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Fuck no. Definitely not. “You wish.”
He laughs, but I don’t think it’s funny.
I push myself away from him and head straight for the door, but the handle refuses to budge. Of course, he locked it. Dammit.
“If you want to know, the other door is closed as well. In case you were going to try that one too.”
Why do I feel as though he can see straight through me? He knows what I’m thinking before even I do, and he always seems one step ahead.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.” He’s right behind me. “Tell me what you feel. The truth.”
“I hate this place and all your customs. It’s unnatural,” I say.
It’s the first time in ages that I’ve let out what I truly think … and I’m scared and horrified all at the same time. Will he punish me for it?
“I’m so confused,” I mutter.
His finger slips behind the shawl that covers my hair, and he slides it away. “It’s what we do. How we do it,” he whispers into my ear. “Our conversions never fail.”
My lips quiver, and I close my eyes, hoping I don’t succumb to his seduction. “Why me? Why did you choose me?”
“Ask me what you really want to ask, Natalie,” he says, his voice thick and dark, like honey, sugar-coating the harshness.
“The scarf … the symbol … what does it mean?” I ask.
“It’s our symbol, the symbol of our community, the Family,” he says. “But you already know that, don’t you?”
My lips part, but I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know what to think. The implications are just too much to bear. I lean my head against the wood, pushing back the tears.
“You can run from the truth, but it’ll always catch up with you,” he says, and he places his hand right beside my head against the wooden door. Another one slithers around my waist, fingers curling around the fabric of my virginal white dress.
“One day, you will belong to me,” he whispers.
His lips touch the back of my neck only briefly as if to tempt me, and I place my hands on the door, my nails scratching the wood. It’s hard, so hard not to just give in and let him carry me off toward a better life. But that would mean betraying my sense of justice, my sense of self.
“You’ve seen what happens here. You know what it means to belong to the Family. And you know you want so much more than just this …” His grip around my waist tightens, right around the edge of my scar, and I suck in a breath in response. “You want the power. Because power means freedom,” he says, and he leans in. “My power.”
I shake my head. I can’t let him snake his way inside. It’s not right.
“Give in, Natalie. Let me own you, and you’ll have everything you desire,” he murmurs.
I brace myself against the wood, and growl, “Never.”
And I twist around in his arms and glare at him with every bit of hatred I’ve felt for this place, blaming it all on him.
“You twist the truth with lies and try to wrap me around your finger, but it won’t work. You brought me into this prison, and I won’t ever forget that.”
“You brought yourself here the moment you went looking for me,” he says. Grabbing a loose strand of my hair that peeks out from under the shawl, he curls it around his finger, almost as if to taunt me with my own words. “You didn’t have to, but you did it anyway. Curiosity is what drives you. And I have all the answers you seek.” His eyes bore into my soul, catching me off guard.
“My mother …” I mutter.
He doesn’t have to say it out loud. I know what he was hinting at.
A smirk forms on his lips. “The truth comes at a hefty price, Natalie. But I think you already know that.”
“Get out,” I say, overwhelmed by emotions.
“I am a patriarch. This community is my home. Any hut is mine for the taking at any second of the day. Don’t you understand? The people here worship us.”
“I am not one of them,” I say. “Get. Out.”
“No, I think I have a better idea,” he says, approaching me again, but I step aside.
He leans toward the door and unlocks it.
Just like that.
And I contemplate rushing toward it and slamming it in his face, but that would probably make the guards come for me, and he knows.
This is just another form of temptation. A way to manipulate me.
“You want to leave? Go ahead,” he says. “But know that your initiation will end and that you will become a wife, whether you like it or not.”
“Never,” I say, shaking my head. I can’t even think about that ceremony without feeling queasy.
