Page 47 of Hysteria Rises (Dark Falls Hollow #1)

THIRTY-FOUR

DELILAH

A feeling of foreboding has been with me since last night.

I can’t shake it. But like a well-oiled machine, I’ve worked tirelessly alongside the other women for hours on end now.

It’s clear today is no normal day. We’ve spent the better part of the afternoon preparing what amounts to a fucking feast, if I ever saw one.

The delicious scents have my mouth watering and my stomach grumbling noisily.

My assumption, though, is that I won’t get a bite of this, nor will any of the other women and probably not the children, either.

There’s no doubt in my mind that this display of gluttony is for the men and probably has something to do with the things both Arrow and Hayze said to me last night. Get some sleep. Run. Hide.

Eight shoves a dish of potatoes she’s just taken out of the oven at me and nods toward the warming dish on the counter.

Got it. Move the potatoes from one dish to another.

Create more dishes for us to wash later.

Sounds great. The only upside is that menial tasks like this leave my mind free to roam.

Arrow’s appearance in my room had been unexpected.

I hadn’t seen much of him since the day of our correction with the exception of that one day I’d encountered him while cleaning upstairs, but then the snake happened and chaos had reigned supreme.

I’d totally thought he had something else he wanted to say that day, so maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he’d found a way down to my room.

I don’t know whether to trust him or not, though.

He could simply be playing the nice guy to get back into my pants again.

I grimace. Not that I’m allowed fucking pants at all.

The truth is, if I’d had access, it probably would have made a whole lot of sense to focus on him, because I have a suspicion he might just do anything I ask of him.

I wet my lips, continuing to ladle potatoes into the dish meant to keep the food warm.

Instead, opportunity had presented itself in the form of Hayze.

He has me just as muddled in the head. My cheeks flush pink.

Jesus. I let him touch me. I grit my teeth.

Desperate. I’m not crazy, I’m fucking desperate …

so I’d let him do what he wanted. I even acted like I wanted him.

I nibble on my lip, thinking back to those stolen moments.

Maybe the conversation we had about the punishment he inflicted on Arrow and the disappearance of his father did kinda make me feel for him.

But only a tiny bit. Frustrated by the direction of my thoughts, I let out an aggravated noise, whacking the spoon on the side of the dish to free a chunk of potato stuck there.

Fuck. My face crumples as I relive the way those intense blue eyes had pierced mine.

I hate liars. And all I’m doing is lying to myself.

What we did, it’d felt good. A wash of shame rolls over me from head to toe at the memory of his tongue lapping at my clit and the way he’d tentatively thrust it inside me.

I exhale unsteadily. Never once, though, did I forget what I was doing and why.

Hayze, though, I don’t think he had a clue what was going on in my head.

Men think with their dicks. And I’m going to exploit the shit out of that knowledge.

Now to figure out how I can best use it to my advantage with the leader’s firstborn son …

Glancing around, I find that among the other women, there’s this sort of somber anticipation, which makes me feel even more clueless than I already do. I watch them for a hint of what’s happening as we buzz around making final preparations. They know something is coming. I’m certain of it.

I’ve thought about flat-out asking what the hell is going on, because this seems significant, and being kept in the dark is driving me nuts—but maybe they aren’t permitted to tell me. Fingers of unease crawl up my spine one vertebra at a time until my body shudders involuntarily.

With a huffed breath, my eyes flick toward the chalkboard on the wall that we use to mark off tasks as we finish them. I itch to scrawl a simple question in the corner, to see if anyone will give me an answer. It could be wiped away seconds later, no one the wiser. Do I dare?

My gaze darts to Twenty-two, and I watch her for a moment as she stretches, hands massaging her lower back, her growing belly protruding from her abdomen like she’s smuggling a small pumpkin under her dress.

Frustrated, I scowl. This is stupid. I’m not even writing it down. I’m just going to ask. Right now. But I’ve only gotten as far as opening my mouth to violate one of the fundamental commands from the Collective—silence—when Twenty-two gives me a sharp look and jerks her head in the negative.

Shit. So much for that. I cringe, letting the reminder that this woman has already risked herself on my behalf once curb my actions.

She’s right. I shouldn’t make trouble for her.

With a shuddering sigh, I set that idea aside, absently chewing on my lip as I fill a basket with silverware and napkins as I’d been instructed to do.

Unfortunately, I get the feeling I’m supposed to be left in the dark.

Run. Hide. But from what?