Page 35 of The Preachers' Promise
I flip out, trying to elbow and kick out at him, but my movements are sluggish and ineffectual. My pants are halfway down my legs now and only hinder my movements. My panties are still in place, but they won’t be for much longer.
Carter laughs. “You know you’re only turning me on.” His fetid breath brushes over me, making me want to vomit. “I’d think you’d be grateful someone wants you, with your ugly scar and scrawny body. You’re going to feel what a real man can do for you.”
He shoves me forward, until my legs hit the bed, and then he folds me over it, using his bodyweight to pin me down.
Over the pounding of my heart, the blood rushing through my ears, and my muffled screams, I hear something.
Did I just hear my name?
I could have sworn someone outside asked which room Ophelia Sinclair was in, and, in my distraught mind, I’d heard them say it in Roman’s voice. I know I must be hearing things.
After all, if my brain can conjure up the Prophet’s voice, it can sure as hell create Roman’s.
The ugly truth is, I’m alone. No one is here to save me.
18
ROMAN
The corridors seem endless,and masses of people, who I assume are patients since they’re all wearing the same pink outfit, hurry toward me. There’s no use in hiding. I’m here to find Ophelia, and I remind myself that I’m dressed as a member of staff. That should give me some authority over the patients. They all seem dazed and frightened, but I don’t know if that’s their normal state or it’s because I’ve cut the lights.
I silently ask the old gods for guidance, to show me the way to Ophelia.
They’re disappearing through the doors lining the corridor, one by one. I assume they’ve been given instructions to return to their rooms until the power is returned. That means Ophelia has most likely returned to her room, too. The problem is, how the hell do I know which one she’s in?
One of the patients stops right in front of me.
“How long are we supposed to stay in our rooms?” the young man asks. He’s skinny, his blue eyes pale and unfocused.
He clearly thinks I work here.
“Until the lights come back on.”
He’s not suspicious of me, and none of the other patients seem to be either. Truthfully, they are too drugged up to care,and I bet lots of temporary staff work in these places. I just need to ask where she is.
I try to get the attention of an older woman, but she’s in a daze and doesn’t seem to notice I’m there. A girl closer to my age catches my eye. I’m drawn to her, though I can’t say why.
“Do you know which room Ophelia Sinclair is in?”
She narrows her eyes at my question. “Why?”
Her gaze is focused, and she’s a lot sharper than the other patients in her scrutiny of me.
“She needs help.” I keep my reply deliberately vague. I don’t want to announce I’m here to break her out, but I also don’t want to say something that might prompt this girl to hide Ophelia’s information from me.
“Room one-oh-four.” She jerks her head down the corridor. “Door on your right.”
“Thanks.” I hope she’s there.
I sense the girl looking over her shoulder at me, watching me go. Is she wondering if I mean Ophelia harm? Does she want to protect her? I’m glad Ophelia already has people here who are looking out for her.
I find Ophelia’s room, but I don’t bother to knock. If she’s there, we’re not going to have time for niceties. We’ll need to get the hell out of here before anyone realizes something is going on.
Cracking open the door, I stick my head inside and freeze.
For a split second, my brain doesn’t compute what I’m seeing. Do I have the wrong room? There’s a man on the bed. But then I see he has his pants halfway down, and I catch a glimpse of white-blonde hair and a slender body pinned under him. She’s struggling but unable to move due to the way he has her bent over and held down.
I don’t think. I just react.
