Page 22 of No Saint

And she would listen when I told her I don’t want other men seeing what ismine. It didn’t matter who or why, her, her body, everything, it was mine and I donotfucking share.

I will fucking brand her if I have to.

My fingers curl into my palm, muscles tense.

All of this for the boy.

I wanted her secrets. I wanted to know why she flinches when one moves too quick, how she learned to defend herself. Where she grew up and how she ended up in that run down, shitty apartment with my nephew.

Her files were extensive to a point, I had her medical history, her education, where she worked, or used to at least, and the information that made her a citizen, but those experiences, those life lessons, they weren’t things you would find in a file.

She would give them to me, she would give all of herself to me.

With a sigh, I drop the towel and climb into the bed, letting the sheets cover me.

There was a long road ahead.

_

I’m awake before everyone else in the house minus a few staff who prepare breakfast in the kitchen. My shoes clip against the marble floors as I make my way through the house, passing the pool room with its sliding glass doors and into the yard where the wedding has been set up. The arch at the end has been braided with pale flowers, the white carpet littered with petals and chairs are sat on each side, enough to sit a hundred.

It was a wedding.

All girls dream of weddings, right? It was the least I could do to give it something special for her because it was the only one she was getting.

There would be no party though. Not yet.

The view of the ocean sits beyond the arch and the sky is clear, a cloudless day.

I drink my coffee there, watching the water while the house wakes and begins to prepare.

Behind me, I hear steps before Atlas joins me at my side.

“Brother,” I greet.

“You’re marrying the girl.” He says.

“I am.”

“Why? Lucas didn’t.”

“Lucas ignored his own son. A Saint. It was wrong for him to do so.”

“Perhaps these traditions are outdated.”

I glance towards the younger of the twins, born an hour after his brother, Asher. They were the result of infidelity by my father. My mother had never forgiven and hated that they remained and reminded her of his infidelity. The twins knew she despised them, but they remained nonetheless and growing, we had had a good relationship.

“You believe I shouldn’t marry the girl.”

“I don’t care for the girl,” he growls, “Or the boy. They were better off where they were.”

“That is your nephew.”

He scoffs, “Last I checked, family only counts when you’re pure.”

I sigh. “What is this about, Atlas?”

“It’s about forcing people away from the only things they know and for what? They don’t gain anything from it.”

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