

“Yeah, well, keep on meaning to, because today is not the day I stop drinking.” He looks out the window and tugs at his collar. “Did I really have to wear a tie?”

“You’re the preacher. You kind of have to. Besides, you both look so handsome.” I try to force a smile.

Noah grimaces.

Adam grips my hand a little tighter.

“You know the plan. It’s all been loaded onto the teleprompter. Easy.” Zion is our driver for the day, though my mistrust still sends alarm bells ringing whenever I’m around him. “Just get it done, and the immunity is set. And, if you choose to stay on—”

“No.” Noah shakes his head.

Zion straightens his sunglasses. “The federal government isn’t in the habit of telling religious institutions how to conduct their business, but if you could just think about staying on for a little while longer, until things settle, that would—”

“He said no.” I glare at Zion in the rearview mirror.

He nods and finally shuts his mouth.

Adam leans over and whispers in my ear, “You look beautiful.”

He’s only told me three times so far today, and I blush each time. He and Noah are wearing conservative suits, but Adam threw a growly fit when I tried to choose a simple navy blue dress for today.

“You can wear any color under the sun. No hiding. Shine like you’re supposed to.” His eyes light and send heat rushing through me. I want to feel him so badly, but he still hasn’t recovered enough for us to make love. We’ll be there soon.

“Emily?” Noah’s opened the car door and holds his hand out for me.

“I got it.” Adam opens the door on his side and helps me up.

“Dick.” Noah smirks over the roof of the car.

Adam wraps a protective arm around me as Zion and Davis walk us into the church. A host of media has set up on the grass to the right of the entrance, their cameras clicking and video rolling. A few journalists shout questions about the “atrocities” and “legacy of the Monroe family,” but we keep our heads down and rush inside the church.

Zion, his sunglasses still on, leads us back into the hallway of classrooms and to the stage door. When he opens it, so much rushes back to me that I have to stop.

“It’s okay.” Adam pulls me in tight to his side. “If you can’t do this, no one will blame you.”

I take a deep breath and shake the ghosts away. They aren’t here. No Prophet, no Rachel, no Grace. There’s only a stage—wood floor, concrete walls, wide open space. I climb the stairs and look out toward the open where the stage lights shine brightest. No Maidens kneel along the front row, no children wearing white, no Heavenly PD officers. Only more plainclothes FBI agents directing people to their seats and standing across the way in the other wing.

“You’re safe. I’ve got guys all over this place. No one is coming at you. And everyone was searched upon entry.” Zion stands with his hands behind his back. Likely his best attempt at being reassuring—but it falls flat. I’ll never see him as anything other than a Protector.

Adam turns me away from Zion, both of us facing the stage. “You really are safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you. You know that, right?”

“I do.” I take a deep breath as a recorded hymn, “Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus,” plays over the sound system. Noah mutters to himself, practicing despite the teleprompter, “Unity, love, acceptance, healing, compassion for others…”

Adam doesn’t leave my side. “We can go anytime. The deal is for Noah. Not you. You don’t have to speak if you don’t want to.”

I push up on my tiptoes and kiss his clean-shaven face. “I love you.”

He closes his eyes, as if relishing the words. “Every time you say that, it’s hard to believe. But, because you’re the one saying it, I always believe.” His dark eyes find me again, and just like that, he takes my breath away in a kiss. He slides his hands down to my waist as his tongue strokes mine, his mouth perfect against me.

Noah clears his throat.

We ignore him, and I rest my hands on Adam’s shoulders as he pulls me tight to his chest. I could get lost in his kiss. Forget where we are, ignore the pain and the loss this place embodies, but he lets me go.

“I don’t care what the doctors say, little lamb.” He drops one more kiss on my lips. “Tonight, you’re mine.”