“Do you want them?” he asks mildly.
Part of me wants to hit him, just to get a reaction. Something intense. Something meaningful. It’s the same reason I smoked and drank and danced up against guys at dark underground parties. I lashed out at him, and God, he lashed back. “No.”
“What do you want then?”
My gaze finds the black rectangle on the table again. It’s been so long since I saw a Bible. Since I touched one. It leaves me shaken, and I want something other than a spanking. “Something to call mine.”
I place one hand on his shoulder. He’s tense underneath his suit jacket.
Slowly, carefully I climb into his lap. I half expect him to mock me. Or maybe just push me to the ground. He doesn’t do either of those things. He just lets me climb onto him, into him, cradling myself with his strong body, self-soothing with the erection I feel growing beneath his slacks.
One minute passes. Then another.
I’ve resigned myself to this, to holding him while he doesn’t hold me back. Then his arm moves. He slides a hand around my shoulders and drapes his other arm over my legs. I’m curled up in his arms—like a child. That’s how I feel, helpless and small.
Only now can I tell him what I’ve been thinking, ever since I saw the blood on the wall. Before that. When I saw the bubblegum-pink message on my vanity mirror. “It might be…” My voice breaks, and I have to start over again. “It might be someone from my past.”
He’s silent. I haven’t talked much about my past. He saw me at the beginning, so he knows how sheltered I was, how warped. But he doesn’t know the details. “Because of the Bible verses.”
“Yes, and I need to go. I already planned on leaving, but it’s even more important that I go now. Before he… before he hurts anyone.”
Ivan’s hands tighten on me. “Let’s get one thing straight. You’re not going anywhere. Not out of Tanglewood. And I might not even let you out of this house.”
“You don’t know what he’s capable of,” I whisper.
r /> Ivan makes a low sound of disbelief—disbelief that I’d think he could be scared. “Whatever he’s done, I’ve done worse. And I’ll do worse if he’s the one behind this. But you know, the Bible’s kind of a popular book. Just because you knew some religious fuckhead before, doesn’t mean he’s here now.”
That makes me laugh, despite myself. Ivan is always like this, irreverent. He doesn’t give a shit about politeness. I wanted to be like him from the beginning. I never quite succeeded, could never quite lose the sense of wonder and fear that marks me as a sheep.
“They’re both about the flock,” I say. “And the shepherd.”
Ivan tucks me against his chest, his chin on top of my head. “More than one man has delusions of grandeur. In fact, pretty much all of them do.”
The thump of his heart in his chest is making me sleepy. “Even you?”
A huff of laughter. “Especially me. Why do you think I haven’t touched you?”
I’m too tired, too broken to be anything but honest. “Because I’m dirty,” I whisper.
It’s what Leader Allen always said about my mother. She has demons inside her. They drive men to sin. You won’t let them in, will you, Candace? You’ll be a good girl.
Tension runs through Ivan’s body in waves. His voice is even when he speaks. “I don’t know who made you believe that. But I’d love five minutes in a room with him.”
“Then why?” I ask, my voice sluggish in sleep. Why haven’t you touched me?
“I’m not sure it matters anymore.”
Chapter Eleven
He carries me upstairs. I’m drifting on the shore between sleep and waking, content to remain here as long as I feel his arms around me. As long as I can smell his musk. As long as I’m safe.
The sheets are cold against my heated skin, and I make a negative sound.
He starts to pull away, and I grab on to him. It’s so cold in this room. So colorless. “Please,” I beg.
He stares down at me in the dark, more shadow than man. “Go to sleep.”
“I won’t,” I say, but that’s a lie. I’m already half-asleep even while we talk, pulled further out on every wave—and he’s sand between my fingers. Even knowing that, I hold him tighter. “I’ll have nightmares.”