2. Logan

2

LOGAN

"I now pronounce you man and wife," the Leader says to the room full of Chosen Saints. "You will now drink the matrimonial red wine that signifies the family bloodline you will create."

I'm handed a goblet. The woman, whose name I've learned is Teysha, is given one too. She stands opposite me, averting her gaze. She stares anywhere but at me and the Leader and anybody else in the room.

We're the enemy. Her captors.

If she had any idea how wrong she is.

I'm not one of them…

"Drink," the Leader commands.

I blink and realize he's repeated himself twice now. Cause for punishment if he's in a bad enough mood.

I bring the goblet to my lips and swallow down the wine in a few short gulps. It tastes of bitter sour grapes mixed with something chemical. Some ingredient that shouldn't be in wine. A drug to make us more complacent.

It's a taste I've noticed several times before. During past ceremonies where I'd been forced to consummate a bond with the woman chosen for me.

Teysha's here 'cuz the last bond fell through. Grace hadn't been able to take being captive another second…

I keep my expression neutral while consuming the wine. Teysha makes a face of disgust, stopping after only a mouthful.

"Drink," the Leader repeats. His teeth clench and his eyes flash with warning.

She chokes on the rest of it. A couple droplets slip down her chin and splatter onto her chest. My attention's drawn to the area—she's busty to the point of distraction, and the wine slides down the cleft between her breasts. Breasts that are only halfway visible due to her blouse being torn and muddied.

My gaze lifts a couple inches to her throat. A golden cross pendant dangles from the necklace she wears. Her real religion.

No wonder they chose her.

One look at her, and you can tell she's the type to be seated in church every Sunday. Everything from the modest skirt and blouse she's wearing to the horror on her face reveals she's exactly the ‘pure heart' type they like to corrupt.

She catches on that I'm studying her and wards me off with a knit of her brows and suspicious bend of her mouth.

"Now for the bonding," the Leader says, stepping aside. His arm sweeps in dramatic fashion as he gestures to the bed that's propped up on the dais.

A bed that I'm more than familiar with. That makes my stomach roil on sight.

"Get started," he prompts.

I take a step toward the bed, then realize I'm alone .

Teysha's stayed put. She makes no attempt to hide her tears or the fact that she's shaking on the spot. Her fingers have clasped around the gold cross like she expects for it to protect her against the evil swallowing her up.

The Leader sighs. "Brody, Xavier. Help our new believer."

Both men stride forward to grab one of her arms and drag her toward the bed. They lift her up and throw her down onto the mattress like they couldn't give less of a shit how much she screams and struggles.

"No… NOOOO!" she screams in sudden wild hysterics, kicking her legs out.

And I stand by and let it happen.

My heart's racing. My fingers twitch and itch. I can barely control my breathing.

The room feels hot and like it's spinning.

My temper pulses, but I tamp it down. I remind myself there's nothing I can do. A lesson I've learned dozens of times over the past nine hundred days.

I can't stop what's about to happen. But I'm maybe the only other person in this room that feels sick from the ceremony we're being forced to participate in.

"The binds," the Leader drawls lazily from the sidelines. "Use the binds if she refuses to lay still."

Brody and Xavier wrap leather binds around her wrists, tethering her to the bed, and then move out of the way.

The silence in the room feels deafening. Disorienting as all attention falls on me.

I swallow down the sick feeling and urge myself to black out. Just like I managed earlier with Mandy.

But blacking out when you're on top of a crying, trembling woman is nowhere near as easy. Flashbacks of my first time with Grace pollute my head. She'd cried too, begged like I had the power to end what was happening to us.

I'd caught her eye, and then she understood. She got that I was just like her. I was forced into this fucked up situation too.

The room watches on in silent interest as I position myself between Teysha's legs. It takes me a moment to get hard, stroking my dick, reminding myself there's no choice. If I can't perform, then I have no use. Then the Leader's going to turn his ire onto me.

Another thing that wouldn't be the first time…

I try to tune out our surroundings. Nobody else is around. Nobody else is watching.

It's just me and this woman on the bed. We'll do what we have to do as quick as possible to get it over with. Then we'll go back to surviving our captivity.

I guide myself to Teysha's entrance and pause for a second. Even if this isn't consensual— neither of us want this—I was hoping I'd catch her eye like I caught Grace's.

Make her understand I have to. I'll make this quick and finish in a hurry. But she won't look at me. She's turned her head away, her eyes clenched shut. Her chin quivers as her cries continue, silent and terrified.

It's enough to hollow out my insides. I'm left with a sinking, empty sensation.

My erection twitches in a warning it'll soften if I don't get going.

I take in a breath and push myself inside. The girl bows against me and cries out in agony. By the way her body jerks and the slight resistance I encounter, I understand what's just happened. What I've just taken from her, and I'm sure she'll never forgive me for .

She's outright sobbing now. The horrific sounds chip away at me as I draw my hips back and then thrust into her.

Her walls clamp down on me and the tight heat massages my dick. Soon the beginnings of a climax tickle their way up my spine. I thrust a little faster, chasing the end, wanting for this moment between us to be over.

My gaze remains on her face. Futile hope she'll finally look up at me and I can make her get it. I can promise her it'll be over soon.

But she never acknowledges me in any way beyond her sobs and pained jerks of her body. It's only been a few minutes when I'm able to give in and let go. My release spills from me in a weak pulse of pleasure. I wait for every drop to be spent before withdrawing and tucking myself back into my pants.

Blood coats the head, confirming what I suspected. A detail I've got to bury in an effort to fight off guilt at what I've done.

The Leader's smile takes up half of his face. Several of the saints mirror him, smiling at the two of us on the bed as if we've made them proud.

As if what we've done isn't fucked up and depraved.

In the world of the Chosen Saints, it's simply bonding. Just like I bonded with Mandy earlier. Just like the Leader bonds with any of the female saints and believers on a whim. Just like… Teysha will be made to bond with me and others too.

Free love is a whole different concept in this so-called family.

Teysha's taken away to be cleaned up.

The ceremony ends with a celebration of food and drink. The believers are allowed to stay for the first hour. Once it's up, we're corralled back to our cabins—unless the Leader or one of his saints have chosen you for the night.

I'm not chosen, so I wind up in the dank cabin, sitting in the dark on my sunken bunkbed. As far as I'm concerned, a better turnout for the night than if Mandy had requested me a second time today.

Teysha's brought in after everybody else in the cabin's gone to sleep. She's deposited onto her bunk by two of the saints who brought her and then left without a word. They shut the door to our cabin and total darkness commences.

I sit still and watch her corner of the cabin. Though shadows blanket the space and I can't see her, I can hear her—she's sobbing herself to sleep. Probably the first night of many where she'll fall asleep like this.

For half a second, I consider getting up and going over. Explaining to her what I did was unavoidable. Telling her I didn't mean to hurt her. Letting her know she's got to toughen up, 'cuz this is the way things are and we're all captives here.

She can't let herself end up like Grace and the other women before her.

It'd be the first real human words I've spoken in days. Maybe weeks.

But I don't. I stay where I am, sitting in the dark, and I listen to her cries without ever saying a comforting word.

Instead, I focus on the anger I've learned to control. I allow myself to think about something I've avoided for months. Something that gives the false hope I hate seeing in others but reminds me there might be a reason to keep holding on.

One day… one day I'm busting the hell out of here. Then… then I'm making every last one of these bastards pay…