Page 44 of Tainted Saints

“Aspen!” Blaine’s panicked voice breaks through the black dots that were blotting my vision, and it’s like the real world comes rushing back in, his face creased as he’s kneeling before me, his chocolate eyes wide. “That’s it, beautiful. Breathe with me, baby.” One of my palms is on his broad chest, his hand holding it there, and I take a gasping inhale when he takes a deep breath. “Good girl, keep breathing.”

His face blurs as tears fill my eyes, slipping beyond my lashes and down my hot cheeks. “I–I’m s–so s–sorry,” I stutter, my voice choked.

“No,mi princesa. I’m sorry if what I said was too much, I thought…coño!” he curses softly, torment furrowing his brows.

“I–it wasn’t the idea of Lan p–punishing me,” I rush out, my breathing almost back to normal. “It was the word. C–c–correction.” I have to take another inhale before I can continue. “I— The Ambassador uses it whenever I’ve done something to displease him. It has a bad effect on me.” I drop my gaze to my lap, unable to confess the shame I feel at my treatment. I know that it’s not my fault, that the extreme punishments aren’t normal, but it’s hard to believe that I’m not in some way to blame. That maybe if I was better I wouldn’t have been locked away in the dark so much.

“Look at me,mi tesoro,” Blaine pleads, and helpless to disobey, I lift my lashes and look into his soulful eyes. “You are perfect, and whatever thatbastardihas done to you is on him. Not you. Understood?”

“I know it’s just…it’s all I’ve ever been told. Sometimes it’s hard not to believe it,” I confess, watching as a deep sigh leaves his lips.

“My father beat my mother to death in front of my eyes when I was a boy, then blamed me, saying that I made him so mad he couldn’t stop,” he tells me in a matter-of-fact tone, a wounded sound falling from my lips as more tears scald my cheeks. “He used to beat us both regularly. This scar is courtesy of him.” I trace the scar over his eye with a fingertip and he shivers at the light touch. I wonder how old he was when his father gave it to him.

“W–where is he now?” I ask, my soul aching for the strong man in front of me who’s been through so much. More than anyone should have.

“Dead.” He doesn’t elaborate, and although I feel there’s so much more to his story than what he’s told me. I don’t pry.

“Good,” I tell him, placing my free hand on his cheek and rubbing over the scar there with my thumb. “I’m glad he can no longer hurt you.”

“But the Ambassador can still hurt you,” he says with his jaw clenched, and his stare turns pained. I bite my lips, unable to say anything in response. He’s right. For now, at least, the Ambassador can still hurt me. Until I turn eighteen in a few weeks, then maybe I can finally get out from under his thumb.

“There are showers down here. Will a hot shower be okay rather than a bath?” I ask him, my eyes begging that he drops the subject of my shitty home life which I am unable to get out of.

“Distracting me with that beautiful body will only get you so far,mi amorsita,” he tells me but helps me get up anyway.

“What doesmi tesoroandmi amorsitamean?” I ask, leading him to the shower facilities we have down here, which are just off the gym.

“They’re Spanish for my treasure and my little love,” he informs me, so casually like he didn’t just almost confess that he loves me. Maybe.

“Oh,” I breathe out, pausing in my steps. He chuckles, the sound caressing all over my skin.

“Come,mi amorsita. Let’s get you clean and maybe a bit dirty again.”

ChapterTwenty-One

“More than Friends” by Isabel LaRosa

ASPEN

“Lil’Lady…” the deep, soothing voice infiltrates my dreams, dragging me from the darkness of sleep.

“Forest?” I ask sleepily, my lashes blinking open to see him crouched next to the bed, the planes of his face highlighted by the half-moon that shines through the open curtains. I blink, expecting this to be a dream, but he’s still there when my eyes open again, looking too beautiful like a forest spirit ready to whisk me away.

“Not just me, sugar,” he says, stroking some hair away from my face.

Twisting, I catch sight of two other shadows in my room, my heart giving a dull thud until they, too, step in the moonlight, and I see it’s Blaine and Landon.

“What are you doing here?” I question as I sit up, the blankets pooling in my lap. Their eyes go to my chest, groans sounding in the quiet.

“I’m going to need you to put something on, Duchess,” Lan growls, and I blink again, looking down and only then remembering that I’m naked.

“Oh, um, sorry. I hate pyjamas,” I tell them, scooting to the edge of the bed, which Forest is standing next to, and slipping out.

“Fucking hell,” Forest hisses, and a small giggle falls from my lips. “It’s not funny, I’m now gonna be walking around with a hard-on.”

“Walking around?” I ask, looking around the room for something to put on. The cool air of the room is like a soothing balm to my overheated skin. I always get so hot sleeping, my nightmares often leaving me a sweaty mess. “What are you guys doing here in the middle of the night?”

“Here,” Landon says, offering me the hoodie that he was just wearing. I want to tell him I have plenty of clothes, but my feet are already taking me closer to him, my heart skipping a beat at having them all in my room.

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