Page 39 of Fallen Saint

He’s the only thing to break my fall, so I clutch onto his biceps, which are slick with perspiration. His scent is amplified, and unable to help myself, I inhale, relishing his unique fragrance. My body hums in awareness because he is hot and hard, and I desperately want to lick the beads of sweat collecting in the light hair on his chest.

The barbell in his nipple just adds to the appeal, and I wonder what it would feel like under my tongue. I focus on the cursive font across his chest which readsOnly God Can Judge Me.The more time I spend with him, the more I come to understand its meaning.

When the wordSinnertattooed along his flank catches my eye, I gently squeeze his biceps as the tattooed feathers beneath my fingers contradict that claim. Yet his angel wings inked across his back and shoulders complement his name. But who he is and what he does would warrant his wings to be clipped.

Maybe they already have been. Hence the tattoo.

Suddenly, I’m hit with a heartbreaking epiphany. The black armband he has inked under his elbow. I always wondered what it meant, but now, being faced with so much loss, I now know what it means. Tracing it with my finger, I watch as his golden skin breaks out into goose bumps.

“You got this for every person you’ve…?” But I can’t say it. I may accept it, but saying it aloud…baby steps.

“Yes.” He has no problem with what he is. How can he? He is in eternal mourning for his victims, and that armband will forever remind him of what he’s done. I run my fingers over it, knowing it signifies so much. His own personal scarlet A.

His breath is hot and heavy, and I know I’m not the only one affected whenever we touch. I peer up at him from under my lashes. God, I want to kiss him. I want to scale up his hulking body and lose myself forevermore.

His sweatpants sit low on his tapered waist, emphasizing his glorious V muscle. The scars all over his body are like a roadmap, and I want to follow each one with my tongue. He is ripped, rugged, and oozes decadent sinfulness. Each second spent with him has me slipping further into hell.

“A????,” he quietly cautions. His eyes dart to the corner of the room, reminding me to never make the mistake in thinking we’re alone.

With regret, I let him go.

He casually walks over to the water fountain while I reach for my towel. To onlookers, it appears innocent enough, and with the loud music playing over the speakers, if one of Alek’s men were to listen in, all he would hear is Britney Spears.

We have been training in this well-equipped gym each day, ensuring not to rouse any suspicion. So far, we’ve slipped under the radar, but when the doors open and in strolls Alek, I panic, thinking our hoax is up.

Saint slowly wipes the water from his lips, his demeanor as cool as cool can be. I mute the volume on the stereo before coming to a stand by Saint with my arms behind my back and my eyes downcast. The position he told me to take whenever Alek enters a room.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Alek’s smooth, unruffled voice makes me think we’re safe—for now. “We have some business to attend to this evening.”

“Let me get cleaned up. I’ll showa???? to her room.” Saint grips my elbow, ready to escort me, but it appears Alek has other plans.

“No, she’s coming too.”

I measure my breathing, not wanting my nerves to show.

“Okay. If that’s what you want,” Saint replies calmly, tugging on my arm. “Come on.”

However, it seems Alek wants to speak with Saint alone. “Sara is waiting outside. She can help you get ready.”

Just as Saint taught me, I slowly lift my eyes to meet Alek’s. When he addresses me, I’m to look at him. When he doesn’t, I’m not. Alek looks casual in khaki chinos and a blue button-down shirt. But I don’t let his relaxed vibe fool me.

I don’t look at Saint for permission because Alek is my supposed master now, and when he gives a direct order, I’m to jump to command. Nodding, I make a beeline for the door, but I’m not quick enough because Alek reaches out and snares my arm.

Every part of my body wants to rip from his hold, but I stand passive, awaiting Alek’s next move. He runs a fingertip down my forearm, causing me to break out into goose bumps—the kind when something scary is about to happen.

“Tomorrow when you train, I want you to wear something a little less revealing.” He pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to look at him, and I find myself staring into the steel blue eyes of the devil. “I don’t want my men ogling you. Understood?”

With a jerky motion, I bob my head once.

I can’t help but wonder if his comment is directed at Saint. Has he been watching us? I’m hardly parading around in my underwear. I’m in NIKE training leggings, sneakers, and a crop top. The standard gym wear. But tomorrow, I guess I’ll be forced to wear a burlap sack.

“Good girl. Now go get ready.”

I don’t wait for further instruction because when he releases me, I can’t get out of the room quick enough, though I’m worried for Saint. What does he want to talk to him about? But he can look after himself and obeying my “master” is the reason I’m not cuffed to my bed.

Sara is a ball of nerves when I walk out into the hallway. She quickly drags me away, mumbling in French. “Sara?” I question, wondering why she’s edgier than usual. “What’s wrong?”

“Alek has asked me to come with you tonight. That’s never happened before,” she reveals, chewing her bottom lip. I can now understand her concern.

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