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Too bad for her … I’m more than serious about her.
I put down the glass. “Yes. To get you to momentary safety.”
“Momentary …?” she repeats.
It’s exactly that word which bears so much power, and she knows it.
“Momentary … because you were always supposed to return.”
“Why?” Her teeth barely separate as she speaks, and it’s so damn sexy it makes me want to kiss her, but she’d probably bite me if I tried.
“You’re cute when you think you have power over me,” I reply with a smile.
She almost bursts right then and there, and I have to admit it looks amazing. My eyes can’t help but gorge themselves on her ripped dress and those tits that beg to be released underneath that push-up bra. I wish I’d ripped it off in the fields too.
My peeking is cut short by her immediately grasping the shreds of the dress and pulling them together. “Stop looking at me like you want to eat me up,” she says.
I shrug. “I’m sorry, but I do.”
“Control your urges then,” she says.
I step closer. “Why? Give me one good reason.”
“Because I’m not your personal plaything,” she answers as I stand right before her. “I’m a human with feelings, with needs, wants, and wishes. You want me to be your wife? Then be a proper husband.”
“It’s amusing to me that you think you know the rules of our Family,” I reply, and I put a single finger underneath her chin. “Make no mistake … I may be your husband, but I am still your patriarch, and you will do exactly as I say.”
“Over my dead body,” she hisses back.
My eyes twitch. I both hate and love her tenacity.
“You think you’re the only one who can play games? Wrong,” she says. “I’m not going to be easy. I’m not going to be quiet. I’ll never be the good wife you so desperately seek.”
“I’m not asking you to be,” I reply, caressing her cheeks. “I simply want you to behave. And speaking with that woman is the opposite of that.”
Her face darkens. “You’re afraid of her, aren’t you?” She slaps away my hand. “She knows what you did, and you don’t want the others to know.”
“What she did is what any mother would do for a child.”
Her eyes widen. “So she is my mother.”
I close my eyes and sigh. I wish I didn’t have to admit it.
“C’mon, give me something, anything to work with. I can’t do this without information, Noah. I need the truth,” she says, playing at my heartstrings.
I pinch my forehead. “Fine. Yes, she is your mother.”
“And you knew all this time and didn’t tell me,” she says.
“If I’d told you, you would’ve gotten hurt,” I say.
“She’s my mother! I deserved to know.” She points at me. “You kept me away from her on purpose.” She taps the side of her head near her sleep. “You made me think I was losing my mind.”
I close the gap between us. “I did it to keep you safe. Knowing this information only puts you and your mother in danger. Don’t you understand? The other patriarchs aren’t as forgiving as I am. They’d do far worse things to you than I ever could.”
She puts on some attitude. “Oh, like putting me in that suffering hut?” she retorts.
“No,” I say, leaning in so I can whisper. “They’d cut off your head.”
It’s true that the patriarchs employ cruel punishments for those who don’t obey. And I’m sure they’d cut off the head of any random girl who would defy them.
But she isn’t any random girl … She’s the daughter of a matriarch. And if they find out I’ve found her, a riot of epic proportions will break out.
I don’t want them finding out about her yet. Not until she’s completely on my side … and pregnant. Then and only then will we be able to survive this unscathed and come out on top.
Her eyes have turned completely cold. Her body trembles in place.
“What do you think happened to the guard who tried to touch you?” I ask, tipping up her chin. “Or the elder wife who hurt you in ways I never thought would happen? You never saw them again, did you? They never walked around the premise, never came to any of the breakfasts or lunches, never attended any of the events. Now you know why.”
Her lips quivers. “So that’s how you uphold the rules …?”
I release her from my grip and walk away. I don’t enjoy seeing her in pain … like she’s terrified of us. Of me.
“This is the price of our community,” I say. “The price of perfection.”
“Perfection? People are forced to do things they don’t want to,” she rebukes.
“The people out there follow us willingly,” I say, looking at the window. “They know the rules, and they live by them. We didn’t force them to do anything. They chose us to lead them a long time ago.”
