by Ivy Fox
Saint thanks him again, holding me closer under his arm. Before we step foot outside the garage, he pulls the hood over my head and orders me to keep hidden to his side. I don’t question why and just snuggle in closer, relishing the warmth his body provides my chilled bones.
We don’t say a word to each other as we walk the three blocks to his apartment building. Feeling suddenly exhausted, I don’t even have the energy to sneak a peek and see where he lives, and by the way Saint holds onto me so fiercely, always making sure my face is covered, I don’t think he wants me to see either.
“Elevator doesn’t work, so we have to take the stairs,” he informs me, his voice strained when we enter one of the deteriorated ecru buildings. “Just keep your head down and don’t say anything if anyone stops us.”
I swallow dryly at his tense tone but do as he commands. As we walk up the flight of stairs, a few people greet him on the way down, but Saint never stops long enough to say more than a hello or give a nod in greeting. When we enter into a dimly lit hall, I feel his shoulders start to relax. But his ease is short-lived when we both see Maya sitting cross-legged on the floor, headphones on, and a notebook in her lap. The minute she hears our footsteps, she stands up straight.
“Elle? Is that you? Is everything okay?” she asks worriedly.
“Everything is fine, kid,” Saint answers in my stead with an edge to his voice. “I thought I told you I don’t like you staying out here in the hall alone anymore.”
“I don’t want to be in there right now.” She shrugs dispiritedly, tilting her head toward the closed door behind her.
“Fuck,” Saint growls from under his breath. “Get in here,” he orders, unlocking the door right next to hers. “You can stay here as long as you need, okay? There is some leftover sancocho in the fridge if you’re hungry. We’ll be in my room. Knock if you need anything,” he says before we both head down a small corridor leading to his room.
When we step inside his bedroom, I stand rooted to my spot, amazed that it’s nothing like I imagined. It’s meticulously clean, even if small. There is a twin bed pushed up against a wall, an old oak dresser, and a small desk and chair next to the only window in the room. There aren’t any posters on the walls or dirty clothes on the floor. It’s spotlessly clean of filth and clutter. Not at all what I expected to find in an eighteen-year-old boy’s bedroom.
Saint sits me on the chair next to his desk, pulling my hood down to my shoulders before going to his haunches to look up at me. I caress his face, and he melts into my palm, placing a kiss at its center before he stares me in the eye again.
“Will you tell me what’s wrong, cariño?” he asks, making my heart leap at the familiar endearment.
“He killed her,” I stammer, the words feeling like a hot iron is piercing through my soul. “My father… he killed her, Saint. He killed my mother. It wasn’t an accident or suicide like I thought. He murdered her. He ordered Holland’s mom to kill her. She didn’t leave me, Saint. He stole her from me!”
“Fuck,” he growls, wrapping his arms around me as I bawl on his shoulder. He doesn’t ask me for more specifics, for which I’m grateful. He just lets me cry and break apart. And I do. I shatter in his arms, reliving and grieving my mother’s death all over again.
He lifts me up with his arm under my knees and lays me on his bed, sliding right in beside me. He holds me tight, kissing my temple over and over again as I let the pain wash over me.
And there is so much of it.
So much that it devours me, chomping at the seams until all I am is raw flesh, dripping blood, and broken bones. It takes me into the deep dark corners of my mind, threatening to destroy me once and for all. The only thing that keeps me from giving in to its ruthless destruction is Saint’s tight hold on me, silently whispering that he’ll never let my demons swallow me whole.
I’m not sure how long we stay like this, but when we hear a faint knock on the door, I wipe my tears and try to pull myself together as best I can.
“I’m leaving, Saint. Is there anything I can get for Elle?” Maya asks.
“No. I’ll take care of her.”
She nods, sending me a somber smile before closing the door and leaving us in the dark once more.
“You’re good to her,” I say, caressing his face.
“Hmm,” he mumbles.
“You’re good to me,” I confess huskily, my throat raw from all the crying I’ve done.
He lets out an exhale, pushing a strand of hair out of my face and placing it behind my ear.
“Why? Why are you good to me?”
“You know why,” he whispers softly, running a finger down my cheek.
I do.
He loves me.
Even if he doesn’t say it, I know that he does.
“Princess?”
“Yes?”
“Why did you come to me? Why me?”
I know what he’s really asking.
Why did I come to find him and not go to Chad like I always do?
“Because he would try to fix me. But not you. I can be broken with you.”
“You’re not broken, Princess. Just a little banged up.”
The small smile that crests his lips before he kisses the tip of my nose confirms I made the right choice.
I will heal, eventually. But right now, I need to feel this pain. It’s my redemption and penance for being so blind all these years. For thinking ill of a woman who was fighting tooth and nail to do the right thing—to slay the monster in her midst and save herself and her children. She just never bargained that the devil who tormented her would block her from making the first strike.
I snuggle into his embrace, needing his warmth to soothe my aching soul and purge these thoughts out of my head.
“Can I stay with you? Just until I’m strong enough to go home?”
He tips my chin up with his knuckles.
“Look at me, Elle. You are the strongest person I know. You will get through this. I promise.”
“But can I stay? With you?”
“Yes,” he groans.
I place a tender kiss on his lips and snuggle into him, the day’s weariness finally catching up with me.
“Get some rest, cariño.”
And as if my wrecked soul lives to follow his command, my eyelids flutter shut, pulling me deep into sleep.
I’m not sure how long I’ve slept, but I’m pulled out of my sleep when I feel the bed is cold. Although I’m still in my dress, Saint must have taken my shoes off sometime during the night.
Needing to pee, I get out of bed and walk into the hall, luckily finding the bathroom door open just across from Saint’s bedroom. After I do my business and wash my hands thoroughly, I creak the door open, doing my best not to wake up Saint’s mom, who I’m sure must have returned by now from her shift at the diner.
I start to make my way back to his room when I see a faint blue light coming from inside the living room. Slowly, without making a sound, I tiptoe toward the light and find Saint sleeping all curled up on the couch with the TV on. He must have come here and left me in his room alone, thinking I’d need some privacy. But that’s not what I want. I need him with me.
Always.
I turn off the TV and then carefully pull the blanket off him just enough that I can squeeze in next to him. His hands instantly find my waist, pulling me closer to him. I sigh at the way his breath tickles my neck, sending shivers down my spine. The streaming rays of moonlight are just bright enough that I can see the contour of his beautiful face.
I run the pads of my fingers over his shapely brows, down his sharp, angular nose, and then to his plump, full lips. Like this, in his sleep, Saint looks so much younger than he is. Vulnerable. That aura he always puts out to the world of being the big bad wolf isn’t here under the pale moonlight. Instead, in its place is just a lost boy trying to find his way.
Just like me.
My heart swells in my chest, k
nowing that no time or distance spent apart will ever change the way I feel about him.
I love him.
Heart, body, and soul.
I love him.
Madly and passionately.
He’s the part of me that doesn’t mind my darkness because he lives with his own. We both have our demons to fight off, our struggles to overcome, yet deep down, we only really crave one thing—unconditional love and acceptance.
I run the pad of my finger along his bottom lip, my belly dipping when he parts his lips for me.
Are you dreaming about me, Saint?
Or is it the other half of your heart who holds you in the night?
As if hearing my unspoken question in his dream, he whispers my name—Elle.
My heart skips a beat as he holds me tighter, needing my closeness as much as I need his. Unable to stop myself, I lean in and kiss him. He groans when our lips lock together, his hands on my hips digging into my sensitive flesh. When his mouth begins to return my kiss, my leg raises to his hip, my hands creeping up his broad shoulders.
He tastes like decadence and danger.
I’ll never tire of how good he tastes on my tongue.
His lashes flip open, looking momentarily startled when he sees me. But his surprise subsides quickly, preferring to deepen our kiss. My eyelids shut of their own accord, needing to just relish at the moment. His tongue ring teases me as he finds every nook and cranny and marks it as his. He groans, pulling back from our kiss, our breathing loud and heavy in the night.
“You should go to bed, cariño. It’s late, and you had a hell of a day.”
I shake my head.
“I don’t want to be alone.”
He lets out a long exhale, pressing another kiss to my temple. He rises from the couch, bringing my body with him. As he stands, my legs wrap around his waist, my head falling to his chest. He keeps his firm hold on me, kissing my hair as he walks us back to his bedroom. He closes his door and gently lays me back on the bed.
“Can I have a T-shirt?” I stutter, rubbing my fingers over my lips, swollen from his kiss.
He nods, pulling a drawer open and then handing me one of his white T-shirts. I go to my knees on top of the bed and pull my dress off me, exposing my skin-colored bra and panty set. Saint’s jaw ticks, his gaze burning my skin, his gaze lingering down my body. He’s about to turn around, but I hold his hand to prevent him from moving.
“Don’t.” I shake my head.
He fists his hands at his sides but stays rooted to his spot.
My trembling fingers go to the back of my bra, unhooking it, while my eyes stay locked on his. The lace material falls to the mattress, Saint’s gaze becoming heady with desire.
“You’re not playing fair, Princess.”
“When have we ever played fair with each other?”
“No, I guess we never did, did we?”
His pierced tongue swipes his bottom lip as I sashay out of my panties. His Adam’s apple bobs as I lift off the bed and stand before him, so he can take a good long look at me. His piercing gaze burns me from within, and all thoughts of my misery disappear with the heat in his eyes.
“Touch me,” I rasp, grabbing his hand.
He lets me lift it and place it on my breast, his warm touch sending lightning rods to my belly.
“Elle.”
“No. Not that name. Not her name.”
His brows pinch together.
“Princess.” My shoulders instantly relax at the familiar nickname. “Cariño,” he adds as he begins to play with my nipple, making me sigh out in exquisite pain when he pinches it. “What do you want?”
“I want you to make me feel good. Can you do that?”
He groans again, pulling his hand off me and pressing his forehead to mine.
“You’re vulnerable right now. You don’t know what you want.”
“That’s not true. I want you.”
I’ll always want you.
He cups my face in his hands, his gaze filled with love and misery, just like mine must look to him. But his loving stare still says no.
“Do you love me?” I ask, his eyes pitching in pain at the question. “Say it. Say that you love me,” I order, my voice starting to crack and reveal the suffering I’m in.
He pulls my face closer to his, so close that his ragged breaths fan across my cheeks.
“I love you. I fucking love you so goddamn much I’ve been losing my mind without you,” he confesses, the pain in his voice only adding to my agony.
“Then love me. Show me,” I beg, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
“I am,” he retorts on a pained breath, unlatching my grip on him to pick up his T-shirt and pull it over my naked frame.
The sting of his rejection burns, making my throat scratch and my skin crawl.
“Love me.” I cry, slamming my fists against his bare chest. “Please.”
Saint lets me hit him, and as soon as my punches lose their steam, he picks me up like a newborn and lays me on his bed, nestling his body behind mine. His hold on me never wavers, as I curse God, the moon, and him. And as the dawn light starts shimmering into the room, announcing the new day, I lie in his arms and grieve the loss of the one person whose love I truly ache for but will never be able to feel again.
All because the devil won and stole her from me.
Chapter 24
Saint
For the past three nights, Princess has slept in my bed with me, and I haven’t laid a finger on her. It feels like my own purgatory—to have the woman I love so close to me and not be able to give her what she wants.
But I can’t.
The day I make love to her again, I don’t want it to be just so she can fill some empty void that dwells inside her. I’ve learned from my mistakes and refuse to let history repeat itself. The night I took her virginity, we were both so riddled with pain from Boy Scout’s rejection that seeking solace in each other seemed like the only way we knew how to cope. But if I give in to her suffering now, I won’t be able to forgive myself for the injustice I’ll cause her.
Elle has never truly let herself grieve her mother’s death. She held fiercely on to the belief that her mother chose to leave her and her brothers behind. She took comfort in her anger toward such a decision, and it made it easier for her to accept the loss.
But now?
Now that she has learned that her cunt of a father was behind her mother’s death all along, it’s as if she’s reliving that tragedy all over again. Princess has run away from her grief for long enough. She needs to heal, and that can’t happen if I lay my hands on her and give her the blessed distraction she yearns for so much. And though it fucking pains me, and every tear she sheds is like a knife wound to my soul, this is the only way she’ll be able to move past her suffering and genuinely heal.
This is the only way I know how to love Elle in her time of need.
“Is Elenora still asleep?” my mother asks as she prepares her morning coffee, successfully pulling me out of my pensive state.
I nod, handing her my mug so she can fill mine, too.
“Pobresita. She’s gone through so much lately.”
I nod again, my gaze falling to my closed bedroom door, only for my mom to pull out the chair next to mine, completely obstructing my view.
“She means a lot to you, doesn’t she, Santo?”
“Yes,” I reply evenly, bowing my head so she can’t read the turmoil in my eyes.
My mother sighs, pushing my coffee to the side to grab my attention.
“She has to go home, mijo. She needs to heal. Not run away from her problems.”
“I know that,” I retort, uncomfortable with how my mom is voicing every thought that has been running through my head these past few days.
“Do you?” she insists, making me lift my head to meet her caring eyes. “Don’t let your love hinder her healing. If you do, you won’t know if her feelings for
you are real or just an escape.”
“I know!” I growl, slamming my fist on the table.
I’m about to apologize for my brash behavior when my mother covers my fist with her hand, smoothing my palm flat on the kitchen table.
“When was the last time you went to see Doctor Murphy?”
“Mom, I don’t need to get my head examined right now. I need to be here and take care of Elle.”
“She has a family to do that.”
“I’m her family,” I bite back, gaining another frown from my mother.
“One day, that might be true, but right now, her family might be more understanding of what she is going through. Besides, how much help can you offer her when you’ve been so angry lately, mijo?”
“How else should I feel? You’re right, okay? I can’t help her. Not like she deserves. But if I’m no good for her now, then when will I ever be?”
My mother’s face falls instantly at my remark.
“No, Santo. Maybe I’m the one who is wrong here. Maybe you are exactly what Elenora needs right now. She came here, didn’t she? Left the comforts of her home to be at your side. That means something.”
“What if all it means is that she had nowhere else to go?”
“A girl like that always has someplace to turn to. She chose you, Santo. And I’m sorry if I insinuated anything different. If she is your family, then she is mine, too. Which means this is her home. Maybe not as fancy as that castle she lives in uptown, but it’s still a home. Filled with love and understanding. If you offer that to her, then that’s enough, mijo.”
“Saint?” Elle’s voice whispers from the hall, interrupting our conversation.
I immediately jump out of my seat and rush toward her, ignoring how my mom giggles behind me from the way I sped over to my girl.
“You okay there, Princess?” I ask, tipping her head up by the chin with one finger to thoroughly inspect her.
Her lush brown hair that is usually so well kept is now in disarray and in desperate need of a comb. Her golden eyes have lost some of their shine, but I vow one day to restore them to their previous glory.
