From the top of my head, to the tips of my toes, I tremble at his words. I’m alight with both excitement and fear. Something about this man instills heat inside me, it warms me for a moment, but then I wonder what he’s truly doing here.
“I’ll see you at dinner this evening,” I nod, averting my gaze from his, because I know the moment I look into those deep dark pools, I’ll be lost in the abyss.
His hand catches my arm, his grip tight, but he doesn’t hurt me. He leans in farther, allowing his lips to brush along the column of my neck, just behind my ear.
“I don’t like playing games, little nun,” he murmurs low and gravelly. “So, you either help me get the information I need in here, or I send you across the border where they’ll fuck you up so bad, you won’t recognize yourself.”
Tugging my arm free, I glance up at him, meeting his endless gaze with a sardonic smile. “Nothing, and I mean nothing, can fuck me up more than I already am.” I step away, needing air to breathe that isn’t filled with his woodsy, spicy scent. “You'd do yourself a favor by not judging every book by its cover,” I bite out before turning on my heel and leaving him. I can feel his stare, hot on my back as I make my way into the church, which sits not far from where the guest block is.
The moment I step inside the cool interior, I can inhale deeply, not worrying about smelling that arrogant asshole who thinks he’s God’s gift to women. I don’t need a knight in shining armor, or inked armor, or whatever the fuck he is.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Alexia asks in a hushed whisper when she steps up beside me. The altar is empty, except for the candles that sit on the baptism table.
“What do you mean?”
She glances at me, narrowing her blue eyes as she grins. “He’s here. Back for you? Or back to break all the church rules?” She waggles her eyebrows, causing my face to flush with heat.
“I don’t know why he’s here, but whatever he wants, I’m not going to be the one to give it to him.” My retort is hot, feisty, but deep down, I don’t really feel it because I know the moment Mr. Tall, Mysterious, and Handsome asks me for something, I’ll do it without hesitation.
Kahn
And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those that trespass against us.
Seeing her again was a shock. Even though I knew she was here, in this convent, being close to her disarmed me. I never expected her to remember me. The softness of her lips beckoned me, but I behaved. For now.
Her words sit in my chest like a warning I don’t want to consider. She said she’s already broken, but what the hell does that mean? Surely she’s had a fairly good life, she lives in a fucking convent. But then I recall the night I first saw her, the way she held onto that rosary as if it were meant to give her the answers to life.
I bet it never did.
The room I’m in is nothing more than a square space with a small metal bed and a door which I’m guessing leads to a toilet. The lodgings aren’t five stars, but at least I’ll have some peace and quiet during the short time I’ll be living here.
I’m still thinking about Maeve when my phone beeps. Pulling it from my pocket, I slide my thumb across the screen to unlock it. A message from the boss man waits for me. Quickly, I scan the information then flop onto the bed, trying to make sense of why he sent me here.
He knows my background, he knows what happened to my sister, and he also knows how hell bent on revenge I am. I need to find her because I know she’s still alive. If she had been murdered, I would’ve felt it. I know I would’ve.
Growing up, we were close. We spent all our time together and having her gone has left me empty in ways I can’t explain. But I’ve found purpose from her disappearance. My focus is on finding the asshole who took her, and the moment I do, I’ll kill him.
No.
Not just kill.
I’ll torture him until he bleeds out before me. I want to see his eyes dim as the life drains from him. Only then will I be at peace.
God teaches us to forgive, but there’s no forgiveness when it comes to the evil that I know my sister faces. And I’d rather be damned to Hell by getting the revenge I crave before leaving her in that darkness to wither away.
I’ve seen girls who come back from that. I’ve seen survivors. And there’s nothing left of them. They’re broken and tormented to the point of nonexistence. I failed in keeping her safe before, but I won’t fail again.
There’s a knock on the bedroom door, causing me to still for a moment. I don’t know anyone here, only the pretty nun, who I know for a fact wants me. I push off the bed and make my way to the door, twisting the handle before pulling it open.
On the threshold of my bedroom is the girl in question. I’m not sure how old she is, but I would have to guess somewhere in her twenties, very early twenties at that.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, stepping aside to allow her into the room. I doubt she’s allowed in here, but she walks inside anyway. “I asked you a question.”
“And I’ll answer you once you close the door,” she mumbles, but she doesn’t look at me. Instead she settles on the edge of the bed, toying with the bedspread.
I shut the door, locking it, before folding my arms across my chest and leaning against the wall. I want nothing more than to go to her, to taste her lips again, but I don’t. For the time being, I behave myself, but deep down, my body is reacting to her.
She’s no longer wearing her habit. She's wearing a long flowing skirt and a top that’s tight covering her arms and torso, the neckline sitting at the slender column of her neck.
“So?”
“I need your help,” she finally speaks, and her voice sounds like a million tinkling glass ornaments dancing in the breeze.
I arch a brow, pushing away from the wall to settle at the small desk which sits against the opposite wall. “Oh?”
“I don’t belong here,” she tells me. “I… I don’t know why I ever thought joining the convent would be a good idea, but God can’t save me from the darkness, and…” Her words trickle into nothing, and I’m left staring at her in the silence of the small space.
“And?”
She fidgets, her body is trembling, as if she’s about to go to confession and admit to a murder or something just as bad. Her long dark hair hangs down her back, and her wide, azure eyes seem like endless pools of defiance and pain all wrapped up in a small package that I want to tear apart with my teeth.
“I need to leave here, but they won’t allow me to until I’ve completed my studies. Please, when you go… take me with you?” This time, her gentle eyes meet mine, and it’s almost as if she can see right through me. To the very heart and soul that are blackened by my life’s experiences.
I have a feeling, though, that she’s been through the same type of pain and agony that I’ve become accustomed to. But I don’t ask, that is something that she should tell me when she’s ready. Forcing someone to confess their secrets doesn’t make them feel safe, and for now, I want her to feel that with me.
Instead, I ask the question that is burning the tip of my tongue. “What makes you think I can save you?”