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I swallow. “I know.”
His fingers dig briefly into the wood, and I can almost feel them scratch at my throat.
When he’s gone, I breathe out a sigh, but it’s not one of relief.
I know he’ll keep searching. I’d have to rip his heart out of his chest for him to finally stop. But I know something he doesn’t, and I will stop at nothing to keep him from finding out that I’ve already found exactly who he’s looking for …
Natalie.
Natalie
Even though I know I’m supposed to go back to my room, I wander around aimlessly through the house they call the temple, checking out each room as I pass it. There’s a room filled with cozy seats, a giant marbled kitchen, an actual library, and then there’s the room with the giant cross in the back. I go inside and look at all the stained glass windows and the hand-carved wooden seats standing in front of what looks like an altar. Is this where they do all their prayers?
“Like our chapel?”
In shock, I turn around and come face to face with Patrick casually leaning against the doorjamb.
“I, uh … I didn’t mean to—”
“Sure, you did. You’re curious,” he says, shrugging as he lifts his eyebrows in a playful way. “It’s only natural.” He lets go of the doorway, and every step he takes toward me is one I take backward until I bump into one of the seats. It almost tumbles over, but as I struggle to grab it, he’s already reached out and kept it from falling to the floor.
“Careful there. These are almost antique.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, trying to remain calm, but he’s all up in my face and blocking the exit.
He gazes around at all the windows and the tapestries too. “Beautiful, isn’t it? This house has been in the Family’s possession for ages. But this room … this room always ignites something spiritual in the hearts of everyone who steps foot in here.”
Even he refers to this community as his family.
“What were you doing in here?” he asks.
“Ahh … nothing … just looking around,” I answer, but the way he looks at me makes me swallow. I don’t know what it is with these men, but the power they exude makes me feel weak. Vulnerable. As though my legs could falter right underneath me.
He cocks his head and glances at my fumbling fingers, and I immediately hide them behind my dress. “Do you need something?”
“No?” I mutter. “Why would I need something?” I shake my head, laughing, because it’s ridiculous, but at the same time, questions like that make me want to scream, cry, and tell him to get me the fuck out of here.
But he’s one of them. He would never help me.
Unless …
“Are you okay?” he asks, raising a brow.
I lower my head and blush. “Yeah, I think so.”
“You think so, or are you sure? Because that conversation back there looked painful,” he says, adding a laugh. “President Lawrence has this way with people. It’s just how he is.” He shrugs. “Well anyway, I just wanted you to know that I’m happy we get to welcome you to the Family.”
I smash my lips together and nod. “Thanks … I guess.”
“You don’t seem happy about it, though,” he says.
“How’d you guess?” I say, looking away. It’s hard to look a man like him in the eyes when I know he’s one of the bad guys, yet my heart wants nothing more than to talk with someone about everything I’m going through.
“I know he brought you here against your will,” he says. Suddenly, he grabs a strand of my hair and wraps it around his finger, and all I can do is stare into his brilliant blue eyes. “Sometimes I wonder if he really knows how lucky he is.”
“What?” I mutter.
“Somedays I wish it was me who was there to see you for the first time. Maybe, just maybe things would’ve gone differently then.”
Why would he say that? Is he … jealous of Noah?
“Don’t you have …?”
“A wife?” he fills in, smiling coyly. “No. I haven’t been so lucky yet.”
“But girls throw themselves at your feet in this community,” I say, and I almost wish I bit my tongue there.
He smiles but not in an arrogant way like Noah. This is more nonchalant. “Sure, it’s enjoyable, but that doesn’t mean I want them to be my wife. A wife is there forever. Until you die.” He curls his finger around my hair and tucks it behind my ear. “It has to be someone … special.”
I swallow. Hard.
“You’re lucky Noah already claimed you.”
His voice is so raw, so full of unspoken thoughts that I can’t find the words to reply.
“Does he treat you well?” he asks, placing both hands on my shoulders.
“Um … I think so,” I reply.
He leans in, and whispers into my ear, “You know … if it was up to me, I would’ve never, ever let you go through all that pain and suffering in that dark, concrete hut. I would’ve taken you straight into our home … into a warm and cozy bed … To show you how good the Family can be.”
