Abigail pats the enema table and waves me over. “Glad to see you back in training.”

That makes one of us. I climb up and assume the position as Mary, the most devout Maiden, takes the table next to me.

Abigail futzes about with the water while the other Maidens form a ring around the teaching Spinner.

“Today, we’re going to address the subject of strap-ons,” she announces, her face reddening.

I let my head hang between my shoulders, ready to block out whatever the Spinner says next.

“Delilah.” Mary leans toward me.

“Yeah?” I turn my head in her direction.

“What was the Rectory like?”

“Why? You intend to go there?”

Abigail spreads my cheeks, and I clench my teeth.

“No, of course not.” She frowns. “I just wanted to know, is all.”

“Curiosity will get you sent there, so I’d mind my business if I were you.” I suppose she thinks I’ve forgotten about how she prevented Sharon’s short-lived bid for escape. Not a chance. I look for the strawberry blonde in the crowd. She’s along the back row, her head down, her hands clasped in front of her, her ribs protruding. Sharon’s time in the Rectory ended before mine, but the results are the same.

“I just wanted to—”

Abigail smacks her ass, and Mary yelps. “No talking on my watch. No ma’am.”

I take a little satisfaction in Abigail’s uncharacteristically rough treatment of Mary. Maybe she remembers Sharon’s escape attempt, too. I can’t be entirely sure about Abigail. Is she devoted to the Prophet? I have no doubt of it. Does she like the way the Cloister operates? I think she has misgivings, at the very least.

She could be useful, but I’ve never gotten her to open up more than the day when Grace broke my finger. I still wonder what she meant by Grace visiting someone at night. Who?

When she pats my lower back and says “release,” I let go of the warm water, and she cleans me up, then shoos me over to the training session. Eve is on all fours, her eyes clenched shut, and Susannah is on her knees behind her, a purple dildo strapped to her with black leather.

“Do not penetrate her maidenhood,” the Spinner warns, then guides Susannah forward until the shiny purple tip presses against Eve’s asshole. “This is a skill that plenty of men will appreciate. Many like to give and receive, and with a strap-on device, you can bring him ultimate pleasure. Of course, the female anatomy is different, and lacks the prostate, which is what you will be aiming for whenever you perform this act.” She walks over and grabs a small bottle of lube from the implements wall, then hands it to Susannah. “You’ll need to lubricate every time.”

She spreads the lube and follows the Spinner’s instructions, pushing halfway inside as Eve’s tears plop onto the mat beneath her. I wish I could help her, could make this needless torture end. But I can’t. Not yet.

And the worst part is—the humiliation doesn’t even faze me anymore.

* * *

After a lunch where I spend far too much time staring at Sarah’s empty seat, Grace pulls me from class and orders me to dress in the same high-necked gown from my last visit to the Prophet’s house. My stomach is queasy, my food turning to acid as I follow her out the back door and onto the same golf cart that takes us up to the house. We walk into the warm basement, and I already hate the familiar scent of the house.

“If you pull another stunt like you did last time, it won’t matter what your suitor wants, I will punish you.” Grace grabs my chin and yanks my face to hers as the back door closes. “Are we clear?”

“Clear.”

“Good.” She releases me and leads me up to the main floor and back to the same sitting room as before.

I sit in a different spot, but it doesn’t stop my heart from raging in my chest, my blood pounding, and my breaths coming in quick bursts.

“Get it together.” I wipe my sweaty palms on my dress and peer around the room. Maybe there’s something in here I can use. A weapon? That wouldn’t end well, given Grace’s threat, but I don’t care. I won’t let him use me like he did the last time.

Footsteps in the hall raise my hackles, but I let out a breath of relief when Adam strides in, his walk a little off.

“What is it?” I stand and take a step toward him, but he shakes his head at me ever-so-slightly, his eyes hard.

I return to my seat and lace my fingers together.

“I’ll be overseeing your joining with Evan.” His voice is cold, and I know it’s an act, but it doesn’t stop a chill from racing down my spine.

“My joining?”

He lets out a bored sigh. “You never seem to have a hearing problem during our sessions at the Cloister.”

“Ass,” I hiss.

He smirks but continues, “Evan is to be treated with respect at all times. He’s your future husband…” He pauses at that, the mask cracking, but gets it together. “You are expected to please him in every way. His word is law. The only person he answers to is the Prophet. You will follow your husband’s word to the letter and be in perfect obedience. If you fail to do so, there will be punishment.”

I glare at him and cross my arms over my stomach.

He moves closer, but doesn’t touch me. When I reach out, he steps back and glances at the ceiling fan, then gives me a pointed look.

Right, cameras.

“I won’t tell you these rules again. If you break them, be assured that Evan is well within his rights to dole out your punishment as he sees fit. Perfect obedience is the only way for you to remain in his good graces. Do you understand?”

I nod.

He approaches and tilts my chin up, his touch gentle even as he barks, “I asked you if you understood.”

I jump. “Yes!”

I catch the scent of his soap and the unease in his eyes. His broad back blocks the camera, and I turn my head and kiss his palm. The ghost of a smile graces his lips, and he slides his fingertips along my jaw, softly stroking my cheek before letting his hand fall back to his side. “Good.”

Without another word, he turns on his heel and strides out. Low voices in the hall reverberate into the sitting room, and I settle deeper into the sofa, looking for any sort of defense the furniture can provide.

When Evan walks in, I sink farther, hoping for invisibility that I know won’t come.

“Don’t be like that, darling.” He smiles broadly and sits next to me.

Too close, he slings his arm around my shoulders.

My ears go hot, my hands cold, and I can’t seem to catch my breath.

“I have that effect on women.” He pulls me into his lap, his arms locking me in place.

I can’t escape. My heart is trying to claw its way from my chest.

“Shhh, calm down. I’m not going to hurt you. All that from yesterday is done.” He squeezes me. “I promise.”

Breathe, breathe, breathe.

“And I’ll even forgive and forget about that little move you pulled on me, okay? We can start fresh.” His easy southern drawl and All-American good looks don’t fool me. He’s a demon underneath, one that wants to eat me alive. “Shhh, now. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

I force myself to relax, to just be, even though he’s got me trapped. Untethering is the only way. I close my eyes and go somewhere else—Georgia’s room at her parent’s house. Warm sun, a fluffy comforter, and notebooks with her drawings and my writing spread out all around us.

“Do you think I could, I don’t know, draw for a living?” She has a swipe of blue ink on her cheek, but I don’t mention it.

“I think you can do anything you want to do.”

She laughs, mistaking my earnestness for sarcasm. “Well, I think you can, too. What do you want to do, anyway? You decided on a major yet?”

I twirl my pencil. “Yeah, I think I want to be in law enforcement.”

She gawks. “A cop?”

“No.” I shake my head. “More like CSI. I like figuring things out, you know?”

“Makes sense.” She adds a dash of pink to one of her drawings—it’s of a dress with fantastic lace and ribbon, too girly to be true. “You’ve always been good at solving mysteries.”

“Darling.” He tucks my hair behind my ear. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head and pull myself back to the present. “What do you want?”

“Straight to the point, aren’t you?” He smooths one hand down my thigh.

I pinch my lips together.

“Not going to talk today?” He grabs the fabric of my dress and pulls it up until my knee is exposed. When his palm rests against my bare skin, I shudder. “I bet I could make you talk.” His hand creeps up my thigh.

“Don’t.”

“That’s better.” He stops his progress and returns his palm to my knee. “I’d like for you to tell me your real name.”

I look straight ahead at the piano. “The Prophet gave me my real name. Delilah.”

He shrugs. “I suppose Delilah Roberts isn’t such a terrible name, is it?”

When his hand starts to creep again, I say, “No, it’s fine.”

“You’ll learn to like it... And me.”

I turn and meet his light blue eyes. “Just because you buy me doesn’t mean you own me.”

“And there it is.” He grips my knee. “That little bit of something extra. How have you managed to keep it in the Cloister?”

I silently curse myself for failing to play along. “I’m no different than the other Maidens.”

He tsks. “Not true at all. You’ve got some fight. I like that.” He shifts so I can feel his erection pressing against my ass. “I’m paying for that.”

I try to edge away from him, but he holds me tight.

“Stop.”

“Fuck, I love it when you say that.” He grabs my hair and presses his lips to mine. It’s ugly—our teeth clacking and his tongue sliding across the seam of my mouth. I won’t open for him. He pulls my hair harder, his other hand going to my throat.

I grab his wrist and dig my nails in.

He smiles against me. “More of that, my darling.”

“Fuck you.” I fight his grip, but he’s far stronger. “You’ll never have me.”

“I’ll have you so many ways.” He yanks my head back. “You won’t be able to move without thinking about the things I’ve done to you.” His warm breath presses against my ear. “I can’t wait for you to fight me, to beg and cry, to tell me no, and then give in.”

“Never.” I grit my teeth.

“Soon.” He relents but doesn’t let go of my hair. “But I came to see you again today because I’ll be out of town for a bit. D.C. doesn’t stop—not even for the holidays.”

I narrow my eyes. “I’ll cry every night.”

He laughs, and it sends ugly chills racing through me.

“I’m sure you will. But when I get back, you’ll be coming home with me. A New Year’s gift for myself. I truly can’t wait.”

I want to tell him his “gift” has already been given to Adam, but I don’t dare. My rebellion can never go that far. I can’t risk Adam, not when he’s working on a way out.

“My flight leaves in an hour.” He sets me on the couch next to him, then rises.

I don’t look at him, not even when he takes my hand and kisses the back. “Until next week, darling.”

Movement catches my eye, and I find Adam standing in the doorway, his anger barely contained. I’ve never noticed the vein in his temple pulsing until right this second.

When Evan turns around, Adam’s ire changes into a light, fake smile, which is somehow even scarier than the open murderous rage. He walks Evan out, but reappears quickly, rushes to me, and grabs me by the front of my dress, yanking me up hard.

I cry out as he shakes me. “Don’t ever speak to your suitor that way again!” His voice carries, likely to the Prophet’s ears, but I don’t miss his grin or the quick squeeze of my hand or the faint brush of his lips against mine that I can feel all the way down to my toes.