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And now she was about to break her most important rule for a man who’d crashed through his barriers for her. But he’d been so honest and open with her, and their shared traumas had her feeling they were kindred souls.
“I was married,” she whispered.
Thunder stilled. The poor guy had to be confused, seeing as how she came across as such a sexual newbie. “Tell me,” he said, giving the words back to her. “I’ll keep your secrets safe, Makenna. Always.”
“I grew up across the country, in a…well I guess the best word to describe it is a commune-like place. We called it the community, but it didn’t have an official name. It was made of the kind of people you see documentaries about on TV. Preppers who stockpiled guns, food, ammo, and other supplies in preparation for Armageddon. They are a militia group. Violent, paranoid, bigoted. Hell, they’re probably considered a domestic terrorist organization by now.”
Thunder remained quiet, focused on her face as his hands stroked her back. The steady up and down trail of his hands kept her even.
“The community made their money farming. All the men farmed, but especially the male children. Long, hard days not appropriate for kids. And they participated in military-style training. Every boy was brought up to be a little soldier. Lee could shoot a rifle with more accuracy than most hunters by the time he was nine. He’s also trained in hand-to-hand combat, which is pretty much the only reason I don’t worry about him out on his own.”
“What about women? What do they do?” he murmured, running his hand along her spine. If the conversation hadn’t been so heavy, she’d have purred.
Memories of all the brainwashed women she’d grown up around had her frowning.
“They make babies. Lots of babies. And the female children and teens work as seamstresses. They pretty much had their own little sweatshop. I started working when I was three—bringing the workers fabric, putting things away. Again, long days. Few breaks.”
“What about school?”
“We were educated by a select group of the women. Former schoolteachers who’d joined us. Four hours of school in the morning, then six to eight hours of work in the afternoon, depending on your age. Once we turned nineteen, we were married off. Since my father is one of the founders of the community, I was considered a prized bride. I—” The words stuck in her throat.
She hated recalling the details of this time so much, her stomach cramped.
“It’s okay, baby. Take your time.” His soothing tone and the stroke of his steady hand helped her continue. If he wanted to know, she’d tell him. Denying him wasn’t possible.
“On my nineteenth birthday, I was married to a man in his sixties.”
“Fucking Christ.” He closed his eyes then ran a hand down his face as though fighting for control.
“His first wife had died a few months before. He could still produce children so…” She shrugged. “My job was to give him as many heirs as possible. He was permitted to impregnate single women outside our marriage as well. I was not allowed to stray. Those were the rules.”
“Christ, Mak, that’s fucked up. How long were you married to him?”
“About two years. He was…unaffectionate.” Such a tame word for his lack of caring about his wife.
Thunder’s jaw grew more like granite with each word she spoke. Mak stroked her fingers over his face. “Did he hurt you?”
“Sometimes,” she said though the truth would only make him angrier. “I was never interested in him, so sex was often uncomfortable.” Or worse. “I was considered rebellious. The black sheep who wouldn’t submit to the leader’s or my husband’s will. I’d never agreed with that way of life and didn’t always stay quiet about it, so I was frequently punished by my father, then my husband.”
“How?” he asked, tone cold.
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” The punishments were in the past and needed to die there.
“How, Makenna?” he asked, voice turning deadly.
“Thunder…”
“Please,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “I need to know.”
Her eyes fell shut, trapping a watery sheen of tears. “Beatings,” she whispered. A shiver ran up her spine as she recalled the final one that nearly did her in. “Isolation. Food and water deprivation.”
No longer was he warm and comforting presence against her. Now rigid, with anger radiating off him in waves, she used her body to bring him back down. “Thunder, it’s over. I’m okay. I had assistance from outside the community, and with Lee’s help, we got all the kids out. We escaped. That is not my life anymore and hasn’t been for two years.” She cupped his face and forced him to look into her eyes.
To see she was whole.
“Is Emmie your child?” he asked without the heat of moments ago.
