Page 69 of Body and Soul

I ducked my head, pleased. “You think Shepherd will like it?”

“Oh, I have no doubt he will. But more importantly, how do you feel about them?”

I considered the question for a moment. “I feel... powerful. Desirable. Like I'm finally becoming the version of myself I've always wanted to be.”

“That's catnip to a dom like Shepherd,” he said. “Trust me.”

He held up a studded leather belt. “Now, let's get you some accessories to complete the look.”

For the next hour, Gavin helped me pick out pieces for my new aesthetic: heavy black boots with chunky soles and gleaming silver buckles, leather bracelets adorned with spikes and chains, and a handful of necklaces.

At the register, unease prickled at my neck as if eyes were boring into me. I glanced around but saw no one paying undue attention; other shoppers were engrossed in their browsing. Ishook my head, attributing it to nerves about the upcoming contract amendments with Shepherd.

My attention snapped to the cashier as she read my total, and my jaw dropped. It was more than I’d spent on clothes in my life—an obscene amount. I glanced at Gavin uncertainly, but he simply nodded toward the shiny black credit card Shepherd had given me.

“Relax, Eli,” Gavin said. “Shepherd wants you to have nice things; he wouldn't have given you that card otherwise.”

My fingers trembled as I swiped the card and signed the receipt, nerves and excitement fluttering in my stomach. Spending Shepherd's money felt illicit, thrilling—like he was claiming me in a whole new way.

Gavin and I exited the store, arms laden with sleek black bags. He checked his phone, brow furrowed. “There’s a store on the second level I want to check out—some new leather gear,” he said. “Want to join or explore on your own?”

I hesitated, torn. I wanted to shop with Gavin, enjoying his company and advice, but I wasn’t interested in leather. An art supply store across the way caught my eye, and I wanted coffee from the food court.

“I’ll check out that art supply store,” I said, pointing. “Want to meet back here in an hour?”

Gavin checked his watch and nodded. “Works for me. Have fun and be careful with that credit card, yeah?” He winked before heading off toward the escalators.

The store was a wonderland of art supplies: rows of colored pencils, markers, and paints in every hue; racks of canvas; specialty paper with various textures. I wandered the aisles in a daze, running my fingers over the smooth wood of drawing pencils and soft paintbrush bristles.

In the back, I discovered a section for tattoo art, with binders of intricate flash designs covering a large table. I flipped througheagerly, admiring bold lines and vivid colors, until a book on Japanese tattooing caught my eye. I picked it up, immersing myself in stunning images of koi fish, samurai, and dragons.

Engrossed in the tattoo art book, I didn't notice a group approaching until they crowded into my personal space. I glanced up, startled, to find myself surrounded by grim-faced men and women, their hard, cold eyes and tense body language radiating menace. A sinking dread made me recognize them as cult members.

The man in front, tall and wiry with a shaved head and piercing blue eyes, loomed closer. “Elias.” He plucked the book from my hands and passed it to someone else. “Where’s your friend?”

My mouth went dry with fear, but I forced myself to meet his gaze. “He’s around the corner,” I lied.

He snorted. “You know it’s a sin to lie.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. The man's cold, merciless eyes bored into me. “I’m not lying,” I insisted, but my voice wavered, betraying my fear.

The others pressed closer, their expressions hard and unforgiving. The woman to my left, her graying hair in a severe bun, spoke next. “We saw you talking to that FBI agent, Elias. Divulging information about God’s chosen to outsiders is a grave sin.”

My blood ran cold. They knew about my meeting with Valentine. Were they watching me? Panic clawed at my throat, but I fought to keep my expression neutral. “I didn't tell him anything,” I said, but the denial sounded weak.

The bald man sneered. “Do you take us for fools? We have eyes and ears everywhere. We know you’ve been cozying up to the feds, betraying your family—the family that saved you from your life of sin.”

I flinched, shame and anger warring inside me. “You didn't save me,” I bit out, voice shaking. “What you did wasn't salvation; it was abuse. Torture. You tried to break me.”

The bald man scowled at my defiance and raised his hand as if to strike me. I braced for the blow, muscles tensing, but a familiar voice sliced through the silence.

“Is there a problem here?”

I whipped around to see Gavin striding toward us, expression hard and eyes glinting with fury. He moved with lethal grace, radiating dominance.

The cult members turned to face him, their stances wary. The bald man squared his shoulders, preparing for a confrontation. “This is a private matter,” he said, tone clipped. “It doesn't concern you.”

Gavin stopped in front of the man, looming over him. He stared him down, unflinching. “On the contrary, anything that concerns Eli concerns me.” His voice was low and controlled, but I heard the steel beneath. “So I'll ask again—is there a problem?”

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