Page 43 of Regressive

“For what?” I whisper.

“For a blessing.”

I’ve done this before. Everyone in Serendee has been blessed by Anex—it’s an honor—one we usually receive at ceremonies. I bend my knees, resting them on the hard floor. He stands above me, my eyes level with the seam of his crotch. Never before has it been like this—with his erection bulging against the fabric. Or if it was, I didn’t know what I was looking at.

God, I was so naïve.

No one touches you without my permission.

I hear Rex’s voice as his father’s hand comes down on my head. He murmurs, words I can’t fully make out:girl, Enlightenment, The Way, peace and succumb. Rambling on as his hand moves, cupping my cheek and lifting my chin.

“Is there anything you need to confess to me?” he asks. “Anything weighing on you?”

He knows. He knows about Elon and the computer. The search for my mother. The information we have. He knows and he’ll use it against me and I open my mouth to tell him everything. I close my eyes, listening to the thrum of my pulse in my ears, my chest, feeling his thumb graze over my bottom lip.

This is wrong—he is wrong. I do not belong to him. I belong to Rex. To Elon, Silas, and Levi.

I understand that more than ever.

But this man is my leader, he has been my entire life, and no matter how scared I am, or how wrong this feels, I’m frozen under his power. He tilts my face upward and I look into his eyes—wincing at the similarity with his son. Except there’s something missing—the deep intensity that Rex and I share. The connection.

What I see in Anex’s face is disturbing want—the same kind that sent the blood rushing to his erection. I know that look now. I understand it from my training. Anex doesn’t view me as a member of the community—or his son’s mate. He sees me as something he wantsphysically.

My breath catches and his other hand shifts, moving to the front of his pants. It’s in those mere moments I see my future flash before me. Anex forcing himself on me. Rex discovering it. The fallout. Bloodshed. Loss. Destruction.

Footsteps echo in the hallway outside the door, breaking me from the spell. What I can only describe as The Way, surges through me and I jolt to my feet.

“Thank you,” I mumble, cheeks hot. Anex doesn’t move, doesn’t react as I race from the room, ignoring Melody dropping paperwork into his mail slot.

I run, passing my desk, out into the streets. I don’t stop until I’m at the path that leads back home and only then do I stop to retch, the contents of my stomach, of mysoul, trying to flee my insides. Nothing about me is good, or better, and soon the whole of Serendee will find out, and what will I do then?

19

Levi

The creakof the door wakes me, followed by the sliver of light that vanishes with the sound of the latch sliding in place. I sit up and blink, “Who’s there?”

“It’s me.” Her voice is quiet. Small.

“Imogene.” I rub my eyes, trying to rouse myself. “What are you doing? What time is it?”

“Late,” she replies, her voice closer. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“How come?” I’m groggy. The day had been long—filled with courses and a game of basketball that lasted past 3 AM.

“I can’t stop thinking about all of the Lapses I’ve accumulated over the last few days. All of the Indulgences. The Regress—” The violations rush from her, like a dam breaking under pressure.

“Stop.” I sit all the way up, the mattress squeaking under my weight. In the dark I feel for her, fumble for her hand, and pull her to the bed. “Sit.”

The bed sinks, warmth brushes against my leg. I pull back, cock already hardening. What man hasn’t had fantasies of a beautiful woman coming to him at night. My blood pumps through my extremities, but there’s a hard truth mixed with it. She doesn’t want me—she wants what I dole out—punishments.

“Talk to me,” I say, my eyes finally acclimating to the moonlight coming through my window. “Tell me what’s going on.”

She shifts, hands clasped in her lap. She’s not wearing a cotton, Serendee approved nightgown, but a Rex approved nightie, lace and satin. The soft brush of light highlights the swell of her breast and holy—my balls clench.

“It started when Rex asked me to do some research for him.” She tells me about what Rex wants. Information on her mother, Camille, so that he can search for the truth about Beatrice. Like a breeched dam, the information pours out of her, the revelations spoken in whispers, only revealed in the dark.

I understand why. If anyone is going to report her back to Anex, it will be me. And admittedly, the impulse is strong. The urge to run to the Main House and tell our leader all of the darkness, all of the deceit screams in my veins. I was raised to be an informant.

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