Sanctum (Sacred Series Book 1)

by K. Michelle

  “Pain in my ass,” he mutters under his breath, and I smile as his phone dings. His fingers freeze, as does the rest of his body. He releases a deep sigh as he looks at his phone. With pursed lips, his eyes raise to mine. “Speak of the devil.”

  He quickly taps his screen and raises the phone to his ear. “Did you get the summoning?” He mouths Evan’s name to me. “Yep. Copy,” he tells Evan, sets his phone down, and looks at me. “Seems like we’re about to find out just how much Henry knows. Mandatory gathering, as Henry calls it.”

  “When?” I question.

  “In an hour,” Cohen sets money on the table and stands, “let me take you home.”

  “I think I’m going to the studio again to paint.”

  He nods and rubs his neck. “I don’t know how long I’ll be or what tonight will entail. If I’m done early, come over later, and the three of us can have dinner. Collaborate. Whatever.”

  I laugh. “Deal.”

  Cohen wraps his arms around me, kissing the top of my head. I pull away slightly and look up at him. His lips meet mine, and I could stay right here for the better part of forever.

  “I love you, Dessa. No matter what happens in all of this, hang on to that, and don’t let it go.” This is the first time he’s said those words to me, and without a hesitant beat in my heart, I want to say them back, too.

  “I love you, too.”

  A smile grows on his face, and my belly twists at the sight. One last kiss, and he walks away, no looking back, and he’s gone. I suppose this is the time other girls would call their friends and watch movies and drink wine. I’ve never had girls who wanted to be my friend. Given, I’m not the most inviting person, but for some reason, I was never able to click with someone. I close my eyes, imagining calling my sister to come over the next time this happens. I smile, thankful my mother at least gave me a built-in best friend, even if we haven’t known it our whole lives.

  I head to my studio and change into my overalls, throw my hair up and turn on my music. I start with oranges today, working my way into reds, deepening, and lightening the contrast of each one. My brush follows the strokes, and about thirty minutes in, I see the end goal. I’m engrossed in the music and my canvas as my thoughts and paintbrush war with each other. These last few weeks have been so weird in comparison to how I imagined them being.

  Being with Cohen was the last thing I expected, as I figured he’d either have a trophy wife or a slew of women hanging off his every word. Every jagged edge Cohen has fits mine perfectly. It just took all these years for us to piece them together properly.

  My lips lift as I think of everything that brought us to where we are. Hating each other all through school, just to sneak out most nights and sit next to each other. The side eye glances and direct glares. Every hateful word decorated by every secret sweet one. And ever since that night in the fort when I came back, he’s become a vital organ. Although, I wish it were more like an appendix because I don’t like the idea of needing him. It terrifies me because I’m so used to being my own hero. I don’t like the idea of giving that power to someone just for them to fuck it up in the end.

  I take a deep breath and focus on my brush again. This is one of the fastest pieces I’ve created. I look at it and smile. It seems like a very dark, almost gory piece. One that’s gone through hell and back, and because of that, it’s beautiful. Almost immediately, the name of the painting comes to me.

  I set up my lights, take pictures, and upload it to my site, labeling it, Rory. This one is hers, dark with despair and pain while holding on to the promise of hope. I stand and stretch my arms over my head, leaning side to side. My joints pop, and the relief of finally moving radiates through my limbs. I start to clean when Cohen calls.

  “What’s the damage?” I start jokingly, but all I can hear is him breathing. I don’t get a response. “Cohen?”

  He takes a deep breath and tries to talk, but nothing comes out.

  “What do you need right now, bub?” I flinch at the weird nickname that rolled off my lips. I always make shit weird.

  “I need you, Dessa.” Cohen’s voice is unsure and cracked, and my heart almost takes after it.

  “I’m on my way, okay?”

  It’s almost as if I can hear his nod through the phone, and Cohen says, “Drive safe, please.”

  I hang up, quickly put the rest of my things away, change, and lock up the studio. I’m at Cohen’s in about fifteen minutes, and he opens the door before I’m able to knock, pulling me into his arms and breathing me in. I don’t say anything, letting him workout whatever he needs to.

  “Come on, get inside before you freeze to death.”

  Cohen places his hand on the small of my back as we walk through the foyer and into the big, all-white kitchen, detailed with gold and black finishing. I would be surprised if anyone has cooked in here since he bought it. My gaze follows him as he takes a seat on the barstool, face falling into his hands.

  “Hey.” I wrap my arm around his shoulder, and he turns into me. I push his long dirty-blond hair back. “What’s going on?”

  Cohen shakes his head as if he’s at a loss for words. Evan walks downstairs and into the kitchen, giving us a tight smile and grabbing bottled water out of the fridge.

  “Good news is, they don’t know it’s us …” Cohen stalls his sentence when the front door opens and shuts. I assumed it was Evan leaving, but judging by the look on Cohen’s face, it isn’t. “Could this day get any fucking worse?” He shakes his head, and I turn to see a stranger in Cohen’s house. Fiery red hair, long legs, and a fuck ton of cleavage distracts me from looking at her face. I’m confused, Evan is shocked, and Cohen seems pissed.

  “I’m sorry, who are you?” I ask, confused.

  She smiles with pearly white straight teeth. “I’m Tessa,” she cocks her head and looks at Cohen, “Cohen’s fiancé.”

  I’m in trouble. Big trouble. I knew this was going to be thrown back in my face, but I thought I’d handled it the day Evan and Dessa went to the Storage Unit.

  “Tessa?” Dessa swings her gaze at me. “Are you kidding me right now?”

  I stand. “It’s not what you think.”

  Dessa grabs a wooden spoon out of one of the drawers and whips around to face me, pushing me back against the wall with the spoon pressed across my neck. “Then you better tell me what the hell it is. And you better do it fast, fucker,” she growls in my face. Is it wrong to be turned on right now?

  Words sputter out of my mouth, “She’s not my fiancé.”

  “She seems to think otherwise,” Dessa pauses and turns to my worst walking nightmare in the female form then back to me, “How did she even get in? You locked up after me.”

  Tessa dangles house keys from her bony fingers decorated with blood-red nails.

  Dessa looks like she’s about to commit murder. Then she drops the spoon, allowing me to breathe again, and backs away from me, deciding I’m not worth the hassle.

  “Nice.” Pursing her lips and nodding her head, Dessa grabs her bag and coat, hurt clear across her face.

  “Dess, wait!” I just need to explain this to her.

  “Do. Not. Talk to me right now,” Dessa’s voice is shaky but strong.

  It’s practically a blizzard right now. It was coming down like crazy when Dessa got here. “It’s not safe to drive right now, and I can’t have you driving home angry.”

  Dessa shakes her head, spinning on her foot to leave. “You care enough to tell me that, but not about a fiancé. Cool. So fucking cool,” she halts and turns to me before walking out the door, “I am not a jealous person. I’m not jealous right now. I know my worth. But what I am, is radiating anger. I’m pissed off, and you need to let me cool down. So do not follow me, Cohen.”

  “She’s not my fiancé!” I yell out, trying to get her to listen, to stay—anything. Don’t leave me.

  “She has keys to your fucking house, Cohen! I don’t give a hell what she is or isn’t. The point is, we’ve had p
lenty of conversations for this to come up, and it never did.”

  I attempt to stop her again, but Evan’s hand grabs my shoulder, speaking to Dessa, “I’ll take you home, Dessa.”

  “Thank you, Evan. I’ll be in the car.” She walks out the door, slamming it after her. I look out the window, and Dessa stomps to her car, snow falling over her. Don’t look back, don’t look back. Right before opening the car door, she looks back at me. My heart cracks in my chest as tears well in her eyes. Fuck.

  “I’ll talk to her, brother. But you need to fix this. Sort it out. Now.” His eyes flick to the problem standing in my kitchen.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to alleviate the five-foot eight-inch headache in my house right now. Evan walks out the door, and I head back into my kitchen.

  “Why the fuck are you here?”

  “I wanted one last goodbye. But this was quite an interesting sight. I might stick around for a little while.”

  I grab her neck and slam her against the fridge. “That was not a part of our agreement, Tessa. I gave you money. You were supposed to drop off the face of the Earth a week ago.”

  Her red lips pull up into a smile, and she runs her claws down my chest. I catch her hand before it goes any lower. “I’ve always loved your dominant side, Cohen.”

  I let go of her, shoving her hands away from me. I’m snarling with my fists squeezed tight. “That makes one of us then because we will never happen, no matter what our fathers or you want.”

  “This ring says otherwise.”

  “Then consider yourself engaged to Henry. He’s the one who gave it to you.”

  “Yeah, on your behalf.”

  “Do you know how fucking delusional that sounds?” I take a deep breath. Let’s try doing this the calm way. “Tessa, you aren’t welcome here. That means you aren’t welcome in Lake Meadows, my home, or my life. You’ve just pissed my girlfriend off to the ends of hell. I’d watch your back if I were you.”

  “I’m not scared of her.” She lifts her chin as if that mask of confidence was going to make her personality less ugly.

  “That’s very dumb because you should be. I fear that woman.”

  “Then why are you with her?”

  What an idiot. “Why are you still here? I. Don’t. Want. You,” I enunciate, breaking it down to toddler level.

  “I know I agreed to leave, but I came to tell you I really wanted to give this a shot.” She strides up to me, trying to be sexy. Nothing about her is attractive. Many guys would give their left nut to be with her. Me? I’d give mine only to demolish her existence.

  “Okay, clearly, what I’m saying isn’t getting through to you. Just because our fathers wanted to do this weird 1800’s arranged marriage thing, doesn’t mean I wanted to explore the possibility. So, let me be as transparent as I can.” I throw my hair in a man-bun and look directly in her eyes. Nothing in the way between us, so let’s hope this gets across this time. “I don’t want to be with you. Ever. I never want to be in a relationship with you. I will never change my mind. I’ll never marry you. And I sure as hell will never fuck you. You need to give me the key you took from Henry and never show your face again,” I pause, raising my eyebrows, “Did that make sense? Any questions? Did you understand the words? Because I notice you have a hard time listening lately.”

  “Stop acting like I’m dumb. It’s insulting.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t acting. I truly believe you are.” Her mouth drops open, and her eyes widen. I hold out my hand. “Now, hand me the keys and any other copies you made of it.”

  Tessa’s eyes sharpen, and she purses her mouth. I’m not intimidated in the slightest. She walks towards me, right in my face as she hands the keys to me. “You’re going to regret this.” Then she smiles a conniving smile, and I wish I could snap her twiggy little neck.

  This woman has been a pain in my ass for over four years.

  “Now leave.”

  “Bye, handsome. Till next time.” She drags her hand across my chest as she walks past me and out the door, red hair bouncing as much as her fake tits. I grab the bottle of whiskey on my counter and hurl it across the room, screaming in rage. With anxiety and stress closing in on my chest, I change my clothes and head into my home gym in the basement. My muscles strain as I heave my anger into the boxing bag. Forty minutes later, I’m dripping sweat and nowhere close to being done.

  Evan appears, joining me. “Quite the evening, brother.”

  “I don’t know what to do with the rage. I need to do something, Evan.”

  He nods, and we spar with each other. “You’re going to have to sit down and tell Dessa everything. I tried telling her, but she wasn’t having it.”

  I nod in response. “Thank you for getting her home safe.”

  “No skin off my back. How was your spin around with Lady-Satan?”

  I growl, “I wish I could wipe her nasty existence off the face of this Earth. She’s a selfish little witch and up to no good. She’s going to cause problems; I can feel it.”

  “We’re just going to have to keep an extra close eye on Dessa. Even though that may be a bit harder now since she’s royally pissed, I guess I’ll have to go and save the day. Knight in shining armor and shit.” He winks, and I roll my eyes.

  “I should go see her.” I don’t care if there’s a blizzard or a damn hurricane outside, I’d walk through hell to get to her.

  “No, give her tonight. You can’t smother her. She just needs a little time. But sort it tomorrow, first thing in the morning.”

  I nod, and exhaustion creeps in now that I’ve spent so much of my energy. My anger has gone from boiling down to a simmer. “I’m going to wash up and try to come up with a plan with the shit storm we’re about to enter.”

  Evan slaps my shoulder. “We’ll figure it out, brother.”

  We don’t have a choice at this point because either I figure it out or I lose Dessa to Sanctum.

  Evan and I are in the car, driving to the church Henry holds Sanctum meetings. It’s not a running church in the sense of the gospel, but rather drugs, kidnapping, and weapons. The tall concrete pillars with intricate braided designs climbing up them decorate the sides of the building. The two of us walk in, and rows of pews with a dark, crimson aisle runner lays out over the hardwood floors, and colorful stained glass shines various colors from the sun inside.

  Rather than a pulpit in the middle of the stage, Henry sits in a chair built for a king. His dark hair is gelled to the side, not one wrinkle in his Givenchy suit. With one leg thrown over the other, his hands rub his jaw as his glare sets on Evan and me.

  “Glad you decided to join us,” Henry uses the deep timbre of his voice to intimidate, but I roll my eyes.

  “What did you expect? It took forty-five minutes to get here, and we were in the middle of something when you called this last-minute meeting,” I say as Evan and I take a seat behind the crew of Sanctum members. Old and young, all eyes are on us.

  Henry removes his eyes from us and addresses the group. “As most of you may know, Harvey was killed. We found him in his home, murdered.” The group doesn’t gasp, but everyone’s shocked. Evan kicks my leg, and I side-eye him. Henry continues, “I need every single one of you on high alert. Keep your eyes peeled. If someone knew who Harvey was and managed to kill him, I have no doubt they know who we are. I’ve met with several of the gangs downtown to discuss protection, to make sure we aren’t being made fools of.”

  I look at Evan in confusion and whisper, “Why the fuck would he do that? Protection is the whole point of Sanctum.”

  Evan shrugs. He’s just as baffled as I am. Henry rambles on for twenty more minutes about specific deals and what needs to happen and assigns Evan and me a task.

  After Henry finishes, we approach him for our orders we don’t plan on fulfilling—because fuck him—then follow him into the back office.

  “Boys, this is Dessa Collins.” He slides more pictures of Dessa to us. Some of her at the store, outside her studio
, her apartment, and in her car. “I need you to find her and bring her to me by weeks’ end.”

  Neither Evan nor I give away any shock at the request, or any indication we know her. I question him, “Now we’re babysitters? Fuck this. That’s not what I’m here for.”

  Henry’s brow lifts. “When I give you an order, I expect submission. You will do this, and you will be successful,” he slides a sheet of paper to Evan and me, “This is her information. Everything you need to know.”

  “No problem, Sir. We’ll do it,” Evan says as if he’s the star child. I look at him in disgust, and he stares blankly back at me.

  Henry points to Evan, but speaks to me, “See, now that’s the answer I want and expect. Do me a favor and learn a thing or two from Evan.”

  I abruptly stand from the chair to leave. I’m already through the auditorium of the church and outside when Evan yells out to me, “Fuck, Cohen, Stop!”

  “What the hell was that?” I growl in his face.

  “You’re being blinded by your relationship with her to see this is a fucking blessing. Do you want Henry taking these orders and giving them to Vex? Do you?!” My breathing is rapid, but I understand. Evan’s hand grabs my shoulder. “This is good, Cohen. Now get your thong out of your ass, and let’s get back to Dessa.”

  He’s right. Not about the thong, but this is the best job he could’ve given us.

  It’s five a.m. I slept for maybe two hours. My brain hasn’t shut off, constantly thinking of ways to finish our mission of taking down Sanctum, finding Rory, and now, keeping Dessa closer and safe. I get out of bed and jump in the shower, brush my teeth, and get dressed before leaving to pick up breakfast and flowers. She’ll see right through them, but I didn’t want to show up empty-handed. Besides, I don’t fuck with flowers, so this hopefully says a lot. It’s seven a.m. when I get to her apartment, and I knock on the door. She doesn’t answer, so I knock harder. I wait a few more minutes before delivering a fireman knock, which sounds like I’m going to bring the whole place down. She swings the door open, and I’m beginning to think coming was a mistake.