An hour went by. My core burned from holding my bottom off the ground. Finally, the chaise slowed, passing through thick walls of stone, metal, and magic. A spell dragged across me, which must have alerted someone to my presence, but the chaise continued forward. I kept my eyes and ears sharp. We passed through buildings, but no other horses. No feet.
We stopped. Dark-green magic crawled over the marble stairway to my left; to my right, shadows pooled thick as tar. The chaise lifted as someone stepped off.
“Welcome home, son.” The words scratched the air, dry and sharp enoughto cut.
I couldn’t see Cayden or the speaker, but the tension choked the air.
“You’ve tethered her. My son. My pride.” Each pause scraped my nerves raw. “A woman worthy of our God. Strong. Too strong.” The man let out a sound, half laugh, half growl, that curdled my gut. The walking stick struck a steady executioner’s drum. “Make her one of us tonight. Claim her.”
My blood chilled, and I forced myself to breathe.
“Take me to Quinn.” Cayden’s tone didn’t waver, but frost coated every word.
A cane thumped, and footsteps pattered.
“She’s been prepared for you…” the raspy voice said. Every hair on my body stood on end. “…Wanton and waiting on the observation deck.”
Rage narrowed my world. Red. My fingers dug in until the wood splintered. Someone bent down and ran a hand along the bottom of the chaise, nearly brushing my shoulder. I caged my rage. Forced my breath steady. No cover here. No shadows leaned into the dark night. If I dropped, someone would see me and take me out before I could stand.
The hand vanished, and the chaise rolled forward again. Using the noise as cover, I buckled my sword belt back on. The chaise came to a stop, and a man rushed back the way we had come, without unhitching the horses.
Cayden had described his compound as impregnable… but this was anything but. What the hell was I missing?
My TB glowed faintly, too far out of range to work, but still filled with a stream of unread messages about my home.
I reached for my lover to report. Silence met me—absolute, heavy, wrong.
Chapter 40
Cayden
Iwalkedslowly,fingersbrushing each enchanted item and gem I’d pulled from my void. My TB now rested where my gems had been, far away from the prying eyes of my family. Four of my brothers in orange and yellow robes flanked me. None of them had been at the Mixer with Emil.
No guards had watched the outer gates.
We walked past dark halls, usually filled with light.
Something didn’t feel right.
‘Where are you?’Rowan demanded in my mind.
‘Focusing on something else; piss off,’I responded, surprised our connection was still strong miles apart.
The Prophet demanded a strict curfew on his compound, yet my journey through the building was suspiciously quiet. It wasn’t that late; I should have seen at least a few brothers roaming. The silence thickened, pressing in, but I kept my focus.
‘Just… come back when you can.’
My heart softened. My friend missed me. ‘That is the plan.’
My Prophet thumped his cane before dragging his too-slow steps farther into the building. The pattern repeated, maddeningly slow, each drag grinding away at my control.
I’d spent days memorizing every secret passage in the Architect’s Castle, yet I didn’t know if there were any in my family’s sprawling Victorian manor house. The only exit through our walls I’d ever used was the front gate. Until my daughter, it had never occurred to me to leave.
But that was the power of a cult leader.
My Prophet’s words echoed in my head: ‘She’s been prepared for you. Wanton and waiting.’
His statement made my blood rush below my belt, and shame ate at me. It was wrong, so wrong. I’d been conditioned, forced to crave sexual appetites that left women powerless. Quinn would look exquisite in my ropes. I took deep breaths and forced the fantasy not to form. The familiar red and gold walls of my home laughed at me. I had to get Quinn out of here, and then I needed to reassess everything.
