The Church Read online

  The Church

  Celia Aaron

  Celia Aaron

  Copyright © 2018 Celia Aaron

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book only. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Celia Aaron.

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  WARNING: This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language.

  DIRE WARNING: If you pirate this book, your soul will rot in hell.

  Cover art by Perfect Pear

  Cover models Thom & Tiffany

  Cover image by Wander Aguiar

  Copy Editing by Spell Bound

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Celia Aaron

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Grace

  I spit the come out of my mouth and stand, using the sleeve of my habit to wipe the remnants from my lips.

  “You spit?” The guard frowns at me then zips up. “I figured you Spinners would be old-school swallowers.”

  “Can I go now?” I stand and edge around him.

  He grabs my arm and squeezes until it hurts. “Five minutes. That’s it.”

  “Okay.”

  “Go.” He shoves me, and I almost fall, but the gravel is forgiving, my flats skating over the surface as I gain my feet.

  Brushing the dust from my black skirt, I hurry into the punishment circle. It’s eleven-thirty, and the Prophet is in the middle of his sermon. I won’t be missed if I make this quick and get back before he’s done.

  The three crosses beckon, the center one heavier than the others. Adam hangs there, his head drooping and his body limp. My throat closes, a sob threatening, but I bite it back. I’m good at that.

  I hurry to the cross. “Adam.”

  He opens his eyes.

  “Adam, it’s me.”

  “I know who it is. What do you want?” His voice is still gruff, but scratchier now. Raw.

  I say the first words that come to mind. “I’m sorry.”

  “Always with the sorry.” He shifts his feet on the tiny scrap of wood beneath him, doing his best to support himself.

  Blood still oozes from the wounds in his hands, and I know they’ll scar horribly. I’m deeply familiar with flesh—how easily it’s marred, how quickly it can bleed, and how long-lasting the damage can be.

  I’m fascinated by the rips in him, the man I used to think was invincible.

  “Well?”

  I look him in the eye again. “Your mother is working to get you down as soon as possible.”

  He smirks, his personality still intact even if his body is bruised and broken. “What’s her plan? Murder another innocent and ask the Father of Fire to intervene? No thanks.”

  “No.” I reach out and touch the cold wood, the texture rough and ugly under my fingertips. “She’s going to speak to your father.”

  “Because that works so well.” He grimaces and shifts his feet again.

  So much pain. That’s what this entire place is—pain. Given and taken. I’m a walking testament to it. But I play my part, like I always have. I bide my time. I hurt whoever gets in my way, and I won’t stop until Adam is by my side and the Prophet is buried in a shallow grave.

  “She can do more than you think. But I need you to trust her. To trust me.” My voice shakes as I speak the deepest desire of my heart—to mend the trust I broke, to bring back that spark of love that I extinguished with my foolish devotion to the Prophet.

  He spits on the ground next to me. “Never.”

  “Adam, please.” I reach up toward him, but he’s so far away—just like he’s always been since … Since she died.

  “How can I trust you? You?” He shakes his head and winces. “I can’t.”

  “You can.” I grip the cross so hard my knuckles crack. “I can show you.”

  “How, Jenny? How?”

  He uses my name. My real name, and some small piece of me is reborn.

  “I’ll …” I lean my forehead on the wood. “I can maybe …”

  “Delilah,” he grinds out her name.

  I recoil. “What about that whore?”

  “You take care of her, and I’ll trust you.”

  “What?” I want her dead, not under my wing. The moment she came to the Cloister, the moment she touched my Adam, she’s been a never-ending source of trouble. I’ve been pushing for the senator to take her as soon as possible. Delilah is nothing more than another harlot who thinks she can tempt Adam. I’ll be damned if I do anything to save her from her well-deserved fate with Senator Roberts. “Why would I ever do anything for her? She’s the reason you’re here. She led you down the wrong path with her virgin pussy and freakish looks. If it weren’t for her, you’d—”

  “Jenny!” He struggles to stand, more blood spilling from his palms. “You heard me. You protect her, keep her away from that senator. If you can do that—if you can show me that you’re capable of doing what I ask in that regard—then, and only then, will I trust you.” He ends on a harsh breath, as if it’s his last.

  I walk around the cross, as if playing a harmless game of “Ring Around the Rosie,” as I think about what he’s said. Do I feel threatened? No. Of course not. I laugh the thought away. Delilah is nothing, no one. She doesn’t have the history that Adam and I have. Once she’s gone, he won’t even give her another moment of his time. He’s mine. He’s always been mine, and one Maiden with a shitty attitude can’t change that.

  “Well?” he grates.

  I stop in front of him and peer up at the man who owns half of my soul and all of my heart. “If I keep her away from the senator, then you’ll take me back?”

  “Keep her safe, which includes keeping her away from that dickwad. If you can do that, I’ll trust you again.”

  Trust. Adam used to be big on that. Maybe he still is. To me, it’s just a word that can be used to control people, to bend them to your will. But for him, it’s something bigger. I don’t understand it, but I want it all the same. That and so much more.

  The idea of helping Delilah burns like acid in my veins, but it doesn’t have to be all bad. After all, I’m the one on the ground, the one with leverage. Adam can’t call the shots from the cross. Not really.

  “Here’s the deal.” I fold my arms over my chest. “I’ll keep her safe. You have my word. But when this is over and you’re the new Prophet, you will cast her out and marry me.”

  His
mouth hardens into a line. “Jenny, I can’t—”

  I turn on my heel and walk away.

  “Jenny!” he calls, his worn voice breaking.

  I stop and face him. “What’s your answer?” My heart forgets to beat, hanging on whatever words spill from his battered mouth next.

  He sags, pain twisting his face into an ugly mask. “It’s a deal.”

  Chapter 2

  Delilah

  Warm water runs over me, though I can barely feel it.

  Ruth, the apparent leader of the women in the Cathedral, stands behind me and asks, “Too hot?”

  I shake my head and wrap my arms around myself. “I don’t know what to do.” My thoughts are fractured, but that one flows out with utter clarity. I’m lost. Adam is crucified. And no one can help either of us.

  “You can’t do much. Not when you’re in here.” She leans against the white tile wall, just out of reach of the spray. “And not when you’re nearly frozen through.”

  “I have to save him. He can’t stay up there like that.” I can see him so clearly, the anguish pouring out of him and painting everything in a desperate black.

  “The Prophet will take him down.” She hands me a bottle of body wash. “Eventually.”

  “When?” I just stare at the soap she’s offering.

  “We have to wait.”

  “Wait?” I take the body wash, my movements more mechanical than human. “That’s the only thing you’ve told me since I got here.”

  She proffers a baby-blue bath sponge. “When you’re locked in, surrounded by armed guards, and scrutinized at all times, that’s all you can do.” She shakes the sponge.

  I grab it.

  A bell rings somewhere outside the wide, white bathroom.

  She sighs. “I’m going to service. You’ll stay here, most likely. I doubt you’ll be allowed out of the Cathedral. I’d play sick and stay for you, but it’s one of the few times I get to see my son Ezekiel. Just stay put and warm up. I’ll lay out some clothes for you on my bed, okay?”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why are you being kind to me?” I glance around at the wide expanse of empty shower stalls. None of the other women have come near me in the short time I’ve been at the Cathedral. And even though I know Ruth is part of whatever Chastity has bubbling on the compound, that doesn’t mean it’s smart for her to take such an obvious interest in me. After all, I’m a problem.

  “Sometimes that’s all we have left. Being kind.” She turns, her dark braid flowing down her back. “I’ll be back after service. Maybe I’ll know more. But don’t count on it.” She disappears into the tile labyrinth, and I’m left alone with my unwieldy thoughts and the hiss of the water.

  I lean against the wall, and the vision of Adam nailed to the cross invades my mind and brings me to my knees. My heart is twisted and punctured, and I wonder if I can survive this? Can Adam? The tears don’t come. I must have shed them all at Adam’s feet.

  My tears meant nothing to the Prophet, who oozed satisfaction as Adam suffered. “Let this be a lesson to any here who would think to defy me. I am the Lord’s Prophet, and I will punish the unjust!”

  No one helped him. Not even Noah, his own brother. The man just stood stone-faced and stared. But maybe that fits. If he killed Georgia, what’s a little more suffering to him? Nothing. He was probably just glad it wasn’t him up there, naked and beaten. Something sparks beneath my despair, lighting it on fire with slow blue flames. Adam didn’t deserve his fate. But there are plenty of people here that do.

  The same rage that fueled me to find Georgia’s killer begins to percolate in my veins, all of it directed at the Prophet. Any man who would torture his own son deserves a slow death. I drop the sponge and turn my palms over. Water trickles down my skin, and I feel every minute movement. Could I use these hands to kill someone? Yes.

  The truth whispers through my mind. When I came here, I wanted answers and vengeance. Now—after seeing what the Prophet is capable of—I’ve changed. How could I not? Violence and terror are harsh mistresses that mar everything they touch. Including me.

  I’m not after closure anymore. I’m after blood.

  I should be shocked at my thoughts, afraid of what I intend to do. But I’m not. I pull myself up to my feet and lean my head back, embracing the flowing water instead of hiding from it.

  I’m done being a Maiden, done pretending to believe in the Prophet. I will fight and claw and kill if I have to. I don’t know how just yet, but I’ll find a way.

  Heavenly will burn. I smile. It’s a real one that reaches all the way down to my roots. Pure delight prickles along my skin at the thought of the Prophet hung on that same cross, his lifeblood pouring out of him.

  “Fuck me.”

  I startle and open my eyes.

  Evan Roberts stands outside my shower stall, his gaze roving over my naked body.

  I drape one arm across my breasts and cross my legs.

  “It’s already in here.” He taps his temple. “Not to mention what I’ve got on my phone.”

  “What are you doing here?” I dart forward and grab the towel from the hook. “I’m tainted goods, remember?”

  He smiles as I wrap myself up and flip off the water. “You aren’t pure anymore, that’s true.” Stepping to the side, he blocks my way out of the shower. “But I blew off some steam last night and saw a beautiful sight this morning.”

  I glare.

  “Oh, not you, darling, though I enjoyed the show.” He smirks. “Adam on the cross—it was the best way imaginable to start my day. Dropped by to get a good look before I came here. He wouldn’t speak to me. But I told him a few things—mostly about what I intend to do to you. How I’m going to fuck every one of your holes till you bleed. And then I might share you. I haven’t decided on that part yet. And, because I want to show that I’m still a good sport, even though he stole something from me, I promised him I’d send him the video.”

  My knees threaten to give, but I straighten my back. I won’t show any weakness in front of him. Never again.

  I step forward with feigned strength. “I can still feel him inside me. Did you know that?” A thrill pulses through me when his smirk dies. “Maybe I’ll always feel him since he was my first.” I close my eyes and make an mmm sound. “God, what I wouldn’t give for another time with him. Just one more—”

  He grabs me by my throat and slams me against the tile. “Shut your mouth!”

  I keep my smile intact despite the pain in the back of my head. “He was so thick, filled me until I thought I’d burst.” I bite my lip. “I wanted it from him. All of him. He made me bleed, then kept fucking me until I came. No one can take his place.”

  His grip tightens, his face only inches from mine. “Is that what you want? To be fucked until you bleed?”

  “Yes.” I lick my lips. “But only by Adam.”

  Squeezing harder, he blocks my breath. “You fucking tease.” He slides his other hand between my thighs. “You want me riled up?” He cups my sex, his fingers seeking to punish, not please. “You got it.”

  Someone clears their throat, and a man’s voice echoes through the empty shower room. “I’m sorry, Senator. But you can’t touch the Maiden until you’ve—”

  “Bought her. I know. I fucking know.” He removes his hands and steps back. Letting out a labored breath, he burns me with his harsh gaze, the psychopath inside blazing through.

  I swallow and tamp down the well-hidden panic. Maybe I can’t stop my fear, but I can refuse to give in to it.

  “I’ll never stop talking about him, thinking about him, wanting him instead of you.” I tighten my towel around me. “Never.”

  He clears the way for me to walk by, but I stay put. All my trust belongs to Adam, no one else.

  He puts his hands up, palms out, and backs up another step. “If you think your smart mouth is going to stop me, you don’t know me at all.”

  “I don’t want to know you, and you don’
t want to know me.” I hurry past him. “I will fight you, hurt you, do everything I can to kill you.”

  “Maiden!” The guard glowers. “Watch your mouth, and know your place.”

  I stride past him. “I know my place. It’s beneath Adam Monroe.”

  The guard grabs me by my hair and wheels me around to face Evan. “Apologize to the senator.”

  “No.” I grit my teeth.

  He yanks harder as Evan approaches, hunger in his eyes. “I said apologize, bitch.”

  Despite the flaring pain in my scalp, I glue my lips together.

  Evan grabs the front of my towel and rips it away.

  I will not cower. No matter what he does.

  He licks his lips as the guard presses a cold barrel against my temple. “Apologize.”

  “Don’t move. Either of you.” Evan pulls his phone from his pocket and holds it up.

  “Sick fuck.” I want to smash his goddamn camera.

  “You have no idea.” After a few camera clicks, he grins, pockets his phone, then motions to the guard. “Now put that away.”

  “She needs to—”

  “I said put that away!” His yell is like a shot.

  The barrel disappears as does the grip on my hair. I scoop my towel off the floor and dart past the guard and into the large dormitory with the baby-blue carpet.

  Evan follows me to Ruth’s alcove. “I’ll be back for you, Delilah.”

  I edge away from her bed, though I eye the clothes she’s laid out. I won’t let Evan catch me off guard. “I’ll kill you.” It’s not a threat. Just a fact.