Page 92 of Spark of Madness

But even as my lips part to tell him this, I can’t force out any sound other than a moan or a whimper, and I’ve never been so ashamed of myself.

He makes me feel shame, yet I let him.

I don’t know how much time passes as we remain this way, my weight slumped against him as he strokes below and circles above. He works faster, drawing out my quickened breaths and desperate pleas, and then he slows again, stops altogether, then starts from the beginning.

It feels like forever and no time at all when he slowly pulls his hand from my panties and covers my breast with the lacy fabric of my bra.

He lets out a breath that’s like fire against my scalp as it rustles my hair. “It’s time,” he says, and my heart drops like a lead ball, breaking past my ribs and falling heavily into my stomach.

I turn to face him and our eyes meet. I expect to see heat, but I don’t expect to see regret. The recognition of it is jarring, and it nearly makes me want to cry. I press my eyes shut and focus my attention to the wetness he created between my legs, the throbbing of my swollen clit, and the need for touch that prickles beneath my skin.

Stay out of your mind andfixed on your senses.

It’s as good advice as any going into such a horrible event. My mind has always been my own worst enemy, so maybe I’ll make it through the next seven hours if I keep myself out of it.

Maybe Arlo knows what I need more than I do.

He bends to grab his leather gloves from the floor, but he doesn’t put them on. When he rises, he sucks his fingers clean, the regret gone from his eyes and replaced with fiery desire.

“My focus will be intent on you tonight. I’ll take care of every need you have before you even know you have it. You will survive this, starlight.”

My heart grows wings at the nickname.

I know I can’t trust him; I shouldn’t. But somehow, I have faith he will take care of me; at least, in the ways I can’t fathom needing caretaking in an event such as this trial.

It’s the first of three, and though I know I’ll survive this trial—even if it breaks me emotionally—I also know I’ll be dead soon enough, and none of this will matter.

The way he sparks lust, the way he makes me hate him, the way he makes me feel so ashamed of myself, the way he claims me…none of it matters. I’ll let him have this control over me because it makes no difference to my fate to deny him.

Because somehow, I can’t bring myself to deny him.

chapter thirty

Arlo

I LEAD MERCYdown the grand staircase in her undergarments, still wearing her black servants’ boots. My heart thumps painfully against my ribcage as I spot my brothers standing around the tile starburst in the center of the foyer. All of them are there, waiting for Mercy, except for Theo and Owen. Killian, Ryker, Wesley, and Park turn their heads, watching Mercy as I lead her like a lamb to her slaughter.

Words I never expected to think about the Trials of Dissension blast into my mind—thoughts I’d never expected I could have for the punishment faced by a true sinner.

Depraved.

Abusive.

Abhorrent.

Something primal within me roars with the need to lift her over my shoulder and run from this place, far and fast. But there’s nowhere to run. Even if there were, I know what’s really happening within me.

It’s the demon within her. The part of her that makes her sin has embedded in my heart, and it claws at my conscience. It tells me all the things I’ve always known to be good and godly and true are wrong.

It lies.

It can’t be that everything I’ve ever known is wrong. It can’t be that the doctrine, the Impulse, the Edict, the laws, and rules we uphold as members of the Control are wrong.

They’re not.

They can’t be.

Regardless of the connection I have to her, she’s a sinner and she brought this upon herself. This is the punishment she’s earned. It’s her penance. It’s her only chance at forgiveness and for her soul to be saved.

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