Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 121153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“Go to your prophet,” a low, stern voice ordered into my ear. I opened my eyes. Brother Luke was holding apart the curtains around the bed. The prophet lay in the center, still fully clothed.
“Go,” Brother Luke ordered when I made no move. With leaden feet, I forced myself to walk. I did not breathe as I made my way to the bed. When I raised my knee and crawled to the center beside the prophet, I was sure I would never breathe again.
As I had been instructed by the sisters this morning, I lay flat on my back, keeping my eyes downcast, never meeting the prophet’s gaze. I placed my hands over my stomach, frustrated with myself as I failed to stop their intense, incessant shaking.
The curtains were closed around us. The crowd began praying for salvation, their murmurs penetrating through the gauze. I looked at the curtains, trying to see how see-through they truly were. I could see Brother Luke and the other elders through the material, but their features were blurred.
I took some comfort in that. Although this joining would be public, only our movements would be seen. My tears would not betray my fear to the people. I could not stand for them to see me break.
You must do this.
Tinny prayer music began pouring through the speakers surrounding the commune, and my heart matched its pace to the beat. I felt the prophet shift and remove his pants, but not his top. He lay back down next to me.
Stray tears escaped from the corners of my eyes as he climbed above me. I closed my eyes as I felt his warm breath ghost over my face. I expected him to speak. I expected him to be rough and cruel, so I was startled when he delicately pushed a strand of hair from my forehead.
His hand fell to mine on my stomach. I stiffened as he laced his fingers through mine. I sucked in a shocked breath when I realized his hand was trembling.
I froze, completely still, as I fought over whether or not to open my eyes. I counted to three, then blinked up through my long painted lashes . . . and straight into the kindest set of dark eyes I had ever seen . . . a pair of eyes I would know from anyone else’s . . .
He moved our joined hands up to his lips. And that was when I saw it. I saw what his subtle movement was showing me—his heavily inked skin, the demonic forms peeking out from beneath the tunic’s sleeves. My heart swelled to an impossible fullness, and astounded relief flooded though me.
“Rider,” I mouthed, expelling the breath that I had kept so tightly caged. Rider’s dark eyes closed in relief too. He placed a kiss on our clasped fingers and opened his eyes.
His fear of this moment reflected my own.
Rider stared into my eyes, and we both tensed as the crowd’s prayers grew louder, urging the joining to be complete. Brother Luke coughed from beside the bed. “Prophet Cain? Is everything well?”
“Get away from this bed! Now!” he snarled. My skin crawled; Rider sounded just like his twin. Brother Luke scurried to the farthest side of the platform. But I could see him watching from where he had stopped.
“I’m so sorry,” Rider whispered. I looked at his face and saw the regret and sorrow etched onto his every beautiful feature.
“How?” I whispered back. “I do not understand? How are you here?”
Rider shook his head, silently telling me that now was not the time to ask. I had played this role of the prophet’s betrothed for many days. I could do it for a short time more. His eyes closed. The people outside were becoming restless. I subtly moved my hand to lie over his chest, and he opened his eyes.
The pain that shone back at me cut down my heart. “Rider,” I said almost inaudibly. “We must do this. Judah . . . he would not have hesitated.”
He winced. “I know. But . . . ” A shade of scarlet washed over his olive skin.
“What?” I asked, moving my body closer to his, trying to urge him to lie directly above me. Rider’s already shocked eyes widened further, but he moved over me, his naked lower body meeting my own. His pupils grew as our bare skins brushed.
He sucked in a breath, and I lifted my hand to his cheek. “Rider—”
“I don’t know what to do,” he said, cutting me off. Sorrow infused my heart seeing such a formidable man so scared. Rider’s face reddened further, but this time it was in anger. “Harmony,” he rasped. “I’m so fucking sorry. This shouldn’t be happening . . . not like this.”
I almost broke at the sincerity in his voice. As I watched Rider’s face become alive with disgust and uncertainty, with the heavy conflict he felt at taking me right here and right now, I knew I had to take charge.