BAD SAINT (All the Pretty Things #1)

Book 2 Five-1

She is safe…for now as Alek is blinded by her perfection. But aren’t we all?

Day 47“HARDER!”

I’m coated in perspiration, and my muscles ache, especially my wounded shoulder, but I embrace the burn because each bead of sweat takes me one step closer to regaining my life. Or, at least, a small sliver.

Saint stands before me shirtless, his ripped body shimmering under the bright lights, but I don’t allow the sight to distract me because we’re here for a reason. He’s teaching me how to fight.

So far, I’ve ended up on my ass more times than I care to admit, but I don’t see that as a failure. It spurs me on to get back up and try harder because each punch and kick on the focus pads and boxing bag has me feeling stronger.

“You’re not even trying!” Saint mocks loudly to be heard over the pop music blaring through the speakers. He waves the focus pads at me while I gnash my teeth together, attempting to prove him wrong.

But he is fast on his feet, and it’s easy to see why he’s good at being a…hitman. It’s still hard for me to stomach that fact, but I have come to accept it because that’s who he’s become to survive. Just as I have become Alek’s perfect submissive.

I have behaved as expected, and because of this, Alek has loosened up a bit, allowing Saint to train me. Saint invented the genius ploy that for me to stay in shape, I was to undergo brutal physical training. He called it bootcamp. He said it was an American thing.

Alek didn’t question it because I did what I was told. He thought the physical exercise was a part of my coaching for Saint to mold me into the perfect docile little lamb. And besides, there were cameras in every corner of the room, so it’s not like we could plot his death.

Saint was right. My virginity seems to be far more important to Alek than a quick roll in the hay. He has respected my wish to have my own bedroom, which has surprised me. I wouldn’t think a man like him would behave remotely like a gentleman.

But that’s exactly what he’s been.

I’m not fooled, though, as I know he’s just looking after his “investment.” That’s all I am to him. Come the night of the masquerade ball, which the date is yet to be announced, it’ll be a completely different story as he will have no qualms taking my virginity in front of a room full of perverted strangers. And I’m sure once I’m no longer a virgin, his chivalry will be long forgotten.

But that won’t happen. I’d rather die than allow myself to be used that way ever again.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Saint’s sarcasm whips me into the now. “If you’ve got someplace better to be, like kneeling at Alek’s feet, then don’t let me stop you.”

Everything fades into the background as I narrow my eyes, intent on knocking that smug grin off his handsome face. “f**k you.”

With a rumble, I charge forward, punching the focus pads he holds with all my might. He’s taught me a few boxing combinations, so when he attempts to knock me on my ass, I duck and deliver an uppercut. He staggers back, smirking.

“Again.”

This continues until I can no longer feel my arms, but giving up isn’t an option. Whenever I lower my guard, Saint knocks me to the floor, scolding me for not trying harder. I know what he’s doing, and it’s working because over the past few days, I have felt myself grow stronger and I’ve learned how to defend myself.

It’s still early days, but with Saint as my teacher, failure isn’t an option. He isn’t gentle. When I lower my guard or am too exhausted to jump to his command, he makes me pay. Bruises cover my body, but each blemish only has me more determined to succeed.

“Jab!” he exclaims, flashing me the mitt, which I punch. “Jab to the body!” He holds the mitt low, which I strike. “Jab to the head! Then body!” I do as he demands, following the sequence and watching his hands…a rookie move.

He kicks out his leg and trips me. I tumble onto my back, cursing my slipup.

“What did I tell you?” he asks. Shaking his head, he removes a mitt and offers to help me up.

“Never take my eyes off my opponent,” I reply between clenched teeth as I reach for his hand. He yanks me up, and thanks to my equilibrium being off, I topple forward.

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 n****e 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 reads Only God Can Judge Me. The more time I spend with him, the more I come to understand its meaning.

When the word Sinner tattooed 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.

“Aнгел,” 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 show aнгел 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.

“Where are we going?” I ask, suddenly sharing her apprehension.

She lifts her shoulders, revealing we’re both going in this blind. If that’s the case, I do the only thing I can to show her she’s not alone. I reach for her hand and squeeze it tight.

Seeing as we had no idea where we were going, Sara and I decided to wear something causal. She’s in a yellow pinafore dress while I opted for a dark blue chiffon mini dress with brown belt. Although it’s sleeveless, the neckline is high, so I don’t feel too exposed. I would give anything to wear my cowboy boots, but as there are none here in my closet, I’ve decided to wear brown ankle boots instead.

Sara waits nervously by the door, and when there is a knock, she yelps, betraying her nerves. She opens it to find Hans standing before her and reveals just how terrified she is by leaping into his arms. Even though this PDA is definitely forbidden, neither seems to care.

They hug one another tightly as Hans assures her it’ll be all right. These walls lack love and warmth, so seeing this foreign sight has tears threatening to break past the floodgates. Something I took for granted once upon a time now has the ability to leave me a blubbering mess.

“It’s okay. We are going to meet a new supplier. That’s all,” Hans says, rubbing Sara’s back as she cries into his chest. “Alek just wants to show off his prettiest girls.” He nervously meets my gaze, which I quickly avert as to not encroach on a private moment.

“Are you sure?” Sara sniffs, slowly pulling away. The moment may have only lasted a few seconds, but it’s enough for now.

“Yes. I overheard him talking to Saint. Don’t worry. I will be there.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Sara whispers, placing her palm to his cheek.

My heart breaks for these two secret lovers who have been brought together by heinous circumstances yet still managed to find beauty in the storm. I admire that. I wish they could watch their love grow freely, but we’re all caged birds with our wings clipped.

“Let’s go.” Saint’s sharp voice has Hans and Sara breaking apart quickly. Her cheeks redden while Hans stands tall, pretending Saint didn’t just catch him in a compromising position.