Page 11 of Tyrant

Only after going to the police, I had a newfound fear. That they’d eventually go after the followers and take my daughter away for good. Another thing tearing at my mind was that now Josef would for sure know where I was and come searching for me. So, I hid out. I started going to the shelters because I had nothing to my name but the clothes on my back. I had no way to find the help I needed, or anything for that matter, as I’d been essentially removed from society for years.

I had no friends any longer, my contacts all gone as they’d no doubt graduated college to move on to live their bigger and better lives they’d all talked about back when I knew them. They never cared that I was religious, as most of them were aswell. However, when I moved back with my parents and Josef took control of my life, I had it in my mind they weren’t pure enough. That they’d never make decent future friends because I was moving past them spiritually in many more ways than they were ready for. I should’ve known then I was the one making the mistake by closing them all out.

What’s one thing you’re taught at a young age? To not allow anyone to seclude you, to always include others in tasks, including your life. When I began going to the library and researching, it helped open my eyes more than what they had already been. I learned one of the first moves of a legitimate cult is to alienate and seclude people from any outside support.

I wasn’t only reading romance novels and complaining about sucking dick while I was there. No, I was hiding out, doing homework on myself, as well as allowing my mind to slip away into another world where everything ended up in a happily ever after. I had to read those romance novels. It wasn’t a simple want; it was aneed. I needed to feel hope again. I needed to read about others finding something so pure and wholesome, such as love in another person and not have their lives crushed in the process. They helped me heal. All of the books, not just one genre or the next, but all of them brought me something I required inside to work through my debilitating circumstances.

I also had to spend some time in healing solitude. I couldn’t handle being around other people, and I swore my trust had been broken in every person for the rest of my life. Yet, here I am, finding comfort in a man the size of a mountain.

Love doesn’t hurt.

The thought runs through my mind, mocking me. Tyrant hasn’t hurt me, but will he? Am I being blinded by his warmness, as I was with Josef’s charisma? I’ve learned time and again not to trust so easily.

With finality, I pull away. Instantly, I find myself missing the way Tyrant’s mouth feels against mine. There’s something about him that screams to me internally, even in the complete silence, but I can’t figure out exactly what it is, and it’s terrifying to consider.

His brows are raised as he parts his lids to meet my gaze. “That was…” he trails off, seemingly a bit dazed.

I don’t know what to say or do, except climb off the gorgeous hunk and straighten myself up a bit. I do so, as graciously as possible, my hand moving to my neck as I suddenly seem hot all over. I shouldn’t have kissed him, but it seemed like the right thing to do in the moment.

“You alright, Sugar?” he murmurs, adjusting to sit up while taking me in. I’m sure I’m blushing, red all over, yet I can’t find it in myself to cower away. If this were Josef, he’d amuse my boldness so long as I’d spread my legs for him; otherwise, I’d be shamed for it. I have a feeling Tyrant will do nothing of the sort, and I’m right as he grins when I nod. I’m lying, however, as I’m far from okay. It’s another sin to the congregation. I’m to be open and honest at all times, a clear vessel for HIM to do his work through me. I’m but a holy vessel, meant to be pure and truthful at all times.

My fingers move to my temples, rubbing as I try to pull myself from the obsessive thoughts. I think it’s because my routine has changed once more. I have too much free time on my hands to allow my mind to wander, which I’ve learned isn’t good for me. It’s another reason why I was reading all the time—to keep my mind full with happily ever after’s, hope, and that delightful feeling of serotonin pushing the negativity from my head.

“Thank you for earlier. You are truly kind. I will only use what I need so you can have them return the rest and get your money back.” It’s the least I can do to not feel as if I’m taking advantageof his kindness past what could be deemed acceptable in this particular situation.

He scoffs. “I want you to have it. Either it’s yours, or it goes in the trash.” He states with finality, and I don’t doubt him for a moment, although the wastefulness of it has me internally cringing after going all this time having next to none of it. “If you don’t have any jeans, you may want to wear the pair they picked out to the concert tonight. I didn’t know what exactly to say for sizes, just that you had to be small or medium in everything, and you are a pixie. So don’t be surprised if the stuff is too big or whatever.”

Tyrant’s description has me smiling. I don’t think anyone has ever called me a pixie; I’ve always been pretty average. At least, I was until my marriage. Josef only allowed meat and vegetables in the house, so I lost a lot of my curves. I’ve managed to get a few back from the poor, poisonous foods I’ve been eating on the outside, but my stomach is kinda sunken in from allowing myself to go hungry too many times to count. “It won’t matter, I’m happy with anything.”

He tilts his head, his arms crossing over his chest. My comment almost seems to bother him. “I’ve noticed, and I’ve also never met a chick like you before.”

I don’t say anything in response as the only truthful answer would give away information I’m not ready to share with him yet. His gaze skirts over me, but rather than making me self-conscious or creeping me out, I find it doing the opposite. My legs clench together tighter as I stare at him in return. His scruff shouldn’t be nearly as sexy as it is, but I find it to be one of my favorite things about his face. And then there are the neck and head tattoos. He’s covered in them, arms, fingers, and I can only imagine where else. He looks like a true heathen and would be shunned from the commune if he were to attempt to convert. Knowing they would turn him away only makes him moreattractive in my eyes, because it also means he still holds on to his own mind. He wouldn’t be one during a ceremony or sermon, screaming for discipline and pointing out transgressions.

I have a feeling he’d have been the one to step forward for me. To say it’s wrong and demand they stop.

I bet he could crush Josef’s skull with his own two hands.The thought shouldn’t send my heart racing in the way it does; it should positively terrify me. It doesn’t. I want to witness Tyrant do it, and that is exactly how I know I need to spend some time in solitary, praying for forgiveness from HIM, the only one who can offer me the lightness my heart needs so badly to keep beating. It’s hard finding a balance as to what I should be doing and what was expected of me with Josef as our Profit. I’m trying so hard to revert back to what I believed and how I worshipped the way I did before ever stepping foot into the House of Worship.

Chapter 8

Tyrant

We down another set of shots. I stare at her for a beat before leaning in. “You sure you are okay? You don’t strike me as liking heavy metal. You remind me more of a church mouse.”

I didn’t peg her for a drinker either, but maybe I have her all wrong. Earlier, when she’d kissed me, I was floored. Her mouth against mine was everything I’d been thinking of for the entire ride up to Las Vegas. But then she’d pulled away and I could see the wall within her irises rise up. She was no longer wanting my closeness, but rather needing me further away. I understand the feelings, probably better than she can fathom.

I half expected her to not come with me altogether. I figured she’d agree to the ride and then take off whenever we got close to a place she thought was interesting, then I wouldn’t see her again. She may’ve made plans to return with me, but they ultimately mean nothing. She’s a free woman, able to do as she pleases. I admit the thought bothers me, but who am I to ask her to stay with me?

I growl as a guy moves in, standing too close to her to the point she flinches away from him. He has to be an extra sort of dumb to miss my six-foot-five ass beside Blair. She smirks, grabbing my arm to tug me away. I suggested we get one drink, and now she’s insisted I take several shots while she’s had a couple in the process. “You’re not tipsy?” I can’t help but wonder.

“I’m not a church mouse; take it back,” she randomly orders, making me laugh while holding up her latest bar drink. I wonder if she needed some liquid courage, but then after she went for it, getting drunk suddenly seemed the thing to do tonight. Who knows, I can never figure women out.

I raise my hands in surrender. “It’s taken back, I promise. No mouse, how about a church kitty?”

She rolls her eyes, releasing an unladylike snort. “No church. Not anymore, at least,” she confesses quieter, but I manage to catch it. I’m about to ask her to elaborate when the lights flicker and the area rumbles from the surrounding speakers with Chris from Motionless in White talking. Smoke fills the air from the fog machines as he begins their set, and we’re both in awe. I’mcompletely amped up from seeing my favorite band live, and I think Blair’s in utter shock from everything. Rather than be worried about her not being able to handle it, I create a barrier so no one around us bumps into her. She gets some space, a chance to suck down her drinks, and take everything in at her own pace. The lights begin their crazy laser show and then fire bursts up from the sides of the stage. We’re in a trance, unable to look away from the various dynamics all happening in front of us. We’re close enough to see everything but not so much so we get crushed in the mob.

Midway through their show, she’s dancing around and laughing, claiming she wants to come back. It seems like a million pounds have been lifted from her shoulders, and she’s finally able to be herself. I’ve never seen a more beautiful smile on a woman before.

It's safe to say she’s let her guard down and I’m enjoying every minute of it. I finish off my beer, watching her jump around and dance terribly, being freer and more open than I’ve seen since we’ve met. I take the shots offered to me by the passing server, stuffing some cash in her hand in return. Then, I’m tossing two down my gullet and hold the last out to Blair. She grins, taking it and lifts the plastic neon shooter glass in salute, then brings it to her lips and tips it. The liquid flows into her perfect pouty mouth and I know then I want to taste her.

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