Page 7 of Kings Fear No One
…but it’s a face I could tell would be pretty in less grim circumstances. In a less fucked up moment where she was put together and not covered in bruises and scrapes.
She’s on the shorter side. Pear-shaped and curvy in an enticing way.
But there’s nothing enticing about this. It can only be described as the depraved fucked up shit that it is.
Yet we believers sit obediently in our pews and pretend we’re not disturbed.
The woman’s thrown to the floor of the altar. She lands right at the Leader’s feet. He peers down at her with his cold, emotionless eyes, then steps over her like she’s an inconvenience.
My hands curl into fists in my lap.
“Saints and believers, we have a new companion in our midst,” he announces. “We searched far and wide for a woman with the purest heart who would join our mission. Behold—we have found her!”
Everyone rows back cranes their necks for a better look. A few murmurs break out.
The woman has sat up and tried to scoot away. Xavier nudges her with his boot to keep her in line.
“Silence!” the Leader calls. “It is time the ceremony begins. We have gathered today to welcome our new believer to our family, where she will be cherished and loved as we are all cherished and loved by each other. The bond we have formed is only outmatched by the bond we have with our sacred Leader and Lord.”
Several of the saints and believers nod and mumble along, drinking in every word he speaks. I’m the only one glaring, fighting off the pulse of anger that throbs inside me.
Me and the woman.
She’s looking up at the Leader with tears streaked down her cheeks and horror widening her eyes.
“And now, we will bear witness to another sacred bond,” the Leader continues, his slivery voice echoing. “The bonding of a man and a woman. Believer Logan, step forward.”
2
LOGAN
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the Leader says to the room full of Chosen Saints. “You will now drink the matrimonial red wine that signifies the family bloodline you will create.”
I’m handed a goblet. The woman, whose name I’ve learned is Teysha, is given one too. She stands opposite me, averting her gaze. She stares anywhere but at me and the Leader and anybody else in the room.
We’re the enemy. Her captors.
If she had any idea how wrong she is.
I’m not one of them…
“Drink,” the Leader commands.
I blink and realize he’s repeated himself twice now. Cause for punishment if he’s in a bad enough mood.
I bring the goblet to my lips and swallow down the wine in a few short gulps. It tastes of bitter sour grapes mixed with something chemical. Some ingredient that shouldn’t be in wine. A drug to make us more complacent.
It’s a taste I’ve noticed several times before. During past ceremonies where I’d been forced to consummate a bond with the woman chosen for me.
Teysha’s here ’cuz the last bond fell through. Grace hadn’t been able to take being captive another second…
I keep my expression neutral while consuming the wine. Teysha makes a face of disgust, stopping after only a mouthful.
“Drink,” the Leader repeats. His teeth clench and his eyes flash with warning.
She chokes on the rest of it. A couple droplets slip down her chin and splatter onto her chest. My attention’s drawn to the area—she’s busty to the point of distraction, and the wine slides down the cleft between her breasts. Breasts that are only halfway visible due to her blouse being torn and muddied.
My gaze lifts a couple inches to her throat. A golden cross pendant dangles from the necklace she wears. Her real religion.
