Sanctum (Sacred Series Book 1)

by K. Michelle

  I stretch my neck, rolling it in a circle, feeling the joints pop in relief, then doing the same with my back and fingers. Unable to hear anything over the music, my phone lights up out of the corner of my eye. I go over and see his name.

  Russo: Open up, Little One.

  Me: What, forgot how to pick a lock?

  Russo: I was being conscientious. I’ll make sure that next time, I’m not.

  Rolling my eyes, I head to the door and unlock it. When I open it, Cohen and Evan are standing there. I may not like them, but I’m not blind. These two should not be able to roam around together. It could make girls act stupid.

  “Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dumb, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “I better be Tweedle-dee,” Evan pipes up, making me chuckle. He’s one of the few guys I don’t mind, always kept to ourselves in school. The two of us were neutral on the terms of a head nod when passing in the halls, and he knew things with Cohen and I were … different. Do I like Evan? I wouldn’t say that. I just don’t detest him like I do Cohen. Probably because I don’t have the urge to jump his bones as I do with Cohen.

  My eyes shift to Russo, and I lift an eyebrow. “Can I help you?” I say, interrupting his eyes from traveling up and down my body. Feeling every spot his eyes touch, I’m doing everything in my power not to react physically.

  “Yes, you can actually. We need your … assistance.”

  “Are you seriously too prideful to say the word ‘help?’”

  “Is it not enough that I’m asking you in the first place?” Cohen stalks past the entrance putting his body directly in front of mine, but I don’t move back. He’s not the king of this territory, so he won’t have the dominance over me he’s looking for.

  I press my finger against his chest, pushing him back outside. “You don’t get to act like you’re doing me a favor by being in my presence. You’re requesting me to do you a favor, in which I’ll make you ask nicely for, and then I will decide if I’ll do you a favor. See how that works, Russo?” I cock my head, not breaking eye contact with him. A flame lights in his hazel eyes, and I suddenly have the urge to play with fire. I step backward, walking towards my canvas and grabbing my brushes to wash them out, leaving Cohen and Evan to come in on their own.

  I yell over my shoulder, “So, what on God’s green Earth do you need my help with that you boys can’t work your way around?”

  “Sally,” Cohen mutters from behind me.

  I flip around to face him. “Fuck the hell off, Russo. You don’t touch Sally.”

  His eyebrow raises as he’s just discovered my second Achilles heel, and Evan stares at us like we’ve lost our every marble. He’s not wrong.

  “I don’t want to touch her, Little One. I just need some information.”

  “You. Need information. From Sally? Will one of you actually speak in sentences and explain what the hell it is that you need?”

  Evan muffles his laugh as Cohen continues, “I have information that needs following up. Dennis is the man that can do the job. However, I don’t want him knowing that it’s me needing this information.”

  “Then next time say Dennis. I don’t involve Sally in anything that I don’t need to, for her protection.” If anything from my past, or the reason I came back to Lake Meadows, were to fall back on her, I wouldn’t forgive myself. And I do not trust Cohen.

  He rolls his eyes at me. “Can you do it or not? I’d rather delegate these minute tasks than waste any more of my breath tracking this down.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Text me whatever information you need.”

  “No, I don’t want a trail. You’ll meet us tomorrow, and we will go over everything with you.”

  “Dessa, would you be willing to meet us tomorrow to go over the details? Sure, Cohen, since you asked so nicely.”

  Evan chuckles in the corner again while looking at my artwork. Cohen walks towards me, bringing his hand up to my face. I don’t flinch, but I do blink, and I inwardly chastise myself for it.

  “Do I scare you, Little One?” he repeats, bringing back a flood of memories, ones that have him pushing me up against a locker.

  “I play with monsters like you in the dark, Cohen.”

  “You’re more foolish than I thought.”

  “Why? Because only you can hurt me? I hate to break it to you, but I’ve been hurt by plenty more than you.”

  “Then I want a list of names, and I will cross off each one as I make them pay for their sins against you. Because that’s what I do, Dessa, I make the sinners repent.”

  My breathing escalates, and Cohen walks me back against the wall as I take in his words. The girl in the woods inside me wants to lap up every drop of water Cohen decides to give me. I bite my tongue as hard as I can, so I don’t ask what he’s implying.

  “You know what this means, right?” I say through my breaths. Our eyes roam over each other’s faces, his hazel eyes questioning me. “It means you owe me.”

  Cohen’s lips cock up into a smile, one capable of stopping me in my tracks, his long dirty-blond hair thrown over to the side, and those eyes drill into mine. “Tonight,” he states.

  “No.” I can’t risk losing myself in him again because my guard goes down the moment my boots break the branches I step on to, to lead myself back there.

  His stare challenges mine.

  “I think I found a hidden hotdog in your painting!” Evan yells from across the room, breaking the tension, causing both of us to close our eyes on an exhale.

  “Tonight,” he says with finality. “I believe our work here is done.”

  “About time,” Evan complains.

  “Awe, did Daddy take too long?” I patronize him.

  “He sure as fuck ain’t my father, but I’m more than willing to let you call me Daddy.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and I laugh while Cohen bares his teeth.

  “If you’re a good boy, we’ll just have to wait and see.”

  “You,” Cohen points to Evan, “Won’t see shit. We’re done here.”

  Both Evan and I look at each other and hold back laughter. They leave and my studio gets a lot quieter. I look around, the rage inside me has subsided, but I want to keep that emotion going for this piece. So, I put everything away and lock up, heading to my small apartment not too far from my art studio. I hang my bag up, take off my boots, and head to the kitchen to grab a hot pocket out of the freezer, as I can’t be bothered to cook tonight. The clock is nagging at me. I need to keep my mind busy, so I pull out my phone and scroll through Instagram. Then I repaint my nails black. Then I start Netflix.

  Why the hell is nothing distracting me?

  It’s because I feel him. I feel Cohen’s pull just like I felt it when I was younger. When my mom would smack me around for interrupting her and her boyfriend, when I lived on the streets but kept it hidden from everyone. Even when I lived with Sally. I felt it every single time. I groan as loud as possible to let the universe know I’m pissed off at it. Then I grab my keys, bundle up, and hop in my car to head to the woods after promising myself I wouldn’t.

  Here’s the thing, as much as I hate Cohen, I crave him. I ache for the Cohen in the woods that only I get. I can deny it all I want, but I missed it when I was gone. It shocked me how I still felt the tug, even thousands of miles away, his darkness calling to mine. At the stroke of midnight, our monsters come out to play, even if it was just silently sitting next to each other. Those were the only times I didn’t feel so lonely.

  Parking my car on the outside pull-off of the woods, I start my trek. It’s drizzling and fucking cold this October. I’m wearing my black boots, black leggings, and an oversized sweater with a bomber jacket thrown over. My hair is still a damn rat’s nest, so I throw my hood over and call it good. I haven’t been in these woods at night since graduation. It’s always different out here during the day. These dark woods would scare most, but I feel more at home here than I do anywhere else.

  I look up from the ground and a hand covers my mouth from behind. Ye
lping, I grab the arm out of instinct before his other arm wraps around my body, preventing me from doing so. Inside his strong hold, my arms pinned to my sides, my feet slightly lift off the ground.

  Every curve of Cohen’s 6’1” frame is against my back, and his lips brush my ears. “Shhh,” Cohen’s voice trickles from my ear down my neck. I close my eyes and calm my frantic pulse, only hearing the sound of my breathing and the heavy beat of my heart. “Good girl.”

  Those words cause me to groan. I couldn’t stop it if I wanted to. Cohen quietly chuckles into the crook of my neck before he runs his nose up my neck, taking in my scent. As quickly as he grabbed me, his touch is gone. I turn around and see him in all black as usual, his hair is in a low bun with a black ball cap hooding his face. I hate him for looking so good. I hate him how you hate your favorite chocolate cake. The calories are a bitch, but I’d eat that cake all night.

  We stare each other down for a few minutes before he grabs my hand and leads us towards the fort, which is still in surprisingly good condition—same wood, new pillows. “This place hasn’t changed at all,” I say as Cohen clicks on the same dim Christmas lights hung around the fort. “You kept it up without changing much.”

  He shrugs and plops down on a chair in the corner, throwing me a can of Coke. I try to suppress my smile by biting my lips.

  I detest Pepsi. He doesn’t. The fact he has Coke here is the first, dare I say sweet, or at least observant, thing he’s done. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t sweat it.”

  “So …” I have no words to say, and this is one of the first times the silence has felt uncomfortable. It never has before, but something has shifted. Probably because the last time we were here, things … happened.

  He continues to stare at me through hooded eyes, thick eyebrows pinched together and his signature glare firmly in place. “Why are you back here, Dessa?”

  “You told me to come.” I try to navigate away from the question I know he’s asking.

  “You know what I mean. Why?”

  “Do I need an explanation? And if I did, I sure as hell don’t have to give it to you.”

  “Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, babe,” he says, and I give him a perplexed look.

  “Why don’t you explain to me why you feel entitled to know every decision I make and the reasoning for them. I don’t have to explain jack to you.”

  “Dessa, anything concerning you, is my business. It would do you well to remember that.”

  My eyes roll. “Let’s just say I was searching for something, and I didn’t find it in California.”

  “And it’s here in Lake Meadows? Interesting.” He taps a pack of cigarettes and puts one in his mouth without lighting it.

  “It’s not you, you jack-wagon.”

  A rare smile pulls at his lips, and that’s when I know he’s finally let his guard down. So, in turn, I lower mine a little.

  “Why did you leave me like you did the last time we were here, Cohen?” I finally blurted out the question that’s nagged the small sensitive part of my heart. I look down, picking at the fresh polish I just painted. He’s quiet, so I peek up at him, and he’s mulling over his reply.

  “I wanted you gone. Needed it. And you hating me made it easier for you to leave. No second guesses.”

  “I wouldn’t have stayed for your ass even if you cuddled me till the sun rose,” I add with sarcasm, but he doesn’t pick up on it.

  “I needed you to leave without wanting to look back at me. I needed your hatred and pride to prevent you from doing so. I had to make sure of that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m no good for you, Dessa.” He takes the unlit cigarette from his lips and throws it as he stands and walks towards me. I’m already leaning against the wall, never having sat down. His arms cage me in, but I don’t feel held down. I feel free.

  “Tell me, Dessa.” His head lowers to my neck, and he nips at my skin. I shake my head then tilt it to allow him more access. “You are infuriating. You know that, right?” I nod, eyes still closed and soaking in every sense and nerve he’s lighting on fire. “Tell me, Little One.”

  Licking my lips, I take a deep breath, giving in to what he’s been asking. “I missed the way you made me feel.”

  “Made? I think you’re still feeling it, am I wrong?” His hand slides around my neck and gently squeezes. Every muscle in my body clenches in excitement, and my heart starts to race. I shake my head.

  “Words, Dessa. Give me your words.”

  “No. You’re not wrong.” I snap open my eyes and take him by surprise by bringing my own hand up around his neck. “Now give me your words, Cohen. Make them mean something,” I manage to say it firmly as if his touch isn’t lighting me on fire. I see the same flame blaze in those hazel eyes.

  “You drive me fucking crazy,” he leans forward, biting my bottom lip, “I looked for you in the eyes of every woman I laid mine on. But none of them had the fire that you have in yours. Yours hold a match that lights mine, and you don’t back down from me. As much as it pisses me off, it makes me want you more than I want to breathe. And even if you don’t think so, you’re good, Dessa. So damn good,” pausing, he licks his lips, “And it makes me want to ruin you even more than I already do.” He tries to kiss me, but I plant my finger against his lips, stopping his descent.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Russo.” I drag my finger down, pulling his lip with it. “I’m already ruined—tainted—by the hands of you and anyone else to ever touch me. So, what are you so afraid of?”

  Then he attacks my mouth, and I return the assault with just as much fervor. Our hands pull off our jackets, and his mouth fuses to mine, only breaking away to pull our shirts over our heads. Our mouths retreat to each other like magnets. He slams me back against the wall, wood splintering from the jolt. With his right hand back on my throat, his free hand pushes my leggings down. Frantic and desperate, I pull at his jeans, and as soon as he’s free, he grips my thighs, and they wrap around his waist on their own.

  Rational thoughts be damned, my body takes what it wants.

  “Ready, Little One?” With an eyebrow raised, his eyes dart back and forth between mine. I answer by grabbing his length between us and lining him up, slowly sliding down onto him. He fills me up, and the air leaves my lungs.

  “Fuuuuuck.” His head falls on my shoulder, and my hand grabs the back of his head to keep him there so he can’t see my face. I’ve only been with one person, one time, and that was almost five years ago in this very spot, which makes this slightly uncomfortable, and I don’t want him to see that. But as he moves, the sharpness dulls, and a whole new throb begins.

  Cohen lifts his head, and he gives me his eyes. Both of us communicating everything we need to in our heavy breaths and loud sighs. Every second I’ve spent without him is being refilled this very moment, making up for all the times we weren’t together. My lids grow heavy, every sensation overwhelming every part of me.

  “Eyes.” I snap them back open at the sharp command. “Good girl.” Those words cause my thighs to clench tighter around him. Growling, he picks up the pace, hitting every right spot there is to hit. I come apart in his arms, and he unravels in mine. We catch our breath, but we haven’t moved an inch. Neither of us breaking the mood we’ve set because the moment we open our mouths, this disappears. After what feels like several minutes still pinned against the fort, I break away first.

  “If you leave like you did last time, Cohen, I will make your life miserable in ways even you won’t comprehend.”

  Cohen chuckles, his teeth showing in a full smile, and it makes me dizzy. His eyes bore into mine. “No. No more running, Dessa.”

  He can’t be communicating what I think he is. Is he? I still have a lot of hate to give, and he can’t be turning the tables on me now. I enjoy the banter between us too much. He turns around and scribbles something on paper, ruffling through our jackets as I put my clothes on. “This doesn’t mean I like you, you know. We aren
’t friends. It’s just us in the woods.” I feel the need to reiterate this.

  “Okay,” he says, but it sounds more like an agreeance just to please me.

  “I’m serious, Russo. We aren’t good for each other.”

  He turns back towards me, the muscles in his abdomen flexing as he walks nearer.

  “Sure thing,” he says as he boops my nose.

  Did he just boop my nose? This night is turning out so damn weird. And I’m pretty sure we didn’t even really talk about anything. He just lured me out here for a forest fuck. I’m fairly sure of it. I shake off the fog in my head and try to grab my jacket from him.

  “Tomorrow,” he says before letting go of my jacket.

  “I know, I know.” With a final tug, he lets go, and I bundle up.

  Just before walking out the door, I pause when he speaks.

  “It’s always been only you, Dessa, ever since we were kids. I found you, and that made you mine. You have never been anything other than mine.”

  I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and walk away. He’s testing me. So, I do the one thing I know he’s waiting for.

  I don’t look back as I leave.

  My head snaps up to my opened front door to see the figure of a certain blonde I can still taste on my tongue from last night. I give her a questioning look, seeing as she just walked into my locked-up home without a key.

  “What? Your idea of home security is comical. I literally just barged in, and you didn’t even know.”

  My eyes remain on her, quite baffled if I’m being honest.

  “Oh, come on, I’m seasoned honey. I was on the streets for like a year and had to learn how to live. Don’t act like you didn’t know this.”

  What. The. Fuck.

  Dessa pauses and slowly turns to me. “You didn’t know that, did you? How did you not know that? With all the ‘I know everything about you’ speech … I hid it from you, but I assumed you figured it out.”