1. Hellish Purpose
AURORA
“ G ive me more.”
There was a time when that order would’ve been said in a different tone. When it would’ve meant something entirely different.
When Ryan would’ve been sweetly demanding more of my stolen kisses. Or urgently demanding more of my body as he touched me with adoration and desire.
But it’d been years since that’d happened.
Years since he’d touched me in that way.
Years since he’d acted as a lover rather than a pastor and an inconvenienced guardian.
I couldn’t even remember the last time we’d kissed.
“That’s all I have,” I quietly admitted, knowing he wouldn’t be pleased.
“That’s unacceptable. This is the second week in a row that you’ve failed to deliver. Sunday services are tomorrow, and I have next to nothing.”
I can’t force the visions to come.
I’ve tried.
A shudder rocked through me at the memory.
If giving Ryan nothing was already bad, telling him a lie had been hell. I’d made a fool of him. I’d risked the life that he’d so carefully built for us.
I’d failed.
And I kept failing.
I tugged at the roots of my long hair like that would somehow activate my curse.
“Really?” His cold brown eyes glared into my own brown ones—courtesy of the colored contacts I always wore. “You’re starting with the dramatics like this is somehow my fault?”
Run.
I need to run away.
My brows lowered at the errant thought.
Leaving had never crossed my mind before. No matter how lonely I got. No matter how broken I felt. No matter how bad things were, I knew they could be worse.
So much worse.
Like he’d somehow read my mind and the insane idea that’d gone through it, his demeanor changed. His expression softened and warmed. His tone became gentle. “I’m just trying to help you, Aurora. I need to keep you safe from those who would harm you. If it weren’t for me…”
He didn’t finish his thought, but he didn’t have to.
The scar on my chest was a daily reminder.
Ryan pulled me into his hold, and I wanted to melt into him.
I tried to melt into him.
Starved for the connection I rarely got, I wanted to savor being wrapped in his arms, but my mind refused to cooperate.
Run.
Run in the woods.
The woods? I hate the woods.
At my rigid body, Ryan’s own body tensed.
Unlike Pastor Gideon, Ryan didn’t use violence to deal with disrespect.
There were more effective—and far worse—methods he utilized to get me back on my godly path.
An image of me in the prayer room popped into my head.
It was originally a broom closet, but Ryan had modified it into a soundproof space. I couldn’t stand upright in it due to the shelving. I couldn’t sit comfortably due to the size. My only options were to stoop or sit with my legs curled up until my body went painfully numb.
The darkened silence was meant to give me the opportunity to pray for forgiveness, but I couldn’t take the seclusion right then. Certainly not hours of it on the empty stomach that was supposed to bring me enlightenment.
Thankfully, that image wasn’t the only one I received.
Knowing I would make him happy—that I hadn’t failed at all my duties—I smiled up in the face of his irritation. “Mr. Daniels will be up on the second level, sitting in the third row. He is going to quit his job this week, but he shouldn’t. The company will be sold off soon, and he’ll get a severance package. He just needs to be patient.”
Ryan nodded, and I could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “That’s what I’ll focus the sermon on. Everyone could use the reminder that patience is a virtue to give.” He squeezed my upper arms, and it was one step below painful.
One very small step.
“And a blessing to receive,” he finished before using his hold to march me from his office and through the house that was far too big for just the two of us.
I’d tried asking for a pet to keep me company, even something small like a gerbil. But Ryan didn’t like the wildlife to step a paw, hoof, or claw onto his property outside. He’d laughed in my face when I’d asked to adopt something that would live inside.
He didn’t stop propelling me backward until we stood outside of the prayer room.
Panic filled me, tightening my muscles until my bones ached. “But I?—”
“You what ? You waited until the last minute? You barely gave me anything? Agreed. And this isn’t the first time. It’s a pattern now, Aurora.” Ryan’s grip was firm, but his voice was tender. His wounded expression filled me with guilt because I’d let him down. But also because my evil thoughts had said to run. “I gave up everything for you . I left my family and life behind and moved to Georgia to help you . Because God said this is where you needed to be. I’ve been understanding, but it’s like you’re not even trying to repent for your wickedness. And clearly, I’m not the only one who feels that way. God is unhappy.”
“Maybe the lack of visions is because He is happy,” I tried. “Maybe they’re going away because God is ending my curse.”
“I wish that were true, but the decrease is because of you. You don’t believe hard enough. Your faith in Him and my purpose is faltering.” He inched me back. “This isn’t a punishment. This opportunity to connect with God without distraction and interruption is a gift. I only want what’s best for you. You’re lucky to have me.”
And then the door was closed, cutting off all light and sound.
I did the best I could to calm my sharp, frantic breaths as I reminded myself that Ryan protected me. He’d been doing so since the day he’d helped me escape the Gideons. He was simply doing his best to use my hellish gift for heavenly purposes in an attempt to save me. If it weren’t for him, who knew what would’ve happened to me.
Who knew what would happen to my soul.
“I need to go to church today.”
Ryan’s expression hardened at my uncharacteristic demand. “It’s my job to tell you what you need.”
I lowered my gaze to the stove as I cooked. “Of course. I’m sorry, I misspoke. Do you think I need to go to church today?”
He came up behind me, and it took everything in me not to tense. I held my breath, not wanting to smell it.
Smell her.
Whoever she was that time.
When he’d finally released me from the prayer room late the night before, the smell of perfume and sex had clung to him. It hadn’t been the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.
Pastor Gideon and the others under him had taught that men were base beings. That God had created them to provide and produce, and if they were led astray, it wasn’t their fault. It was their wife’s job to keep them content and other women’s jobs to not be sinful jezebels.
Since Ryan and I weren’t even married, he wasn’t breaking any vows or heavenly covenants.
With no choice but to fill my burning lungs, I inhaled and only smelled fresh soap and his favorite cologne.
“Did you get a vision yesterday?” he asked.
I didn’t.
Usually in the solitude of the prayer room, I was overwhelmed with bizarre and nonsensical visions that left me with a splitting headache and an ache that ripped apart my chest. The day before was different.
Worse.
Like my brain wanted to remind me, the only bizarre thought that’d echoed through my head hit me again.
Run.
Run in the woods.
“Yes.” I wasn’t sure if I was a good enough liar for him to believe me since it wasn’t something I ever did, but I had to try.
Usually, I loved staying home by myself—so long as the prayer room wasn’t involved. I would watch the sermons as they streamed online. Then I’d read. Take a bath. Try to revive my fledgling, mostly dead garden.
I’d do whatever I wanted to do in the quiet sprawling house.
Faith Connections leadership believed people needed to see how God had provided divine favor to his voices on Earth. No one would trust a leader who struggled paycheck to paycheck. They would think that they hadn’t earned provisions or protections. The pastors needed to show off their joy and peace and material gifts like their homes, the newest fashion, and the finest cars because all of them were God’s blessings. It proved to the flock that they were worthy of being followed and gave them something to reach for.
Stay righteous and worthy, give and sacrifice, and you too will be blessed with a house of splendor.
One that, for whatever reason, was beginning to feel like a gilded prison.
I pushed the lie a step further. “It showed that I needed to be closer to your flock to connect with them.”
The silence stretched and grew tenser—or maybe that was just me—as I turned off the burner. As always, Ryan dished out the food. He loaded the single plate with the egg white and veggie frittata. Contrary to his insistence on healthy eating, he also added three pieces of heavily buttered toast and one dry slice. The dry piece would be mine, along with whatever he didn’t finish from the egg dish.
I reached for the plate to carry it to the breakfast bar for him, but he stopped me.
Cupping my cheek, he tilted my head. At the intense way he scanned my face, an apology began to form on my tongue.
For trying to deceive him.
For being ungrateful enough to want to flee the luxurious house he provided.
For being his burden.
“You can come,” he said finally. “But you know the rules. Stay in the back. Do not talk to anyone. Understood?”
That would be easy.
I hadn’t spoken a single word to anyone but Ryan in a long time.
Not since it’d almost cost me my life.
Climbing from the car, I used my hand to block the sun as I stared up at the massive building in front of me. It didn’t look like a church. There was no weathered signage that required someone to manually change the message from a box of letters. No small garden overrun with weeds because it was tended by elderly volunteers with bad knees. No cracked concrete and aged beauty of an old building.
With its staggering size and multiple parking lots, Faith Connections looked like an arena for concerts or sporting events.
It was a far cry from the tiny church in Arkansas where Ryan and I had met.
It seemed improbable that all that space was necessary, but it very much was. Within hours, every single seat would be filled by people who wanted to hear God’s voices on Earth speak. And none drew a flock like Ryan. Despite his young age, his impassioned and charismatic sermons had earned him the spot of lead pastor.
Maybe this is why something told me I should be here today.
I needed the reminder of how lucky I am that a righteous man like Ryan would help a cursed sinner like me.
As we walked inside, curious eyes landed on me. When they moved to Ryan, they changed to looks of awe and pity for the handsome pastor who was stuck with the mute ward.
It made my skin itch to feel their attention on me.
Panic spiked in my chest, and I pressed my lips tighter together so I wouldn’t accidentally speak. My colored contacts were in, but I kept my eyes aimed downward anyway. And though the neckline of my dress was high, I fought the urge to pull it up even more so to ensure my scar was hidden.
Regret clawed at me, but I pushed it down. I had to be there.
I just had no idea why.
Ryan guided me through the space to the backstage area. He pulled a chair from a stack and settled it out of the way so I could watch the services from the side. “Remember the rules.”
I began to nod before freezing. Flowing water filled my head.
It was followed by the random order to run, but I ignored that part.
Grabbing his wrist, I tugged him close to barely whisper, “Stream.”
His head tilted as his brows lowered. “There’s nothing special about this sermon.” His expression morphed to one of disapproval, and he kept his own voice low. “You didn’t give me much to work with.”
I widened my eyes in a silent plea.
For forgiveness, always. But also for him to listen.
Thankfully, he did.
“Okay, I’ll make sure it’s streaming,” he said distractedly.
I gave a firm nod and watched as he walked away.
A feeling of rightness settled in my heart.