Page 134 of Taint My Soul

My face twists with pain. I don’t know what to say or do. I stand there and watch the intense devotion in the eyes of the man in front of me.

“This world doesn’t play fair, little devil, and neither should you. And no matter what side of the line you’re standing on, you’ll always have my heart.” He takes my hand and places it on his shirt, not slightly concerned about the blood he’d get on his clothes.

He pulls me closer and presses a kiss on my forehead. God, he’s choosing every part of me. The anger and resentment. The roses and sunshine. All of it.

“Please don’t treat me like I’m broken. I promise I’m not.”

“In my eyes, you’re complete, and the rest of the world doesn’t fucking matter.” He leans on my forehead. “Only you and I.”

“I want to cut my hair…” I whisper, staring at nothing. Saint waits, almost as if he knows I want to speak up again. “I don’t want to go by Mason anymore. And I want you to take me to the docks.”

“I’ll do anything you want, baby.” He lifts me onto the vanity. “Let’s start by patching you up.”

I give him a small smile.

I sit still and watch as he moves around the bathroom. He finds the first aid, and he cleans up my hand, then he wraps it in a bandage. When he finishes, he puts the refuse into the wastebasket. He pulls out a clipper from the lower cabinet and turns it on. The hum fills the air. Sharp and low. Somewhat soothing. Thick black coils of hair falls to the marble vanity one by one. Saint shaves down to the scalp precisely until the cut is even and clean. My heart swells with warmth at the way he handles me. The way he looks at me. With care and consideration. Like that fleeting moment when we met the first time. He turns off the clippers and sets them down beside me.

“We can go to the docks after you’ve gotten some rest.” He presses a kiss to my forehead.

“Okay.” I smile and lock eyes with him.

He pulls off his suit jacket and lays it next to me. Then he folds his long sleeves to his elbows and steps into the glass enclosure. He turns on the water, testing the heat. “Come on, let’s get you in the shower.”

He takes me into the glass shower enclosure and holds me over the lukewarm water. Slow rivulets roll down my skin, unfurling the tension in my muscles. I exhale sharply, face down, shoulders shaking as water patters against the marble floor. Saint lathers the sponge with soap and washes my body from head to toe, then the streaming shower rinses the soap suds down the drain. I walk out and take a towel from the drawer, wrapping it around my lithe frame.

We leave the bathroom together and stop at the dressing room, picking up a pair of pants. His clothes weren’t my size, but they would do for now. “Put this on.” He says, and I take off the towel and hand it to him, then I slip my legs into the oversized sweatpants, wincing from the pain of my wound.

His scent lingers on the fabric and shrouds me. It’s grounding. Calming. Just as I’ve always remembered. Yet I still feel shame and regret. “Does your hand still hurt?”

“Only a little.” I whisper.

“Hmm,” he grunts. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He takes me out of the dressing room to the bedroom and lays me on the sheets. “If there’s anything you need, I’ll be downstairs.”

“Aren’t you going to give me a kiss?” I ask quietly while I straighten up from the bed.

“I’m sorry.” He leans back and presses his lips against mine, taking his time with me.

“Thank you,” I say.

“Anything for you, baby.” He chuckles as he leaves me in the silence.

SAINT

My shoulders fall with ease as I take the stairs to the living room. I take off my jacket and drop it on the arm of the couch, striding across the floor to meet my brothers and sister already sitting at the table. Olivia looks behind me, then glances up at me with a lifted brow. “Isn’t he coming to eat?”

“He’s asleep. I can feed him later.” I say and settle into the chair.

“Father wants to see you.” Virgil says. He lifts a spoonful of the steaming brown rice and brings it to his mouth.

“I’ll see father when I want to see him. I’m busy.” I clear my throat and plate my food.

I called my siblings for lunch. I wanted them to know the truth about me. But I also want us to feel like a family again. Not just when father wants a soldier and a king to control.

Around me, my siblings eat silently. No words exchanged.

“Everything okay?” Cross, who’s opposite me, asks.