Taming the Cult

TAMING

THE

CULT

Forced Home

Book Two

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Nicole Tillman

Copyright © 2014 Nicole Tillman

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and registered trademark owners of all branded names referenced without TM, SM, or ® symbols due to formatting constraints, and is not claiming ownership of or collaboration with said trademark brands. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Edited by Lindsey Editing

Photo Credit: Pixabay

Printed in the United States of America

Other Books by Nicole Tillman

DUPONT Series

Come Tear Me Down

Don't Make Me Look

Please Let Me Stay

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HOPELESS HERITAGE Series

Secondhand Sapphire

Temporary Partner

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FORCED HOME Series

Loving the Cult

Taming the Cult

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PARANORMAL PEACEKEEPERS Series

Whisper in the Rain

Scream in the Wind

Cry in the Fog

Sin in the Storm

Dance in the Hellfire

Saving Mercy

One Vibrant Hue

Steady

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BOOK DESCRIPTION

Tess and Jameson might be free, but that doesn't mean they're safe.

When a ghost from Jameson's past shows up on their doorstep, Tess realizes that they will never be able to slink back into the shadows and live a normal life. Jameson owes the cult too much, and it's a loyalty and promise Joan can't forget. Until he fulfills his duty, they'll never be rid of the Children of Neutrality.

As Jameson and Tess fight for freedom once more, they realize that the casualties of their last escape will pale in comparison to what's at risk this time around.

This time, only one of them will leave unscathed

(Recommended for readers 18+ due to graphic language and adult situations.)

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Disclaimer

Taming the Cult

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

EPILOGUE

The End

Dedicated to my betas.

I'd be lost without you.

CHAPTER ONE

I wake up with a terrified scream lodged in my throat. My entire body shakes, and the cold sweat beaded up and down my arms makes the room seem frigid.

What the fuck was I dreaming about?...

As my eyes fight to adjust, the bedroom walls come into focus, lit only by the glowing blue numbers on the alarm clock in the corner. Slowly, ever so slowly, it comes back to me...

The rope binding my hands, the blindfold holding my sight hostage, and the rough hands of three men forcing me into a house in the middle of nowhere.

I pull in an unsteady breath and wait for the nightmare to recede into the deepest, darkest, most hidden corners of my psyche where it belongs.

Hey, you okay?

Jameson's rough, sleep-addled voice startles me at first, since I'm still not used to sharing my bed with anyone. But as I look at him, his dark hair all mussed and his even darker eyes groggy with sleep, I realize I've never been more thankful for another human being in my life. His voice is the one thing in the world that grounds me to reality; to the here and now.

If it weren't for him, I'd still be in that house. I'd still be a prisoner.

I'd still be a slave.

Yeah, just a bad dream. Go back to sleep.

As expected, he doesn't. Instead, he sits up, scrubs a hand across his face, and turns on the small bedside lamp.

The soft glow illuminates his features just enough for me to see the worry lines creasing his forehead and the grimace he's too tired to hide.

Still having nightmares? He asks.

I nod my head, not trusting my voice. I want to lie. I want to tell him that I'm stronger than that, more resilient. But I'm not. I'm a far cry from the strong woman I had to be to escape the clutches of the people who abducted me. Every damn day I wish I had that strength back.

Fear is a funny thing. When I was first taken, all I could think about was escaping. That was my first and only priority. Determination trumped fear. I knew I couldn't stay there. I wasn't going to live there and I certainly wasn't going to die there. I kept my fear on a short leash.

But now... now that Jameson and I are free from the chains of the cult he was born into, now that neither of us are being held against our will, the fear has morphed into something more prevalent, more dangerous. Because if there's something scarier than an enemy charging you head on, it's an enemy you can't see, can't anticipate.

I miss the ecstasy of our first few days of freedom. They were remarkable. Victory plucked us from the slums and placed us right on top of the world. We were invincible.

But that feeling quickly died. The day, the minute, the very second we realized that the Children of Neutrality were watching us, it was over.

The clues aren't a threat. They're a reminder. That we're not safe where we are. That we're not free. Not yet. We just want to be left in peace. We want a bit of normalcy. But apparently that's too much to ask.

Joan, the Paramount of the cult, was so sure we weren't going anywhere. She thought her locked doors and steel gates could hold us. Well, we proved her wrong.

So I guess I'm not all that surprised that she's been looking for us, and I'm less surprised that she found us. She's a persistent woman when she wants to be.

From day one, I was the thorn in her side that ruffled her entire congregation. I refused to obey, refused to cooperate, and refused to play her game. In the end, I did something no other woman had yet to do. 

I escaped.

And not only that, I took someone with me. A member. A man. A man who she thought was faithful to a fault. A man who didn't put as much stock in her teachings as she had hoped.

If it had been any other man, I think she would have called off her hounds. If it had been just any other brainwashed member who stormed the gates with me, I think she would have said 'good riddance'. But Jameson's not just any man.

He was hers, and in her eyes, I took him from her.

I took her son.

She can't hurt you here. None of them can.

I look up into Jameson's shadowed face and even though his words are hard with conviction, his eyes betray him. Even through the darkness, I can see the fear that lingers there. He's not stupid. He knows we're still in danger.

I sigh. You know that's not true.

Jameson rolls to his side and cups my cheek in his hand. I eagerly lean into the warmth of his touch and move my cheek back and forth against his calloused palm. I've never had this, this kind of compassion from another person, and I'll be damned if I turn away from it. 

What happened? In your dream.

It was that first night, I say. Being dragged into the house by those men.

I try not to put too much disdain into the word men, because although Jameson didn't agree with everything the cult did, they were still his family. Even though he's behind me one hundred percent, I still feel rotten for bringing up his old friends. Yes, friends. The men who abducted me were friends with the man who's legs are currently tangled in my sheets.

Jameson pulls me into his side, turning me so that my back is pressed against his chest and his hot breath is tickling the tiny hairs on the back of my neck. I've never let a man hold me like this in the middle of the night. I've never opened myself up to another human being. Never made myself vulnerable. So this is all new. New and intoxicating.

Only Jameson's been able to crack through the tough exterior I constructed. Only he's been able to wade through the sarcasm and the bullshit to find what's really lurking at my core. And once the true me surfaced, once he realized how temperamental and difficult I could be, he did something unbelievable.

He stayed.

He solidified himself by my side, refusing to leave even after he learned just how hard my years spent alone have made me, how my father's heavy hand has caused me to live a life of cautious solitude. Although I expected pity and sympathy, he showed neither. He only drew me in closer, made promises I knew he planned to keep, and he's accepted me for everything I am ever since.

Every blemish, every flaw, every emotional instability. He claimed me and I claimed him. Right now, in bed, it seems like the perfect fairy tale ending, but I know better. There will be no riding off into the sunset for us. There will be no dream wedding. No happily ever after. Instead, we'll spend the rest of our days looking over our shoulder, on edge, wondering if or when they'll strike.

Tell me something. I keep my back planted firmly against his chest, but turn my head to catch a glimpse of his fluttering eyelids.

Anything.

If they take us back, what will they do?

Instead of falling into our normal midnight discussion like I expect him to, he wraps his arms around me even tighter, squeezing the breath out of me. His possessive grip coupled with the feel of his lips against the nape of my neck make me shiver and I wait anxiously for his answer. But when he softens his hold, the words still don't come.

Jameson?

I heard you, he rumbles, but I don't ever plan on going back, so I don't see the point in answering all your 'what-ifs'. Nothing's going to happen to you as long as I'm here. I promise.

His words are harsh, spit from his lips like a curse, as if he thinks saying them with such force will automatically make them true. His tone should scare me, but it doesn't. That's just how Jameson is. He doesn't believe in being gentle for the sake of someone's feelings. Even mine. And that's something I can respect.

No matter how deep he's scared me in the past, and no matter how harsh he sounds now, I believe him. I know he would go to any lengths to protect me. He proved that the night we escaped.

He didn't blink an eye. Didn't hesitate. He never let up off the accelerator as Bradley's body bumped and cracked beneath the tires of the truck.

I know that's something Jameson still lives with. Even though I'm the one being jerked awake by a nightmare tonight, it's usually the other way around. Usually, it's Jameson who's plagued with memories of his time there. I hear him late at night, crying Bradley's name, and I know he wouldn't carry this pain if it weren't for me. I mentally try to go back to that night, find some way for Jameson and I to make it out without any casualties, but I always come up empty.

We had a plan, and he was interfering. Jameson was determined to get us out of there, and Bradley was the last and final thing standing in our way. At the time, I hadn't realized what kind of suffering Jameson would endure because of his actions, but it's clear now that it's something he can't escape. And maybe he shouldn't. He killed someone. He was behind the wheel of that truck. He made the rash decision to accelerate.

But even though it was his body that carried out the act, I still can't help but feel guilty. After all, he left because of me. He left for me. I wish like hell I could take every ounce of guilt off Jameson's shoulders and place it on my own. I would carry that burden for him in a heartbeat, but I can't.

Go back to sleep, please. His voice is soft as he nuzzles his nose against my neck.

When we first made it home, I hadn't been able to go back to sleep once the nightmares set in, but over the passing weeks I've managed to condition myself to sleep no matter how hard my heart is beating, no matter how fast my brain is racing, no matter how many eyes I feel staring at me through the open window.

I know I'm overreacting. Joan and her followers aren't just going to bust through the window or beat down the door to get to us. They're much too reserved for that. Their entire cause rests on the fact that the world doesn't know they exist. So, we're safe behind closed doors.

I hope.

CHAPTER TWO

I've never actually wanted