“You sure about that, firecracker? You know I take good care of that pussy of yours.”
Rolling my eyes at the nickname, I hug the chair I’m straddling a little tighter, not ashamed of the heat his promise creates. Mac and I met at a party a few years ago when I’d been looking to have a night of rebellion, an escape from the suffocating religion in my life. It was lust at first sight with Mac and I, we both had the “no bullshit” attitude, neither of us looking for a relationship. We became close friends with benefits—benefits being I get free tattoos in exchange for help around his shop and someone I can be real with and get real in return. Also, the amazing orgasms when the need arises doesn’t hurt. It’s the best and only friendship I have.
“I can’t,” I answer again with a sigh. “Moms’ forcing me to go to another church with hopes that it will save my soul.”
Shaking his head, all too aware of the craziness that is my family he argues, "I still don't get why you won't just stay here with me. You know I got that spare room upstairs." he says wiping away the ink and blood one last time. Letting out another sigh I sit up and cup my bare breasts, my shirt laying somewhere around the shop, I make my way to the full-length mirror and point out the obvious that he already knows "They know this is the only place I go... they'd find me and drag my ass back."
After my first night of rebellion where I lost my virginity and gained my first tattoo, my father had shown up, having tracked me somehow, and all but carried me back home. A lot of bad things happened that day, but so did a lot of good. The latter being that I had learned that no matter how hard my dad hurt me, he couldn’t take away the tattoo already on my skin. And no matter how many times he forced me to my knees in prayer, he couldn’t make me a saintly virgin again. That’s when I found my power and gained a little sense of myself. When my obsession with ink and sexuality began. “I just have to put up with it a little bit longer. I almost have enough of my own money saved from all the odd jobs I do to run away and never be found, to live my life without being considered cursed or the Anti-Christ,” I answer out loud then whisper to myself as I stare at my reflection, my pale skin littered in color, my green eyes open to freedom, my red hair as wild as my soul “I can just be me.”
Turning my back to the mirror, I look over my shoulder to admire the new addition, his movements catching my eye. “You would miss me, troubled child,” Mac teases as he stalks towards me. The soft fabric of his shirt brushes against my hands that still cover my breasts. “So rebellious with her tattoos and piercings. So sinful with that dirty mouth and tight pussy.” he continues as he trails kisses along my neck. Letting the goosebumps he leaves consume my body, I stare in awe at my new ink—the back silhouette of an angel with bloody broken wings stands strong on her bare feet. “Do you like it?” he asks gripping my hips his whispered question against my ears draws heat to my core. I pull my gaze from our reflection to him, his lips now only a breath away from mine.
“I love it,” I answer watching as his tongue wets his bottom lip. The silver on his lip ring shines in invitation.
Striking out, he grips my bottom lip between his teeth. “Stay,” he growls inhaling my moan.
Giving in to my desire, I melt against his hard body. “Okay, but only for a few hours.”
THE SHOUTS BEGIN THE second I walk through the door. “Where have you been, Harlow? Do you have any idea what time it is? We were supposed to be on the road five minutes ago! Harlow!!” My mother’s screams follow me as I push past her and race up the stairs. I definitely fucked up by falling asleep at Mac’s last night. Making it to the bathroom, I shut the door letting the solid wood cancel the shrieks.
Not how I wanted this day to go... but then again, the fact that I'm being forced to have my soul saved in hopes I become the obedient daughter of God is already a recipe for a day in hell.
Letting out a sigh, I turn the shower on and strip away the clothes from yesterday when banging on the door causes my heart to stop. Before I even have a chance to cover myself, the bathroom door flies open, the wood splintering as it slams against the wall. “Where have you been?” my father demands, his large frame taking up the entire entryway.
I learned a long time ago that it didn’t matter how perfect I tried to be for my parents, I would never be good enough. Through the blood, sweat and abuse of punishment after punishment, I finally realized that I was going to be beaten regardless of what I did or didn’t do. So, I focused on being myself, giving them a reason to scar me, instead of becoming a shell of who I wanted to be. Pushing past the fear he puts in me, I lift my chin and brace myself. “I was out with friends. Father. I just lost track of time.” I answer, doing my best to cover myself with my arms and hands.
Sneering at me, his eyes travel down my body, a look of disgust on his face as he takes in the tattoos that have accumulated over the years, each one earning me a beating that I’ll never forget. “I hope you enjoyed your freedom while you could, Harlow,” he says with triumph in his voice. His cryptic words leaving me with a feeling of dread. “You have five minutes to get ready and be downstairs or else I’ll drag you to this church naked. Try me, little girl, I will not let you embarrass me in front of the community anymore.”
“If I’m such an embarrassment, why keep me here?” I ask, pushing the hurt away. “You could wash your hands and be rid of me.”
Fire flashes in my father's eyes, and I can see the debate he has with himself on whether he should hit me now or later for questioning him. "If I let you walk away and give you all control to ruin your life then I look weak to the community. I have to be in control of my house in order to keep my place under God." he answers, a cool almost cocky mask falling across his features, shocking me. Never has he ever been so candid with me, and not because he doesn't like me knowing the truth—I know how much pressure the community has put on him—but because he's never felt the need to explain anything to me.
Something doesn’t feel right.
Before I even have a chance to press him further, a smirk forms on his lips as he pivots. “Now you have three minutes... I’d make them count if I were you.”
Chapter Two
The rough terrain under the car tires jostles me awake. We’ve been on the road for most of the day, the setting sun leaving pink and orange hues in the distance. After I rushed through my shower, I barely made it to the car with both shoes on before my time was up. As soon as my seat belt was buckled, it became clear real quick that this wasn’t going to be a normal trip to some religious shrink. Neither one of my parents would speak to me. No matter what I said or how many times I asked where we were going, I was met with silence.
Taking in my surroundings as we pull into an open wheat field, I note the few cars parked in rows along the pushed down grass. The eeriness of the darkening pit makes it seem like we’re sitting in the middle of a crop circle.
“Where are we?” I ask again, the shakiness in my voice giving away my unease, but I’m met with the same silence. Paralyzing anxiety trickles down my spine as warning bells go off. “Mom? What’s going on?”
Opening the car door, my father gets out and my mother follows suit. Before closing the door and without meeting my eyes she whispers, “Just get out of the car, Harlow.”
Fear, anger and regret sits heavy in my stomach. Regret for not just staying with Mac, anger at the secrecy and hate my parents have for me, and fear of where that hate has brought me. Sliding out of the car, I wrap my arms around my waist. My skinny jeans and tight long sleeve shirt do nothing to keep the exposed feeling at bay. Searching for my parents, I find them walking through a small opening in the thick crop. A part of me screams for me to run, but the rest of me says that it's already too late. And as I follow my parents into the dark unknown, my suspicion is confirmed. Feeling like I'm being watched, I glance over my shoulder to find a dark figure standing at the entrance of the walkway. The sun that sets behind the stranger electrifies the blood-red robe that covers whoever hides beneath it.
What. The. Fuck.
Gritting my teeth, I lift my chin. Determined not to let them see my fear, I flip off the form standing there and continue through the narrow path.
Fuck them all, whatever this is I don’t want any part of it.
Having lost sight of my parents, I continue on until the path opens up into a bigger circle then the one we parked in. The unease I feel skyrockets as I take in the scene before me. Lit torches surround a platform stage where four chairs sit behind a long table, a microphone stand sits in the front center. People dressed in the same blood red robe as the stranger take up three of the seats leaving one empty. Two rows of wooden benches span out in front of the stage, the right side is littered with people who sit dressed in white all facing forward, not moving, as if they’re in a trance. The people on the left fidget in their seats, looking like they just came off the streets. A few kids no older than ten sit next to their parents playing with broken toys, their innocent minds not noticing the stink of tension in the air.
I find my parents talking to a man dressed as a priest, his dark eyes on me, a sensual evil smile tugs at his lips as he nods at whatever my father says.
I want to run. Nothing about this feels right, something tells me if I don’t go now, I will never be the same.
Just as I’m about to give in and make a break for it, my father calls out my name, demanding my presence.
Fearing the consequence of not obeying, I move to where they stand.
“Father, this is my daughter, Harlow.” Placing a heavy hand on my shoulder my father pushes me towards the strange man. Only an inch of air hangs between my chest and his. The man is attractive, but his presence feels dark.
“Harlow,” the man purrs repeating my name, his voice rich and seductive. Reaching for my hand, he holds it flat between both of his. “Such a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m looking forward to getting to know you, the real you, not the sinner that stands before me.”
“Excuse me,” I begin, caught off guard, but before I say anything more, he drops my hand and addresses my parents.
“Please have a seat and enjoy the service, everything is already prepared so you’re not to worry. We will take care of everything.”
Watching him leave I grip my father’s hand before he can dismiss me. “What is this?” I demand through clenched teeth. Tears threaten to fall as several alarming scenarios run through my mind.
Pulling his hand away, he steps up to me and grabs my chin in a painful grasp, smiling as a lone tear slips down my cheek.
“This is the beginning of us saving your tainted soul, my daughter. This is your salvation.”
Moving his grip from my chin to my shoulder, he steers me to our seats in the front row. With the sun fully set and the only light coming from the torches around us, the crop circle feels like it’s closing in.
Taking the stage, the leader of this cult stands before the mic, scanning the crowd. A figure emerging from the shadows catches my attention. Silently, the cloaked person who had been watching me earlier takes the empty seat next to the other three who haven’t moved from their position.
“Welcome to Invictus; God’s unconquerable!” the priest shouts opening his arms wide. As if on cue the four sitting behind him lift their hoods, revealing the four most attractive men I’ve ever seen. It’s a dangerous attraction though...the kind that sirens use to lure you into the depths of death. One by one, I take them in, leaving the one who had been watching me for last, subconsciously knowing he will consume me. I can feel his hard gaze on me without meeting his eyes, and when I finally do my breath catches, as if his stare alone steals the air from my lungs.
“Tonight is a night of introduction.” The Father continues giving me the distraction I need to pull my gaze from the stranger. “Tonight is where you decide if you are ready to truly save your soul and become a child of God, or if you want to stay on your path that will lead you straight to hell.” My brows furrow at the ridiculousness of his statement. “This is not an easy path where you just dunk your head in holy water and pretend like your sins are washed away! This is not a place where you can repent your sins hidden away by a screen! This is the only true way to become pure! God himself came to me and blessed me with his sight of true salvation. And this path will not be easy. These stages to redemption are meant to push you, they are meant to make you bleed for your sins. Those of you in the left row, look to your right.” Already knowing what I’m going to see, I study the men on the stage, their arrogance hangs like fog around them. How could anyone truly believe this shit? Feeling my stare on him, the Father sears me in place with a glare full of malicious promise as he continues. “Look at the purity in their souls, they glow with the touch of god. If you choose to follow me, this life of sin you are living now will become your past. You will be given a second chance. You... will be mine.”
Chapter Three
I watch her. I read her every move; her every expression, like she’s my favorite book.
The rest of Father Azrael’s service goes by in a blur, I hardly hear a word of it. All I can think about is the girl who dared to give a cloaked stranger the finger in surroundings she knows nothing about. Everything I read about her is right if not slightly understated. This girl was sent from hell to be my ultimate challenge.
I rake my eyes down her body, the temptation to see the defilement I know is hidden under the long sleeve shirt is great, but I’m a patient man. Her natural red hair curls wildly around a face that is free of makeup.
The obvious disdain for what she’s seeing and hearing awakens a side of me I didn’t know I had. I want to chase her; I want to break her... I want to turn her world upside down only to right it again and become the center of it. I want to save her soul. I want to be her savior.
That single thought has me stifling a groan. My brother next to me coughs reluctantly pulling my attention away from the seductress.
“You alright, brother?” Gabriel asks, his eyes traveling from the girl to me.
Gabriel was the second boy Father Azrael found and like me had been living on the streets. He had the hardest time adjusting to this life, his belief in God had been long gone by the time we found him, but after the purge he became a loyal disciple to Father Azrael. The twins, Josiah and Noah, are the youngest. They were both found in a church orphanage crammed into a room with twenty other kids. Father knew they were the ones to complete our family, out of all the soiled starving children they were the only two who didn't cry and didn't beg. They just sat there with uncanny knowledge in the depths of their young eyes.
Together we are the four disciples to Father Azrael, and together we will save this world.
“I’m fine,” I answer, but the thickness in my voice shows my struggle.
“She’s pretty.” he states matter-of-factly. “You can see the blackness of her sins.”
“I know,” I growl through clenched teeth.
“But you can also see the pureness of her soul.” he adds, surprising me. Letting my gaze run over here again, l I find her watching us, curiosity along with anger and fear swirl like whirlpools in those green depths.
“You are mistaken, brother,” I say holding her stare, daring her to submit and smirking when she does—her eyes falling to her lap. “The pureness you see is a disguise. Pull back the veil she’s fooling you with and you’ll see the snake hidden underneath. You must be strong, Gabriel; we need to break her in order to save our church; our religion.”
Silence stretches between us for a minute. Father’s voice carries on as he closes his sermon. “Father says this is to be your challenge, and yours alone, but you must listen to your heart, Matthias. Not Father, nor the scriptures.”
“What are you saying?” I ask defensively. Speaking against Father’s wishes is unacceptable. But my harsh tone doesn’t faze him, his calm gaze holds mine.
“Just trust yourself.”
“Now!” Father Azrael’s final words draw our attention back to him. Gabriel’s concerning statements are p
ushed to the back of my mind for now. “If you choose to stay and become a part of Invictus, then take this first step and join my faithful disciples up on stage.”
Taking our cue, my brothers and I stand. My body buzzes with anticipation of what is coming. This is it. This is where my test begins.
One by one the people in the left row rise and come to the stage, but the girl stays in her seat. I catch the fire in her eyes as her dad forces her to her feet. I wait for her to snap, but she doesn’t. With his hand firmly on the back of her neck, they move to the back of the line. The tick of her jaw visible from here. Giving my attention to the first person who stands on the other side of the table in front of me, I speak the prayer, lay the bread on her tongue, give them a sip of wine and move to the next, my brothers doing the same. With each one she gets closer, my first task causing anticipation to stir in my gut.
Finally, it’s time.
With only her left, Father distracts the new members of Invictus from what’s about to happen, but I can feel his true focus on me.
Forced to stand in front of me, by her father I grab the glass of wine specifically for her. Placing it on the table between us, I finally meet her eyes. Defiance and hatred roll off her in waves, and I can’t stop the smirk that spreads across my face.
“Welcome, Harlow,” I say, pleased when her eyes widen in shock.
I know a lot more than just your name, my little sinner.
“Do you wish to be a part of Invictus? To cleanse your soul and become one of God’s unconquerable children?” I ask in a way that almost begs for her defiance.
And I’m not disappointed. “No.” she growls through her teeth. The hand her father still has on the back of her neck jerks her back forcing a small cry from her lips. That desperate sound shoots blood straight to my dick, the lust hitting me hard. Gabriel, having seen my struggle moves closer to my side.
Thou Shall Not: A Dark Ten Commandments Anthology Page 6
