Judah tipped his chin, showing an heir of pride. “I have already schooled four through their awakenings.”

Feeling as though I had been punched in my stomach, I whispered, “No…”

“In fact,” Judah said boldly, “I have already picked a child to be my next consort when she is of age. She is so beautiful, so beautiful that for a while I feared she was another Cursed. But I am quite sure she is not.”

I stared at my brother, and for the first time in our lives I disliked him. I knew Judah was becoming enraptured with this life, and I knew he was growing closer to Brother Luke. But I did not realize just how close. I did not realize that the areas of my leadership Judah controlled were indulging in child rape.

“And your recent consort,” I asked, my voice breaking with a mix of anger and disgust. “How old is she?”

Judah glared at me, his brown eyes heated. “She is of age by our people’s standards, Cain. Do not concern yourself with that.”

“I wish to meet her,” I instructed, and Judah’s heated eyes flared.

“In time, brother,” he announced in return.

Our gazes stayed locked, a war of wills, when eventually I lowered my eyes and waved my hand. “Take the videos and the TV, and leave. I wish to be alone.”

Judah tensed, but did as I asked. I walked to the open fire, and stared into the flames, listening to him packing everything away. As I heard him wheeling the TV out of the room, I suddenly asked, “When you tried Delilah, the Cursed, did you adhere to our scripture? Were her punishments in accord with what we preach?”

Judah’s responding silence caused me to lift my head and seek him out. He was staring at me, face impassive. Then seeing me watching, he smiled and said, “Of course, brother. It was all by the book.”

As Judah left the room, I exhaled in relief that what Phebe had said about his treatment of Delilah was wrong. Then the returning nausea slammed in my gut thinking of those videos.

My back hit the wall. I slumped down until I hit the floor. The practice disgusted me, was totally abhorrent, but according to Judah it was my people’s way. It was a revealed message from the Lord to my uncle. Closing my eyes I sent a prayer to the Lord to send me a message, to council me on what to do. Then I thought of Mae again, and her words. And I now knew she had not lied. No. She had been taken as a child, her innocence stolen by a brother of The Order.

She hadn’t lied to me at all.

Chapter Fifteen

Maddie

Three days later…

Pressing my pencil to the edge of the paper, I pulled it back and took a long deep breath. It was perfect. This picture, this picture of us embracing, how I dreamed we could one day be, was straight from my mind. It was poured onto the page from my soul.

It was utterly perfect to me.

Tears welled in my eyes as I stared at the sketch. It was a war inside my heart. On one hand I wanted what it showed with every inch of my being, but on the other, it scared me more than anything else on Earth ever could.

Because over the last three days my thoughts towards Flame had changed. They had intensified. And I was thinking things I thought would never enter my head. Sleeping beside him each night, caring for him, talking to him, it had switched on something within.

It had opened my heart.

Hearing the door to the bathroom open, I abruptly shut the sketchpad. I placed it beside me at the fire and looked up. Flame was leaving the bathroom, dressed in his leather pants and cut. And just at the sight of him, looking healthy and strong once more, made my heart race.

Flame’s eyes immediately locked on mine and he walked forward, stopping just before me. I looked up and got to my feet. “Are you ready?” I asked and waited for his response.

Flame’s eyes darted to the front door, then back to me. “Yeah,” he replied, but his voice was graveled and unsure.

“You will be fine, Flame. And your friends have been waiting to see you. You are well now, and you need to go outside.”

Flame’s head dropped. I could not help but stare at his wide chest, at the colorful pictures staring back at me. Especially the bright orange flames climbing his neck.

Smiling in support, I walked toward the door, when I noticed Flame had not followed. Turning round, I noticed his focus was on the door behind me.

“Flame? Are you okay?” I asked.

Flame’s eyes had grown larger—a sign he was upset. “When we walk out of that door, will you be going back to Styx’s house?”

My stomach fell at the thought of leaving him.

“Maddie?” Flame asked again. From my position I saw Flame’s hands clenching into fists, then he rasped, “I don’t want you to leave me.”

The gruff timbre of his voice sent shivers of sadness shooting down my spine. But then as his confession seeped into my bones, hope sprung in my chest.

He wanted me to stay.

I stayed silent, trying to rein in these new feelings overwhelming my senses, when he called my name again. “Maddie?”

This time his voice had lowered in pitch, a sign that he was sad, defeated… losing hope.

Inhaling a deep breath, I raised my head and nervously confessed, “I do not want to leave either.”

Flame’s nostrils flared and he inched closer until, with too deep of a breath, our chests would brush. Flame stilled. I stilled. And I worked on fighting the heat suddenly roaring through my body.

“Then you’ll come back here. To me,” he said with finality.

I felt a smile tugging on my lips, and I replied, “Yes. I want to see my sisters. I have not seen them for days, but… but I will return, here. To you.”