Page 76 of Corrupted Saint


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When I return to the bedroom, Ivy is awake.

She is sitting on the window seat, wrapped in the duvet, staring out at the ocean. The storm has completely cleared, leaving the sky a piercing, innocent blue.

She hears the lock click. She turns.

Her eyes are guarded. The softness of sleep is gone, replaced by the memory of last night. She blushes when she looks at me, a flush rising from her chest to her cheeks. She remembers. She remembers begging. She remembers the way she shattered around me.

"You locked me in," she says. It’s an accusation, but it lacks heat.

"I keep what is mine secure," I say, walking into the room.

I place the black box on the bedside table.

"Did you... did you kill him?" she asks. "The man with the drone?"

"Yes."

She flinches. She looks down at her hands. "Does it ever bother you? taking a life?"

"Does it bother the gardener to pull a weed?" I ask. "No. He does it so the rose can bloom."

I walk over to her. I offer my hand.

"Come here."

She looks at my hand. She hesitates.

"Ivy."

She takes it. Her hand is small and warm in mine.

I lead her to the bed. "Sit."

She sits on the edge of the mattress, clutching the duvet around her naked body. Her bare feet dangle above the floor.

I kneel in front of her.

It is a position of worship, theoretically. But when I do it, it feels like a threat. I am lowering myself only to gain better access to her vulnerability.

I reach out and take her left ankle.

She stiffens. "What are you doing?"

I rest her foot on my thigh. Her skin is pale against the black tactical fabric of my pants. Her ankle is slender, delicate. I could snap it with one hand.

"I have a gift for you," I say.

I reach for the box on the nightstand.

Ivy watches me, curiosity warring with suspicion. "You gave me a ring yesterday. Is this... is this an apology for the handcuffs?"

"Not an apology," I say, opening the box. "An upgrade."

She looks at the platinum band nesting in the velvet. It glitters in the sunlight.

"An anklet?" she asks. "It’s... simple. Modern. Not like the ring."

"It’s special," I say.