Chosen Prey (8 page)

"Uh, honey." Dare walked up behind her, took her by the shoulders, and backed her away from the window. "Can't take any chances. You could be seen." He turned her to face him. "How did you end up in the Temple of Light?"

She drew away from his grip. For a long moment she just looked at him. He waited with an expression that told her he wasn't going anywhere and that she wasn't, either, without them having this conversation.

Finally, she said, "My dad died just before I turned fifteen." The memories played over in her mind like they always did when she thought about her father's death. "Momma was lost without him. She'd always been kind of spacey and not all together. Momma was definitely not self-reliant. She was also easily swayed and into New Agey kinds of things."

Lyra turned her back on Dare and closed her eyes for a moment. She felt only the cool air of the hotel room against her skin and the soft hum of the air conditioner. "Momma's father died when she was eleven. Stepping back and looking at it from the outside, from what I saw growing up, I think my dad replaced what she had lost and she clung to that need for a father figure."

When Lyra opened her eyes, she swallowed down the rising panic that always came from thinking of The People. "My mother and I met Neal before Daddy's death, at some kind of program she dragged me to in Portland. Where we lived… before. I can't remember the sermon clearly," she continued, "but he talked about the 'Light' and how we could all work together in harmony and serve the Light. How we would be the blessed children and leave behind all that was evil in this world. Some bull like that."

Everything around her blurred as the memories came harsher and faster. "Not long after Daddy died, the next thing I knew Neal was taking my mom and me for a ride. I had no idea that it was an actual cult until we got there. Once they had us in the commune, there was no way out."

She felt the heat of Dare's gaze on her back, but she didn't want to look at him while she talked about it. "Armed guards along the inside and outside the fence," she continued.

"No one got in that Neal didn't allow, and no one got out except for the men who were his leaders of the Light. Like Mark and Adam."

Her mind turned to the reason why she and her mother had ended up in the commune.

"I think Momma was so dependent on others that she grabbed onto what Neal offered her.

He was a strong figure, a male she wouldn't be intimately involved with, and he represented what Momma thought she needed. At least that's what I've come to believe as I've grown older."

Lyra flinched at the memory of the three years after they were taken into the cult. "Of course Momma was totally brainwashed and lost touch with reality." Lyra clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. "I
hated
it. I hated Neal. I hated my mother for taking me there.

When I figured out there was no way to escape, I pretended to go along with his crap."

"How did you get out?" Dare's voice came from behind her, low and soothing, and bringing her slowly back to the present.

"I was desperate to get out of there before Neal—" She swallowed, nearly choking at the thought. "I got really lucky. Neal was off with one of his wives and I followed Jeffrey to where the cult kept their vehicles.

"I'd overheard earlier that he was going into Portland for supplies." She began pacing the room as she continued, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. "It was dark and I'd grabbed a black tapestry out of the Prayer Room and wrapped it around myself, inside out. I snuck into the back of Jeffrey's truck. I hid myself behind some crates and made sure every inch of me was covered.

"When he parked, it was in a dark alley and there were some men on the driver's side.

They talked about making an exchange, money from the cult for drugs—LSD, crack, marijuana." Tremors ran through her body at the memory. "When I realized I was in the middle of a drug deal, I was so scared I'd get caught. But I was on the opposite side of the truck bed, and while they made their deal, I dropped the tapestry and slipped out of the truck. As soon as I was far enough away, I ran. All I had was the twenty bucks I found on Neal's dresser," she said, "and the freaking robe he forced me to wear.

"The only thing I've always felt guilty about," she said as she paced, "was leaving my mother behind, even though I hated her for what she put me through. But I knew she would be fine. I wouldn't have been fine once Neal got his hands on me."

"What did you do next?" Dare's tone was quiet, concerned.

"I stole some clothes and hitchhiked to Tucson, which seemed far enough away without having to worry about cold and snow. I lived on the street, in homeless shelters, always moving, and working odd jobs." The memories of those days were a mixture of pain from what she went through to survive and a feeling of freedom from having escaped the Temple. "I worked my way up from being homeless to making out all right. I was lucky, too, that after a while a nice woman helped me get into a women's shelter so I didn't have to live oh the streets or in homeless shelters anymore. I kept creating my artwork and saved every penny I could to start a new life."

"You're amazing." Dare's hands gripped her shoulders from behind, stopping her in midstep. He began massaging her neck with deep, even pressure of his thumbs. "How old were you?"

"Eighteen when I left The People," she said, still tense beneath Dare's skilled fingers.

"Five years ago."

She pulled away from his massage as she turned to face him and tilted her head back to look into his eyes. "Your turn."

Dare slid his hands down to hold hers. "What do you want to know?"

"First of all," she said, keeping her voice dead serious. "How did you get a name like Dare?"

The corner of his mouth quirked and she knew he hadn't been expecting that question.

"My first name's Jake. Dad started calling me Dare when I was a kid. I was something of a show-off, especially in front of girls." He rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles. "I never refused a dare. Like to have gotten myself killed a time or two."

A smile crept across Lyra's face. "I can picture you pulling all kinds of stunts."

"Jumping barrels with my bike, fences with my horse, driving my car a hundred miles an hour, playing high school football like the devil was after me—stuff like that." He shook his head. "Broke my leg once, my foot another time, and my right arm twice. Ended up with a lot of scars. It's a wonder I'm still alive, all the crap I pulled."

Lyra withdrew from his grasp. She moved to the bed, perched on the edge of it, and braced her hands to either side of her hips. "There's something I'm very curious about.

How did you find me?"

Dare sucked air through his teeth and paused a moment before replying. "The man who came to my office had a piece of your artwork. I happen to have a friend who has some similar work, so I checked with him to see where he bought it."

Lyra stared at him head-on. "Everyone knows me as Linda in Bisbee. So how did Suzette know to send you to me?"

"A wild hare," he said. "Didn't think it would hurt to check to see if you were one and the same."

She raised her chin. "Bet you didn't expect to get a faceful of pepper spray."

He found it hard to hold back a smile. "Sure as hell didn't."

Lyra closed her eyes and tilted her face to the ceiling. So much pain filled her beautiful face that Dare wanted to take her in his arms and caress away the hurt. To protect her from ever being hurt again.

He moved to the chair beside the desk and sat, not five feet from her. He leaned forward and propped his forearms on his thighs as he spoke. "Tell me why they want you so bad."

"It's stupid." Lyra opened her eyes and stared toward the window. "And embarrassing."

"You can tell me." He tried to relax, but the tension in his body wouldn't let him. He knew this wasn't going to be good.

Lyra shook her head, her expression miserable. "I can't," she whispered.

"I need to know, honey," he said softly. "I can't help you if I don't know what you're dealing with."

A deep, shuddering breath wracked her body, and she looked down at her hands.

"When I lived with The People, Neal, the Temple's Prophet, said Jericho—the First Prophet—visited him in a vision." She turned her gaze to Dare. "Jericho told Neal that he would take a wife who would bear his son, the next Messiah. And Jericho told him that I was the one who would carry that child."

Her words slammed into Dare with the force of a two-by-four. "Shit."

"Isn't that the truth." She fisted her hands, her expression furious. "When I was eighteen he planned a joining ceremony where I would become his new First Wife. He has a whole bunch of wives, but I was supposedly the
Chosen
." Tears glistened in her eyes, and she clenched her hands so tightly her knuckles were bone white. "That's when I ran away." She sniffled. "In one way I was lucky, because the Prophecy said I had to be eighteen before Neal had sex with me. Most girls in the cult are married off to men when they're fifteen—or else they're pretty much raped."

Fury pumped through him and Dare barely resisted slamming his fist into a wall after hearing what the bastard had put Lyra through—was still putting her through. Not to mention all the other girls and women in the cult. He pushed from his chair by the desk, strode to Lyra, and settled on the bed beside her. He pulled her against his chest, drawing her tight within his embrace.

Lyra wrapped her arms around his waist and clung to him for comfort. Comfort she'd never had and needed more than she ever realized.

Hot, painful, humiliating memories flooded Lyra's mind, memories that she wanted to shove out and never think of again. But she couldn't quite force out the images that had haunted her for years.

"There's more, isn't there?" Dare stated.

She pressed her cheek against his shirt and nodded. "I don't want to talk about it. The memories hurt too much."

"Honey, I need to know." He brushed her hair and gripped her tight to him. "And I think it's something you need to get off your chest."

Lyra couldn't look at him and kept herself pressed up against him. He held her tight and continued to stroke her hair, and she almost felt like everything would be okay.

The words slipped out before she could take them back. "He used to make me—he used to make me watch."

Dare went completely still. "Watch… what?"

"He would bring in one of his wives and make," she swallowed hard, "he'd make me watch him having sex with her."

Dare clenched his hand in her hair and his entire body went so rigid he felt like steel against her. "The fucking bastard made you watch," he repeated, his voice so harsh it would have scared her if she wasn't so sure his anger was directed at Neal and not her.

Lyra held on to Dare tighter, afraid she might fall without the strength of his embrace.

"He said it was to train me in how I should act when I was his new First Wife." Tears fell easily now, and her cheeks were completely wet. "Sometimes he would flog them as punishment for one reason or another. Sometimes he would flog me," she added in a whisper.

"And." She whispered her next words. "And he made me take him in my mouth."

She turned so that she was face-first against Dare's chest. "I've never been able to get those memories out of my mind."

"Goddamn sonofabitch." Dare gripped her so tight she almost felt as if she would break.

Dare moved to the bed and sat on it, drawing her onto his lap and holding her like he'd never let her go. For a long time he held her as she cried.

Hiccups wracked her body as her tears started to lessen. "I'm afraid, Dare. I'm so afraid."

Anger raged through Dare with the force of a wildfire burning an entire forest. What the sonofabitch had done to Lyra—Dare was beyond furious. So furious he didn't know what to say at that moment.

Tears had soaked through Dare's shirt, warming his chest as she cried. "I'm so tired of running," she continued. "I just want a normal life. I don't even know what that is." She tilted her tearstained face to look at him. "I won't be caged again. I won't be forced to have that man's child."

Heat magnified throughout Dare's entire body at the thought of what the cult leader had forced her to do when she was a teenager. No way was Dare letting the assholes get their hands on her. He wasn't letting her out of his sight.

Lyra continued to cry quietly against his chest. "I'm so tired. I don't want to run anymore. I don't want to run."

Dare gently stroked her hair, trying not to tremble with the force of his anger, letting her get it all out. "I won't let the sonsofbitches get their hands on you. I promise."

She pushed away from Dare and wiped tears from her eyes with the sleeves of her shirt.

"Damn it." She gave another sniffle and pushed her hair out of her face. "I hate crying."

Dare took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. "You've been through a lot. Don't get all over yourself for the way you're feeling right now."

Lyra's lips trembled like she was trying to smile. "Who'd have thought you'd be such a sweet man?"

Dare grimaced. "Promise you won't tell Nick."