Tanner's War by Amber Morgan Read Free Book Online Page A

as to the Lord,’” he intoned. “’For the husband is the head of the wife.’ Do you
understand, Bethany?” A slow, menacing anger filled his voice and darkened his
face.
    She tried to answer but her throat
was too dry. Her skin crawled and she could almost feel herself shrinking under
his glare and his touch. This would be her life, night after night, growing
weaker and smaller under Abram’s dominion. Something inside her revolted.
“Please,” she managed to say, keeping her eyes down, “please, can we wait? I
want … I want to go to my marriage bed pure and humble before the Lord. This …”
She waved her hand around the dingy kitchen, “this isn’t where we should …” She
couldn’t quite spit out the word consummate ,
but something in her tone made Abram back off. He released her with one last,
slow caress of her breast. She hugged herself, hiding her breasts from him.
    “You are a modest girl. You will
make a good wife, a good example to the women of the Church.” He nodded, an oily smile on his face. She wondered if it had
been some kind of test. If she’d submitted and let him have sex with her, would
he have called her a whore and cast her out?
    It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter.
He was leaving, nodding politely to her as if he hadn’t just assaulted her.
Beth didn’t dare breathe until he’d shut the front door and she knew he was
really gone. Then, only then, did she cry. A bitter mix of fury and grief
filled her, and she saw her life stretching out into dismal daily abuse at
Abram’s hands. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t.
    She stared around the kitchen. The
windows were clean but the frames were warped and rotting. The plates in the
sink were chipped and the tiles underfoot were scuffed and cracked. The house
was always cold, no matter what time of year it was. The clothes she wore had
been her mother’s, and her own clothes would be handed down to Hannah
eventually. Her mother and Sam always insisted happiness didn’t come from
material possessions, but from the joy of the spirit. But Beth didn’t have
either, so how was she supposed to know?
    She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t be
his wife.
    Once the idea was in her head, she
couldn’t get rid of it. It hung there like poisonous fruit, sweetly tempting
and sickening at the same time. Where would she go? Could she really leave her
sisters behind? What would she do ?
She had no skills, no formal education … Nothing.
    She sat down, realizing she was
shaking.
    There was no other choice. She
would run. She had to.

Chapter Seven
     
    By the time Beth stopped speaking, Tanner was ready to kill someone. He balled his
hands into fists, fighting the urge to slam them into the bricks. He had to
wait a few seconds before he spoke, not trusting himself not to start yelling.
    "So this Nathaniel guy
..."
    "One of Abram's sons,"
Beth said. She was still staring ahead, unfocused. There was a soft pain in her
voice, as if she was remembering something horrible. Tanner wanted to take it away
from her. More than wanted— needed . He didn't want to hear that aching,
or see the angst on her face.
    "Motherfuckers," he said.
His body trembled with violence. He'd been here before, too many times. This
was the trouble Nash accused him of borrowing, this rage that boiled away all
common sense. But he couldn't help it. Couldn't stop it. The whole time Beth talked, he'd been picturing his sister, Melissa, bloodied
and weeping and begging Tanner to help her.
    He snapped and smashed his fist
into the wall with a yell. The abrasive shock of pain was almost refreshing.
Beth yelped and jumped away from him, almost cowering, and Tanner's anger was
doused immediately.
    "Oh fuck, Beth, no. I'm not gonna hurt you." He reached for her, but she shied
away. He bit his lip, fighting frustration. After what she'd been through, how
she'd lived, of course she was going to be scared. "I'm sorry," he
offered. "I just ... I need ..." He needed to fight, that was what