Chapter 5 Malachi
Malachi
The sun streams through the small window in the kitchen, and I glance outside. The morning dawned brightly. If only it could lift my mood.
Cain has had to contact his father again to get the okay for us to take the armed guards out of Verona Falls and to wherever the hell the location of the cult is.
He hasn’t managed to get through to him yet, so he’s waiting on a call back, and Cain doesn’t like waiting, or anything to do with his father.
He’s acting like his skin is too tight and he wants to crawl out of it, so he’s gone for a run.
Truthfully, I don’t blame him, and I don’t think his stress is caused purely because of his dislike of his dad because I feel the same way.
Everywhere I go in my own fucking space, I feel eyes on me.
Judgmental, concerned eyes, watching out of a pale face.
A face that I’m beginning to really dislike.
I understand Daisy is important to Ophelia, and I’m trying not to judge her in return because she’s been through hell, but the way she’s staring at us as we move about the place is disconcerting.
I’m trying to prepare breakfast, and she’s there, watching, again. Her gaze nervously flicks between me, Roman, and Ophelia as if trying to solve a puzzle. Part of me simply wants to turn to her and say, we all fuck her at the same time, satisfied? But Ophelia would have my balls if I did that.
Instead, I grit my teeth and plaster a smile on my face. “Do you want hashbrowns with your bacon and eggs?”
We’re going to need something substantial in our stomachs before we face what’s ahead of us.
We have less than forty-eight hours until this apparent mass suicide is due to take place.
There’s a lot to put in place before then.
We’re probably delaying more than we should, but none of us can face getting back on the road just yet.
It’s not even been a full day since we’ve been back at Verona Falls, and we’re still recovering.
Plus, we can’t go anywhere without the okay from Cain’s father.
Trying to take on an entire cult with only the three of us is a bad idea, and the armed guards won’t leave without their boss’s say-so.
Daisy nods. “If you can spare it.”
She’s wearing another one of Ophelia’s dresses, but it fits her badly because she’s bigger than Ophelia. Not that she’s particularly curvy, but Ophelia is so petite, she makes most girls look big in comparison. She keeps tugging at the material and adjusting the neck and hemline.
Roman slept with Ophelia last night, while I was relegated to the couch because of Daisy’s presence. I’m tempted to sprinkle some sedative herbs in her food so she passes out for the rest of the day, but I don’t.
As much as I hate it, we need her.
Judging from the loose and easy way Rome has about him, I’m guessing he had a better night than I did. Not that I begrudge him that; he’s been through hell.
“Why do you have so many armed men?” Daisy blurts as one passes the window.
Ophelia sighs. “For protection.”
“They’re all for you?”
“They’re for all of us, and that includes you now, Daisy.”
She frowns, her brow creasing. “Why do I need protection?”
“In case the Prophet comes for you,” I reply for Ophelia.
Her frown morphs into something else. Embarrassment? I can’t tell, and I can normally read people pretty well. This girl is hiding something; I’m sure of it. I’m not at all certain how truthful she’s being. What if her asking us to go help at the cult is a ruse to get Ophelia back there?
She’s Ophelia’s friend, but can we trust her?
I suppose it doesn’t matter because that fucker needs dealing with one way or another.
I’d prefer to have the element of surprise—and if Daisy is here at the Prophet’s request, we’ll be losing that by going back there with her.
But doing nothing could mean the entire cult dying in a mass suicide pact.
Unless, of course, that part is a lie, too.
Can we take the risk, though? If she is telling the truth, and we ignore her, a lot of people might die.
Even someone like me, who isn’t the biggest fan of humanity in general, couldn’t deal with that.
The idea of what it might do to Ophelia is overwhelming. It would wreck her. Ruin her.
No, this is the path we are on now, for better or worse.
My mind supplies the next line of that well known verse. For richer or poorer. Marriage. I look at Ophelia, and something twists in my heart. I have an image, just a flash, of her marrying all three of us. She’ll be wearing white and looking ethereally beautiful as she smiles at us.
The thought makes me hard, which isn’t surprising because everything to do with Ophelia these days makes me hard.
Hard cock, soft heart, addled brain, that’s what I’ve got these days because of her presence in our lives.
Not that I’m complaining. I love how she makes me feel, it’s almost like being drugged.
She brushes by me, and I catch a touch of her scent riding on the air behind her, like a faithful foot soldier. Coconut, I think, and a touch of something floral. It makes me want to bury my face in her neck and inhale before kissing her throat softly and holding her to me.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why did her friend have such shitty timing?
We’ve been through hell. We’d lost our Pet, and we all need longer than only yesterday to reconnect with her. Forever wouldn’t be long enough, but one afternoon? And now what? We have to pussyfoot around her friend before we head off into more danger and mayhem? Just fucking peachy.
We should be spending this time screwing.
Ophelia pours glasses of juice and sets them on the kitchen table. Daisy takes a sip of hers, and her eyes roll back in her head like she just had an orgasm.
“Gosh, that’s divine.”
“You don’t have juice at the cult?” I ask.
“At the what?” Her retort is sharp, and there’s an edge of panic to it.
It tells me she understands exactly what the hell that place is, but she doesn’t want to face it.
I get that. Denial is a huge part of being in a cult, and just to question the leader is an abomination.
And truthfully, one could argue that some of the mafia organizations and families act like cults.
They have their own hierarchies, outsiders are shunned, and they put their faith in one leader, so perhaps we aren’t so different after all.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “Your community, I meant. You don’t have juice?”
“Not often. We have apple juice, from the trees in the orchard, but we don’t have whatever this is. It’s really delicious.”
“Mango, peach, and orange,” Ophelia supplies with a happy smile. “It’s my favorite.”
“Is it a sin?” Daisy asks, taking me by surprise.
“Why the fu—fudge would it be a sin?” I ask.
“Well, if it’s just for pleasure, it can be a sin. We shouldn’t indulge. It’s not right.” Daisy purses her lips.
“It’s not a sin.” Ophelia’s tone holds some impatience for the first time while interacting with her friend. “It’s full of vitamins, so it’s good for you. The taste is just a happy coincidence. Okay? You can drink it.”
“Okay.” Daisy grins and glugs half the glass back in one go.
I finish making the food, and Roman serves the plates, and we all sit and eat.
Conversation is stilted, with none of our usual banter.
Instead, Daisy asks all sorts of questions.
She asks about the college, and the courses, and she asks about my nails, which makes me laugh.
She says that women aren’t allowed to paint their nails in the commune, but she didn’t realize some men did it.
“There’s all sorts of ways people like to express themselves,” I say.
“Do you always paint them black?” she asks.
“Mostly, yeah. I did a deep blue once. But yeah, mostly black.”
“Does it mean something?”
I’m trying to formulate an answer when Cain saves the day by bursting through the door brandishing something in his hand.
He’s wearing only running shorts, his shirt tied around his waist. His skin is tan and covered in droplets of sweat.
I almost laugh at the way Daisy’s eyes go round as she eats him up.
She might not be quite the good girl she thinks she is.
Cain grins as he walks farther into the living space, and I see why. Behind him is Camile. She smiles and waves, her pretty face all happy and friendly. Camile is a sweetheart, really, and I often wonder why she’s never ended up with someone.
“Look who I bumped into,” Cain says. “She wanted to come see you, Ophelia.”
He goes to Ophelia and bends down, giving her what he had in his hand. “I got you this, too. Thought you’d need it.”
“You got me a phone!” Ophelia exclaims over the item as if it’s a diamond ring.
“You need to be able to contact us. I’ve put our numbers in there.”
Ophelia beams, and for a moment, I’m jealous that it’s not me eliciting that happiness. She thanks Cain again and then turns to Camile. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, I did.” Camile steps forward. “Well, actually, I wanted to come and see you, too, Daisy. Cain told me all about the journey you’ve made and how brave you’ve been.”
“Oh.” Daisy’s lips pinch, as though she can’t quite believe those words came out of Cain’s mouth.
Camile offers her another warm, friendly smile. “I wondered if you’d like to tour the college with me. I can show you around. It’s truly beautiful.”
“With Ophelia?” Daisy asks, glancing over at her.
My jaw flexes. When is this girl going to take the hint?
“Ophelia has to work for a while, on that paper, right?” Camile looks to Ophelia, her eyes widening slightly.
Ophelia catches on quickly. “Yes, right, I do, Daisy. My studies are still important. I mean, you can hang around with the guys…”
Daisy shudders—she literally shudders as if we’re snakes and spiders, not men. “Oh, no, that um… I don’t think…”
“Great,” Camile says with forced cheer. “So it’s settled. We can take a tour of the college and a walk in the woods. You like nature, right? It’s stunning here.”
“I like nature,” Daisy says, cautiously.
“And there’s the most amazing old hallways, and art, and books in the college.”
“Sinful books?” Daisy asks.
Fuck my life, this girl is so screwed up.
“Um, no. I don’t think so. Mostly academic books and the classics.”
“What are the classics?” Daisy asks.
“You know? Hemmingway? Austen? Those sorts of books. Old books.”
“Oh, old books.”
A sudden light fills Camile’s eyes. “Oh, yes, and we have some very old, and rare, religious texts, some of which are English Bibles, in the collection. You need to ask to see them, and they ask you to wear gloves, but maybe you’d like that?”
“The Bible isn’t correct,” Daisy says sternly. “About God and the rules of life, but yes, I’d be interested to see old books.”
“Thank fuck,” I mutter under my breath, earning myself a glare from Cain that screams don’t you dare fuck this up.
“Right, then. Let’s go.” Camile claps her hands. “You’ll love the college so much.”
“Now?” Daisy asks uncertainly.
“Well, as soon as you’ve finished your food.” Camile shifts from one foot to the other and lines appear between her eyebrows. “I can come back in thirty minutes.”
“I guess I’m finished.” Daisy looks at her plate as if it’s a mountain she’s about to climb. “I’m too full for much more.”
She’s barely eaten half.
Camile smiles. “Okay, then, so, shall we?”
Daisy doesn’t get up. Her face is pale and pinched. She glances around at the rest of us. “But shouldn’t we be leaving soon to return to the commune? Time is running out, and I’m worried about my family.”
Cain checks his cell. “I’m sorry, Daisy, but I still haven’t heard back from my father. I think he’s in a different time zone. I promise, as soon as we get the okay from him, we’ll get on the road and go to your family. In the meantime, we might as well make use of the time we’ve got.”
Daisy looks to Ophelia, who nods. “Camile is a good friend of mine, and she’ll take care of you. You’ll be okay, Daisy.” Then her face softens, and I see the moment her empathy for her friend has won over her desire to be with us. “I can come if you want.”
My heart sinks, but that seems to reassure Daisy, and she glances at the three of us, then flicks her gaze to Camile. “No. It’s okay, Ophelia. I’ll be fine.” She laughs. “After all, I’ve traveled a lot the past few days on my own.”
“I swear, no one will bother you when you’re with me.” Camile shrugs. “My besties here are with some guys who basically rule the college.”
I don’t bristle at that because I have no desire to rule this fucking place. And she’s not wrong, in their own way, the Devils and the Vipers do rule. In Dom’s case, he very much does now that his father is giving him more responsibility.
“I’ll have you back here before lunch,” Camile says. “I also have some clothes you can borrow if you want. You look about my size.”
“Clothes?” Daisy looks down at the dress of Ophelia’s she’s wearing and smiles. “Like yours?”
Camile grins. “Well, they are mine, so yes. Same style as this, and different, I have all kinds of clothes.”
“Wow. Really? In all colors?”
“Most colors, I think.”
Daisy’s smile is genuine, wide, and it lights up her face.
What is it with women and clothes? Even after being hidden away in a cult for years and, I presume, not seeing fashion on television or social media, Daisy still brightens at the idea of getting to wear colorful clothes despite having been told it’s a sin.
“Jewelry, too,” Camile adds. “I don’t mind if you borrow some. You’d look really pretty in one of my necklaces.”
Daisy’s joy evaporates a little. “We’re not supposed to adorn ourselves. It’s sinful to be prideful, but your jewelry does look so pretty.” She sighs.
“Well, you don’t have to, but if you do borrow some, it can be our secret.”
Daisy nods. “Maybe. The clothes, though, yes, please. I’d like to borrow some.”
“Come on.” Ophelia links Daisy’s arm as she stands, rounds the table, and heads to the door. “Be back in a couple of hours, guys.”
That’s good to know. It gives us enough time to make Ophelia ours again. I feel as if we’re losing her to the past, and that won’t do at all.
As soon as the door closes behind Daisy, a sense of oppression lifts from the space. It leaves a strange vacuum, but not for long. Something else is simmering under the surface, about to replace it.
Lust.