Page 62 of Saint

Embedded

Violet

Everything is sore. MusclesI’ve never felt ache as I roll over and blink open my eyes.

Kole’s room is dark, except for the single beam of light streaming through the cracked bathroom door. It’s quiet, and I know he’s not in there. I vaguely remember watching the back of his head as he slipped out of the bedroom earlier.

Rolling onto my back, I clutch my stomach and try to settle the nerves welling up.

I should have left after the bath, but I was too tired to argue when Kole carried me back to his bed. My body gave out at the same time as my eyes, and I must have fallen asleep the moment I rested my head on the pillow.

The bath helped soothe some of the pain, but now that I’m awake, it’s rushing back. Soreness in places so deep my entire body aches.

Lifting to sit, I look around Kole’s room, taking it all in. When he first pulled me inside earlier, I was too distracted by what was happening to focus on my surroundings. But now, alone, I roam over the details.

It’s a large open space with big pieces of furniture. A four-poster bedframe that is the focus of the space. A desk and couch sit against one wall and a bookcase on another. Everything about Kole’s room is surprisingly normal when part of me expected to be met with whips and chains.

On the surface, it’s what I’d expect of Kole—cold, undecorated—the opposite of my view of Saint. And while the somewhat boring façade of his bedroom should probably be comforting, it’s an unsettling reminder of how well he is at disguising himself when he needs to.

Glancing down, I spot Mila’s dress in shreds on the floor next to the bed. She’s going to kill me—if Saint doesn’t first.

Noise comes from the other side of the bedroom door as people shuffle down the hallway, and reality rushes back. I need to get out of here before Kole returns. Just because I survived him once doesn’t mean I will a second time.

He didn’t take my virginity sweetly; he ripped it out of me. And if there’s a possibility that was him taking it easy on me for my first time, I don’t know what he considers rough.

Kole is Saint.

Saint is cruel.

What he’s done so far is probably just a hint of what he’s capable of.

He carved himself into my skin and embedded himself into my soul. I still taste his blood on my tongue and feel his grip on my throat.

My fingers rub the column of my neck, and my stomach jumps at the memory of him holding me tighter. Of him pulling my face to his and making my insides flutter.

What’s wrong with me?

Climbing out of bed, I stop at the pile of scraps that was once Mila’s dress, and my hopes of salvaging it are dashed when I realize it’s completely torn in two.

I can’t walk out of here wearing that, so I head to Kole’s closet instead.

Opening it, I’m relieved when I don’t find someone chained and gagged sitting on the floor.

I dig through Kole’s drawers and pull out a T-shirt and a pair of sweats. They’re swimming on me, so I roll the waistband down and tie the T-shirt to make them fit better.

More voices kick up in the hallway as I stop in front of a mirror to brush my hair off my face and try to make myself presentable. My makeup has been completely washed off and my hair is flat now that the product has been rinsed out of it.

The faint bruising on my skin is showing again, so I grab a sweater off Kole’s desk chair and wrapmyself in it.

I really hope my roommates are sleeping when I get back to the dorm or they’re going to have a million questions about me walking in looking like this.

I dig through the scraps of Mila’s dress. I find my purse and phone and see texts from my mom and Mila. Mom is asking about how my psychology test went, so I skip to Mila’s texts, realizing I didn’t tell her where I was going before I disappeared upstairs with Kole.

Mila: You okay? You disappeared.

Mila:Earth to Violet. Where are you?

Mila:Seriously, I’m sending out a search party if you don’t respond to me.

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