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My shallow breaths and running water were the only sounds in the room. My heartbeat echoed in my ears.
He pulled out and rolled onto his back, taking me with him. With my head on his damp chest his arms caged me in an almost suffocating embrace. He didn’t have to say a word.
I knew some part of him needed this just as much as I did. He placed a kiss to the top of my wet head.
“What did you mean when you said you bought us more time?” I found myself asking after an elongated silence persisted.
His fingers ran up down my arm, leaving goose-bumps in their wake.
“Someone told David I had you. He thought I was going to hand you over. I had to make him believe it was true. And in the lobby, I needed to make it look like I was bringing you in against your will. If someone runs to tell him I’ve got you back, it helps me narrow down my rat. I know the names of every acolyte here. After tomorrow though, it won’t matter. He’ll know you’re mine.”
“What happens tomorrow?” I smothered a yawn and curled further into his warmth.
“Everything changes,” he answered quietly.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
He was gone when I woke up.
I lay there for a minute, letting the events of the past two weeks and everything leading up to them flicker through my mind.
Beneath me, the comforter was still damp, and the setting sun cast a warm, hazy glow inside the suite.
I felt more rested than I had since everything went to shit, apart from the lingering soreness between my legs and the bruises on my wrists.
I still had that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, the one that made me long to hurt someone.
Across the room, a table lamp was on. Beside it was a small pile of clothes that hadn’t been there before. Not knowing where Romero was or when he was coming back, I left the comfort of the bed behind for another shower.
I combed out my hair and lathered on an entire little bottle of peppermint lotion before getting dressed.
The pants looked like a black pair of skinny jeans but were really some type of stretchy material. They were a perfect fit. Of course, Romero didn’t bring me any goddamn underwear or a bra, so fortunately, the tank top was the same material and snuggly hugged the girls.
After pulling on a pair of socks, I wandered into the room with a much clearer mind to find I’d been locked in.
It wasn’t until I looked down that I saw why Romero didn’t use a keycard to get in. The lock had been flipped around.
“Asshole.” I smacked the door and walked to the window.
I stood there for a good ten minutes trying to decide what to do next, thinking over what Romero had told me. Who the hell would tell David he had me, and why? And why would he want me back?
I was cast out and left to die. It had been four years ago, but it all felt fresh. I remembered the stolen innocence and the things they did to me, all for the benefit of getting their dicks wet or pussies eaten. I would never forget that it was my father who made me drop to my knees or spread my legs on command, always taking his turn last.
I wondered what little girl had replaced me and how many of the others were impregnated by an uncle, cousin, or sibling.
The Order needed to be annihilated.
I couldn’t change my past, but their blood staining my hands would still make me feel better. I wanted to do it nice and slow, draw it out and prolong their suffering as they did to me. I wanted them on their knees, begging for mercy as death lingered in the shadows ready to drag them purgatory.
Hell was too much of a paradise for these kinds of people.
We’d already taken out two of the Bishops, so that left six—David included—and when they fell, their delegates would follow.
“Pixie.”
At the sound of his voice, I spun around. He stepped in, holding a pair of boots and a metal thermos, shutting the door with his shoulder.
His hair was back in its perfect combed-back style. He was wearing a navy T-shirt that hugged him in the best way possible, and dark jeans.
