Page 71 of The Preacher's Pet

Cain’s jaw drops. “Can’t she just say no?”

Roman shakes his head. “She can say no during the chase, and what happens after, as much as she wants, but that won’t make us stop. In fact, we want her to scream and cry and try to get away, because this needs to be as real as possible, if she’s going to fear us and what we’ll do to her more than she does the Prophet. But deep down, she’ll have the safe word, and the moment she utters it, we stop everything.”

It seems crazy to me that we’re even considering this. Surely, Ophelia is never going to go for it.

But my cock twitches in my jeans as a fresh rush of blood hits it. The idea is beyond intoxicating, and I hate that I want it so much.

“I assume we’ll be wearing our masks?” Cain asks.

Roman nods. “Of course. That makes us scarier. Not the robes, though. We need to run. We’ll still perform the ritual. I can’t pretend to know if the Prophet’s voice is a product of her mind, or if he truly has some kind of power. There are things wecan never understand on this Earth, but I believe either way, if we do this right, we can help her.”

I bite my lower lip. “When will we tell Ophelia about our plan?”

We glance over at her sleeping form again.

“When she’s ready,” Roman says. “When she’s strong again.”

39

OPHELIA

I spendthe next week feeling like a pampered princess.

The men dote on me, bringing me all my favorite foods and drinks, giving me foot massages, and playing with my hair. There’s nothing sexual in it—something I’m a little disappointed about—but I don’t push it. We watch hour after hour of movies, all snuggled up together on the couch, and they teach me about all the classic flicks I’ve missed over the years. My favorite is one calledArmageddon, and they hand me tissues as a sob my eyes out over the ending.

I feel strong enough to attend the occasional class, though one of the Preachers either sits in the class with me or stands in the corridor outside, ready to leap to my rescue if I need them.

It’s clear word is getting around that they’ve somehow claimed me as their own. Camile has messaged me, asking if I’m okay, since she can’t catch me on my own long enough to ask in person. I do my best to explain to her that whatever problems I have aren’t caused by the Preachers, but by something, or someone, else entirely.

I understand her concern, though. The Preachers are hugely overprotective of me. If someone even glances wrongly in my direction, they act like the person just pulled a knife on me. Forthe most part, people leave me alone, which is fine by me. The other students know to give the Preachers a wide berth, and it would seem I’m now considered to be one of them.

I don’t mind being thought of that way. I’m finally a part of something I want to be. Yes, the Preachers are a little freaky, but then so I am.

The one fly in my soothing ointment is the presence of the Prophet in my mind. It’s not quite as powerful as it was that morning when I looked at myself in the mirror, but it’s still there. It’s part of the reason I don’t initiate anything sexually with any of the guys. I can’t bear to touch them in that way with the Prophet whispering in my ear. It makes me feel like I’m being watched, as though he can see out of my eyes and knows exactly what I’m up to.

I also haven’t pushed Roman to know his plans for helping me. I have some idea that it’s going to be a repeat of what happened the other night, only this time he’ll stay and be involved, too. I’m nervous with anticipation—not only for the part that involves having sex with Roman—but because I’m terrified their plans won’t work for me this time either.

There’s a hidden side of me that wants them, too, and I think they want me in the same way, but we all know it’s wrong, so maybe this is an elaborate game for us to make it okay to ourselves.

There’s a tiny part of me that’s able to smile above the fear. Maybe that’s the idea, and they’ll just keep creating more and more elaborate orgies until the Prophet has no choice but to vanish into the ether. It could work, too. Perhaps there’s a level of sin I will reach that’s so damn high, I’ll either burst into flames or finally be free.

Between the foot massages and movie marathons, I can tell something is building. I sometimes catch both Cain and Malachi widening their eyes at Roman, silently asking him something.I’m sure that something is about me. A part of me wants to question it, but the other part knows they’ll talk to me about it when they’re ready.

It’slunchtime on Saturday when that time comes.

We’ve all just eaten pizza—the guys moaning about my choice of olives and anchovies as toppings—and now we’re playing cards. The atmosphere is easygoing and relaxed, so I’m thrown when Roman makes an announcement.

“I think it should be tonight.”

I put down a card. “Think what should be tonight?” But I already know by the instant change in atmosphere as Cain and Malachi both sit up straight.

“Our second try.”

My stomach flips and my heart races. “Really?”

He nods solemnly. “Yes, really. It’s time.”

I throw down my remaining cards, leap from my seat, and hurl myself into his lap. His eyes widen in surprise, and I plant a kiss on his mouth.

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