She stepped into the shower stall with him, but kept her eyes averted. He shut the door, then reached for the shampoo. She tried to move out of the way so that he could access the jets of water, but he stopped her. He poured a bit of shampoo into his palm, then lifted her chin so that he could wet her hair.
She flashed a look at him. His eyes caught hers and wouldn’t release them. He was somber. Fierce. His eyes had the same edge in them that she’d seen when he looked at enemies. She blinked and looked away, grateful for the streaming water that camouflaged her tears.
He rubbed the shampoo in her hair, kneading her scalp. Some of her tension eased at his touch. He didn’t speak, didn’t ask questions. She was grateful she didn’t have to talk. She had no words left with which to defend herself.
She’d let them come to this point in their relationship without warning him away. Some things you just didn’t recover from.
He rinsed her hair and repeated the steps, this time with conditioner.
Things had moved so quickly, bringing them to this point so very fast. Reason never had a chance to catch up with her heart.
No, that was a lie.
She’d known from the night at her secret apartment that he was the only man who stood a chance in her life and in her heart. He was made of steel, absent any imperfections like fear or doubt.
He was a good man, and she’d trapped him in her hell.
Greer wetted a washcloth and poured a dollop of liquid soap on it. The delicious scents of cinnamon and vanilla filled the shower stall. At least she had that. When he was gone, she could always pull those from her cabinet and remember him. The bittersweet moments with her assassin cookie.
She didn’t resist as he washed her. When he was finished, he did a quick pass over himself, then rinsed both of them. He shut the water off. Cold air filled the shower as he opened the stall door. He grabbed a thick towel and wrapped it about her body, then handed her another for her hair.
He gave himself a quick rubdown, then took her hand. When they reached the bed, she started to collect her clothes. “I should go.”
He took her things from her and dropped them back on the floor. “No. We’re not done.”
“Greer, I told you I’m married.”
He lifted the corner of the covers. “You’ve said a lot of things. Now you’re going to listen to me. In.” He pointed to the bed.
She didn’t comply. Her feet were locked in place.
“Remi, I want to hold you in my arms when I say what I have to say.”
She blinked at the liquid in her eyes. He still held the covers open. She lowered her head, then ditched the towels and crawled into his bed. He followed her, then scooped her up and brought her close.
“This is what I have to say.”
Remi kept her arms folded between them, bracing herself to hear words he could never take back and she could never forget.
“You’re an educated woman. You know as well as I do that no twelve-year-old can get married, least not here in the U.S.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“So you know, too, that whatever bullshit they told you—”
“There was a ceremony. I signed my name in a Bible.”
He drew a breath before continuing. “Baby, listen to me. They could have had you walk upside down around the compound dressed in rainbows. It doesn’t matter. Whatever they said, whatever they had you do, has no bearing on reality. It has no foundation in logic, ethics, morals, reason—or any other measure of human behavior and intellect. You know this. You’ve helped deprogram former cult members.”
She gulped too much air. “But I...I can’t deprogram me.”
“Okay.” She felt him nod. “You’re not in this alone. I got my arm around you.” He kissed her forehead. “And you know I’ll slay your dragons. Or even just clean your weapons after you vanquish them.”
“I don’t know why you would.”
He laughed. “I told you before, the bad guys don’t get to fuck with the good guys.” He tightened his hold on her. “Take me through that time. Help me understand what happened. Who did what and when?”
“I’ve never told anyone this.”
“Maybe it’s time you shined a little light on it. You’re safe here with me. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
“You should go, Greer. They will kill you.”
He chuckled. She felt that small puff of breath on her face. “I would love for them to try.”
“They killed my mother. They said she died of pneumonia, but she was healthy when she went back to them. Thin, but healthy.”
“Go ahead. Start your story.”
She sighed. “When I was twelve, the Prophet—”
“Josiah. AKA Senator Whiddon.”
“Yeah. He decided to take me and two of my friends as his wives. Wives number four, five, and six. I learned later, once my mom and I were away from the group, that he did that to trap us in the community. She thought he knew she was wanting to get me away. Once I became his bride, we were elevated in status. It became very difficult for either of us to ever be alone…or unguarded.
“Custom dictated that the prophet not consummate the marriage until two years after his wife began menstruating. My friend reached that threshold a year before me. She told me what happened during the consummation ceremony.
“There was a chamber above our worship hall. No one but the prophets and the male elders were allowed up there. It was considered sacred. The consummation ceremonies took place there.
“My friend told me the room was all white. There was a large bed made from white wood, with white linens. It was far more luxurious than anything she’d ever seen. It was up on a dais.”
She paused. Greer’s hand on her arm gave her strength. “There were restraints of some sort at each of the four corners of the bed. She was cuffed to the bed. The prophets took her first. Then they let the elders have her. Then the men had a feast as she watched them—and they her.
“My friend risked her life to tell us this. My mother broke into the chamber shortly after learning about this. I was terrified for her. When she came back, she packed a small bundle of food and clothes, and we left.”
“So the prophet never touched you?” Greer asked.