Sanctum (Sacred Series Book 1)

by K. Michelle

  “I’m trying, Cohen. But I need to know and be a part of this. Remember the reins? They’re still in my hands, but I’m trying to share them with you. Don’t keep overpowering me.”

  “Always wanting to top me.” He rolls over me, peppering sweet, warm kisses all over my neck. “You’ll learn one day how this power thing between you and me works.”

  “Let me get this right. I actually have the power, but we both let you think you have the power?”

  Cohen chuckles and shakes his head into the crook of my neck, his warmth surrounding me. “I was going to say no, nothing like that. But it’s kind of like that,” he sits up and leans on his hand, “It’s my power in this relationship, as a man, to empower you. Give you the freedom between us to feel like you could do more than you ever could on your own.”

  I set my hand on his cheek and smile at him, lifting, so my lips are just a breath away from his. “If you want to keep your power, you’ll never talk about another woman wearing your clothes again. Are we clear?” I add a cock to my head and attitude in my eyes. He laughs, and I savor every image of him wearing that smile. Throwing off the covers, I get out of bed, still decorated in my black lingerie. I look over my shoulder as my messy blonde hair falls down my back and memorize the lust on his face as he licks his bottom lip. I face forward with a smile and walk to the bathroom to turn on the shower. I know he’s following close behind, watching me unhook every strap.

  The moment I hold my bra out to the side and drop it to the floor, Cohen growls at my back. He spins me around, grabs behind my thighs, and picks me up as we step into the shower. My legs wrap around him, and he holds me under the water for a minute before backing me against the wall. He isn’t as rough and hurried as I’m used to him being.

  “I don’t have a point to prove anymore, Little One,” his eyes meet mine, “Your eyes always give away your thoughts.” A smile follows my exhale, and I lean my forehead against his as he presses into me. “The only thing I have now is time. I have time to give and time to take. And I plan on doing both, Dessa.”

  He surprises me when he sets me down and grabs my body wash, his eyes never once leaving mine. Turning me around and placing my hands on the shower wall, he starts at my shoulders, massaging the soap into my muscles, the steam of the shower relaxing every joint in my body. My head drops, and I moan in bliss. No one has ever given me a massage before, and I’m missing the fuck out.

  His hands work down my back, and I go to drop my arms, but he stops and grabs them. “Hands don’t move from this spot.”

  I nod in response, putting my hands back where they were, and he resumes in the middle of my back. Cohen’s touch lightens and deepens in different areas, then both of his hands wrap around my waist, moving up to my ribs and underneath my chest. My breathing quickens as he grabs both breasts, and his touch is different by the second, the anticipation building. His right hand disappears, and his left squeezes my nipple. I yelp in shock and move my arm closer to my chest by instinct. Cohen pinches harder until my hand is back on the wall, and he chuckles.

  “Bastard,” I mutter under my breath.

  “Your bastard.”

  I turn my head and smile. Cohen’s expression fills with determination, and he spins me to face him. “You only get one breath,” he says against my lips.

  One breath as his voice shivered down my spine. One breath to give him an answer. One breath before his lips slammed into mine. One breath before his hand wrapped around my throat. One breath after he let go. But I knew every answer sooner than that one breath because I trust every move his body takes and every decision his mind makes.

  My lips run down his ear. “One breath is all I need.”

  It’s the moment he enters me when he’s done giving and believes he’s taking, but once Cohen fills me completely, I’m given everything he’s spoken about. With every grind, Cohen takes the bad, the worry, the anxiety, and fear, and replaces it with absolute freedom. Freedom through him. Freedom with him. My reins lower as a familiar fire sets off inside me, building as he pushes me over the edge. My moans only give him ammunition as if he’s feeding off our high before, together, we come undone.

  The steam from the heated shower is swarming around us, but Cohen’s breath is still hot on my neck. He trails kisses along the nape, to my lips, then rests them over my forehead. “Let’s go find that locker.”

  I laugh. “Wow, great post-sex speech. Truly moving.”

  “What? You want rainbows and unicorns? Sorry, babe. The moment is gone.”

  “Very charming. I really don’t know what it is I see in you.”

  We both bite back smiles as we throw on clothes, getting ready.

  Cohen’s phone dings, and he groans when he checks it.

  “What’s up?” I try to say casually, pretending I don’t care, or I’m not curious, even though I kind of do … And I kind of am.

  “You and Evan are going to have to go solo. I have a fire to put out.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  His fingers are speeding across the screen. “They will be,” he says with a forced smile as he kisses my forehead once more and leaves.

  “Okay. That was cool, you surly jackass!” I call out to an empty room, and my phone dings on my bathroom counter.

  Russo: I’m not a surly jackass.

  Me: How the hell did you hear me?!

  Russo: You waited all of two seconds after I left to yell it at the top of your lungs. I think the whole apartment complex heard you.

  Me: Whatever.

  Russo: ;)

  I dial Evan, and he picks up on the second ring.

  “Just you and me, buddy ol’ pal,” I say while finishing my makeup.

  “Cohen just texted me. You ready to go?” Evan asks through a mouthful of food.

  “Yep. You can be the Buzz to my Woody.” And as soon as the words leave my mouth, seconds pass under awkward silence. “Okay, that came out wrong. I meant like partners. I should’ve gone with Bonnie and Clyde.”

  His laughter sings through the phone. “No, no! The Buzz and Woody was so much better.”

  Laughing as well, I say, “Shut up and come pick me up,” then hang up the phone and slap my forehead, my shoulders still shaking with laughter. I make two cups of coffee when there’s a knock at my door, and I holler to come in while grabbing them off the counter.

  Evan enters, and I hold up the mug. “Hey, I made you a coffee, too.”

  He takes it with a smile. “Awe, hell, yes. Thanks.”

  I give him a toothy grin, and he holds out his arm for me in a gentlemanly manner. Rolling my eyes, I walk past him to give him a hard time. We’re in the car, and “Beige” by Yoke Lore plays through his speakers, both of us singing along. We pull up to Lake Meadows Storage and head to a specific locker. It’s much smaller, only about four inches high and 8 inches wide. It looks more like a mailbox, rather than a storage unit like I was expecting.

  Evan immediately clicks in the numbers, which I don’t know how he knows, nor will I ask. “Alright, here we go.” He looks at me and pulls the small metal handle, and it clicks open.

  Both of us stare at each other, fear and anticipation warring within us, wanting to know what’s inside but not wanting to know at the same time. It must be important, and Evan takes a deep breath and opens the door. I can’t see inside since the small door opened towards me, but a puzzled look crosses his face as he pulls out a folder from the small space. How many fucking files and paper trails does this company leave?

  Evan’s eyes stare at the manila folder, head shaking in confusion. “Honestly, this doesn’t make sense.”

  I peek over his shoulder to get a look at the paper. “What do you mean?”

  “Cohen and I were honestly expecting this locker to be empty. Really, I was thinking it would be bigger, like a locker or a storage unit. When Cohen got the codes, we assumed a big room. I was expecting bodies or something sadistic.” He chuckles before thinking out loud again. “But Henry got this infor
mation weeks ago when he asked Cohen to torture a guy to get the code for this. Cohen dropped it off at his office, why wouldn’t Henry have come here to get this by now?” He’s looking at the unopened folder, trying to make the answers appear.

  I scrunch my face in confusion. “Do you think Henry wants someone to find it?”

  His eyes peek up at me. “Let’s find out.” He opens it up, and I come around to his side to look with him.

  My breath hitches at what I’m looking at. “No fucking way.”

  “Is that her?” Evan questions.

  “I don’t know,” I take the worn Kodak photo from the folder, looking at every feature of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl. She can’t be more than ten years old. Maybe twelve. I turn the photo over and see chicken scratch writing. #4276. “Wait a minute.” I grab ahold of the grey metal door to the small locker, looking at the number. “The number on this photo is the same as the locker.”

  “What?” Evan grabs the picture from me and looks for himself. “Huh.” He flips through the papers below. “This is all about Rory. Pictures, news articles when she went missing. Look.” He hands me a small stack, and he’s right—adoption papers, vaccine records, and police reports when she went missing.

  “I’m shocked Sanctum kept this one file in a small locker box in a Storage Unit in Lake Meadows. Why not lock it up with the rest of the intel?” Evan says, trying to make answers come of this.

  “She’s so young.” My finger traces the outline of her smiling face. Happy. Innocent. Free. “God, what have you been through?” I ask the picture, desperate to know and comfort the little girl in the photo.

  “Could the locker be a drop off between Sanctum and someone else?” I question, I still don’t know shit about Sanctum besides the surface we’ve scratched.

  “Maybe. I’m just as lost as you. I’m sure Cohen won’t have much on this either.” Evan scans the folder once more. “Wait, wait, wait.”

  My eyes jump from Rory to the folder. Evan’s finger drags over the words then stops on a signature before he curses. “Fuck. Look who was involved.”

  His eyes watch me as I read the name. Henry Russo.

  “What is this paper?” I ask Evan.

  “I don’t know. It looks like a 1099 tax paper, and I almost passed by it, but I noticed this,” Evan says as he points to Box 7-Nonemployee Compensation, and the amount is $4276.

  “That can’t be a coincidence.” My heart pumps faster, and I feel rage and anxiety. All I want is to find Rory and know she’s safe.

  “It definitely isn’t.” Evan grabs the picture from me, puts the papers back in the file, then hides it in his leather jacket before we lock the box and leave to head back to Cohen’s.

  “You are freakishly calm about life-altering things, Dessa,” Evan says it slightly playfully, but his statement packs a punch.

  “And you put on a great façade about how you feel about yours,” I snap back much harsher than intended.

  “My what?” he asks in disbelief like I haven’t caught onto him in the slightest.

  “Your life. I’m rather inquisitive about people while they judge me for my looks, I’ve picked up a thing or two. You’re the fun, quirky, care-free guy, and all that adds to your charm and your freakishly good looks,” I get close up in his face, “but I see through it, Ev. I feel your anger. Your resentment. I see the mask you wear every day because I put on my own. It’s your way of protection.” I back up. “I see you, bud. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

  Evan stares at me, and his eyebrows draw together in a glare as the light snow falls and catches in his dark hair. The lines on his forehead and the veins in his neck are all evidence I’ve hit a nerve. The sharp line of his jaw moves in anger. “You don’t know the first fucking thing about me, Dessa, and I suggest you stop trying.” He’s in my face, his brown eyes full of anger.

  I pat his chest and give him a sincere smile. “You just proved me right, Evan. It’s okay to be pissed off at the world. And you’re right. I don’t know a lot about you. I just know you’re angry, and you use humor and a nonchalant attitude to cover it up.”

  He grabs me by the collar and slams me against the car. “I like you, Dessa. I really do. I think you’re exactly what Cohen needs because you give him shit and don’t put up with his. But you’re pushing your luck. Stay. Out. Of. My. Life.”

  My hands shoot up in surrender, but I’m not scared. He’s trying to intimidate me with anger because I’m too close to personal feelings he’s never shared with anybody, and it makes him vulnerable. Men don’t like feeling pushed to be vulnerable. It has to happen on their own accord. Thank society for that, for making a man feel less than what he is for having emotions, let alone showing them.

  “Evan, I’m not here to push or prod at you. I just want you to know I see you, and I can be a safe place for you. I’ve grown up with anger coursing through my bones. I raised and resurrected myself from things no child should have to think about, just like you. A worthless mom. Having to take responsibility for things you shouldn’t be burdened with. I see you.” He takes a deep breath, and his eyes soften a little, but his anger is still radiating through his lips. “I won’t press this any further. I just wanted to let you know. That’s all.”

  He backs away, not breaking eye contact. He shakes his head and rubs his neck. “Let’s get out of here.”

  I give him a soft smile. “Deal. Want to get food first though? I’m starving.”

  He does a soft, short chuckle and rubs the back of his neck before getting in the car. “I’m so glad someone around here likes to eat as much as me.”

  And he’s back. I smile at him. “Damn straight. Let’s go.”

  I may have pissed him off, but it was a risk I’m glad I took. Even though he wanted to push me away, he didn’t. I’ve always had a secret soft spot for Evan. A protectiveness like what I feel for Rory. I can’t explain it. We didn’t speak much in school, but I think it’s always been there for both of us. He was the one person I was on neutral ground with. No bad terms, but no good ones, just an understanding neither tried to explain. It was just there.

  What a fucking mess. Luckily, I cleaned this one up just in time before the shit hit the fan. For now, Dessa doesn’t need to know, at least not until after we deal with Sanctum and her sister. I don’t need another log on the proverbial love/hate fire that’s burning between us. She needs the hate, but what she means is, she needs the chase. The push. The pull. The power over it. She’s held control her whole life, and she’s terrified of losing herself in me. So, she wants the game of thinking she’s telling me no, blah blah. And I’ll play along for a little while, but eventually, she’ll realize playing this game is nonsense. She needs to confront these feelings at some point, preferably while I’m around so I can talk her out of leaving me, which she’ll definitely try. I have no doubt about that. I’m walking a fine line, but I need as many ducks in a row as possible, and I’ve already lost a couple today dealing with her.

  “Honey, we’re home!”

  “Weirdly, Evan is more like a girlfriend than my actual girlfriend,” I say, and Evan blows me a kiss in return.

  Dessa follows him in, shoulders shaking in giggles. Her arms wrap around me from behind where I’m sitting at the table. Her lips are at my ear. “I’m your girlfriend now, huh? Not going to lie, it’s strange hearing the word come out of your mouth.”

  “Shut up and come here.” I pull her from behind me and onto my lap, my hands immediately go into her hair, tugging it so I can kiss her naturally swollen, smiling lips. Around her, life comes back to me. Her presence is one thing, but the moment I get my hands on her, it’s as if I can see clearly. My vision is sharper, and my thoughts are crisper, defined even. Always my Achilles and my anchor, simultaneously.

  “Missed me?” Her eyes look happy—light. She’s going to give me shit for saying yes, but I did. I missed her with every ounce of my soul when she left for college, but it was another thing I had to bury until the time was
right. I nod, and her hands come up to push my long hair out of my face.

  Lifting onto her tiptoes, she whispers to me, “Don’t tell anyone, but I missed you too.” She steps back and winks at me.

  I wait to ask them about the Storage Unit today until they sit down by me with an assortment of Mexican food splayed out on the coffee table. “Okay, Storage Unit. What was there?” I ask after sticking a nacho in my mouth.

  Evan wipes his hands off and grabs a folder from his messenger bag. “This.” He hands it to me, and I open it to see a picture of a young girl. My brows furrow, and I peek up at Dessa.

  She nods her head in confirmation. It’s Rory.

  “So, it’s a bit conspicuous. There’s a number on the back of the picture, as you can see. Dessa noticed the locker number and that one,” Evan says, pointing at the picture, “are the same.”

  Hm. That’s either on purpose or a huge coincidence, and I don’t believe in coincidences. Everything has a purpose and a reason. I continue to look through the file, my fingers filtering through papers, adoption papers, and a lot of it’s from when she went missing.

  “Ha! He passed it too!” Evan claps his hands once. My gaze goes to Dessa, and she rolls her eyes. Evan walks around the coffee table and pulls a paper from the stack I already looked at. “See this? I looked over it once, didn’t think anything of it until the second time. Look closely.”

  I look over the 1099 form, starting from box one. Nothing seems strange, until box seven. “4276,” I say, catching on to what Evan discovered.

  “But wait! There’s more.” His fingers wave me along, and my eyes move down the paper until I get to the bottom. And what do you know, it’s Henry’s name.

  “What the hell is this?” I ask out loud to myself.

  “We were wondering the same thing. It’s regarding the sale of Rory into Sanctum, right?” Dessa asks me, worry in her features.

  I grab the back of her head, bring her towards me, and kiss her forehead. “We’re going to figure this out. I promise.” I mean every word. She gives me a half-smile and nods.