Lilah’s blue eyes were huge as I spoke. “Yes,” she replied. I should’ve pulled back, but I couldn’t. Instead, I inched my lips forward, hearing her sharp intake of breath, her eyes squeezed tightly shut.
She weren’t ready. She was just so fucking fragile. So fragile that all I wanted to do was protect her, never let her outta my sight.
Fuck me, but she had me enthralled. I was eating, sleeping, and breathing for this very beautiful but very broken bitch.
Moving from the direction of her mouth, I ran my lips over her cheek, my bottom lip dragging on her soft skin. Lilah completely lost control of her breathing and her skin was hot to the touch. As a moan slipped from her mouth, I pressed a trail of kisses down to her chin, my lips brushing past hers.
“Fuck, Lilah,” I rasped out, chest heaving, all my control gone.
Lilah’s eyes snapped open and she stilled. Her tongue lapped around her lips, and I lurched forward to taste them, but Lilah pulled back, my hand dropping from the back of her head.
“I must… I must pray.” Lilah stumbled to her feet, took off for the embankment, and dropped to her knees, spreading her arms out wide, and five minutes later, head thrown back, she was in full flow, mumbling that bullshit “language with God.”
Lighting up another smoke, I sat back against the rock and stared, still tasting her vanilla skin on my lips.
Chapter Ten
New Zion, Texas
Prophet Cain
My people were here in their thousands as I walked down the aisle to the ceremonial altar. Men, women, and children all bowed to the floor as I passed, blessing my name and speaking in tongues as the Holy Spirit filled them with his love. I held my breath¸ trying desperately not to show my nerves.
Judah walked behind me, praising the people’s devotion with his hand on their heads, and the elders followed doing the same.
I approached the stage where three attractive young females awaited. They dipped their heads as I stood before them. Placing my hand on the top of their heads, I blessed each one.
“Rise,” I instructed. They immediately did as I asked. A red-haired woman stepped forward and gestured to the pulpit and the microphone.
I saw Judah nod at her in approval and had to ebb a smile. Judah had told me he was interested in a female. I assumed this was her.
“Your name, sister?” I asked, and her eyes widened in surprise. It still took me back by how my people were around me. They praised me, worshipped me, and I felt completely unworthy of it all. An imposter.
“Phebe, sir,” she replied with a slight tremor in her voice.
“Thank you, Sister Phebe,” I said, smiling.
As a blush crept up her cheeks, she covertly cast a glance at Judah. He indicated with a dip of the chin that she had done well. Sister Phebe beamed her joy.
Turning slowly, I faced my congregation and almost lost my footing. The sea of eyes staring back at me was astounding; row upon row of my followers seemed to go on for miles. The gravity, the sheer importance of my calling to these people suddenly hit home and, drawing in a deep breath, I walked to the microphone to do what I had been trained to do. With every step my legs shook, my breathing stuttered and a pit of unease ran through my veins.
Thinking through the speech that my council had helped me construct, I steeled my nerves and resolved to my fate, acted out the role I was expected to fulfill.
“My people, my heart is filled with the utmost joy as I gaze upon you this evening. We have all gathered here tonight to mark our new beginning, our genesis, here at our new home… our promised land… our New Zion!”
The people began to nod and smile. Conditioned to sit still until the prophet called for celebration, they obediently stayed calm and waited for me to speak.
“The past few months at The Order have been very difficult. Our faith has been tested and stretched to the very brink of our collective sanity. Many lives were lost. Our sacred first prophet was killed while practicing his duty to bring us God’s new revelations.” The men and women were openly weeping; sniffs and cries greeted my words. Strangely, those actions brought with them a sense of power, and I felt a sense of acceptance that I had never felt before settle within me. These people were lost. They needed my help. Fueled by adrenalin, I continued.
“But do not weep. Do not mourn for our fallen leader. He was the first messenger sent to us by the Lord, to teach us the path to righteousness. He is with the Lord now, content in paradise, and that is truly a blessed place to be. A place we will all one day be.”
The soft cries stopped, and I looked across to Judah and the elders. Their expressions assured me I was doing this correctly. Many thoughts ran through my mind as my hands shook with excitement. Maybe this was where I was supposed to be? Right here on this altar, dressed in ceremonial robes and preaching the Lord’s words.