Housewife

After I took a shower today I had bruises all over me. My inner thighs, breasts, stomach, ass and legs. Saint was not playing when he said that he would mark me because my body was branded by him.

Bite marks everywhere. As if I am his own personal canvas. I didn’t mind but what bothered me is that it will take a while for them to fade and a job to cover them.

“When did you learn to play the piano?” I question as I twirled on my feet to Saint’s soft tunes whistle as he plays with the piano. The soreness was still there but I could somehow manage it since Saint normally carried me around the house.

I might complain about it but I secretly loved it and the attention.

“I took lessons when I was 10. Not sure what gave me the interest to learn how to play but I just did, it weirdly comforted me.” He explains.

My aches when I start to remember all the horrible things he has gone through as a little boy.

I may not say this about many people but Saint deserves the world.

He is not evil, cold-hearted, ruthless, or scary for the fun of it. Saint is just a broken soul who also found comfort in his own darkness. Made the hell he is living in into his own home.

“So you have a passion for playing the piano.” I pointed out the obvious.

“Yes, as well as slow dancing and sports cars. Those are the three things that I personally love.” he proclaims as he continues to play the piano.

It’s snowing outside so Saint decided to stay in for the weekend.

I looked at him.

His hair is fluffy and messy and his back is facing toward me. He is wearing a white t-shirt and grey joggers as he calmly loses himself in the classical instrument.

If someone would have told me three months ago that I somewhat found my peace through Saint I would have laughed in their face but here I am grinning like a fool as I watch my husband play my favourite instrument.

Now that I’m thinking about it. I haven’t gotten drunk in a whole month. I have been at my happiest because of him.

“Saint.” I gently call out and he stops playing the piano then turns to face me. “Thank you.”

He tilts his head and searches my eyes and smiles. “Come here.”

I walk toward him and he pulls me onto his lap. Placing a kiss on my forehead he says. “Your welcome Irena.”

“I genuinely mean it. I’ve been at my happiest and I haven’t been drinking for a whole month.” I squeal excitedly. Saint’s eyes brightened. “I’m proud of you,” he mumbles. His hand runs through my hair as he kisses me all over my face and I giggle like a child.

He pulls away and frowns. “There’s still blood in your hair.” He points out my eyebrows narrowed when he showed me a strand of my hair that’s stained with blood. I sigh. “I thought I washed it all out this morning.”

Saint analyses my hair for a moment. “I could wash it for you and maybe braid it.” He suggested my eyes growing wide in shock. My jaw dropped to the floor. “You’re shitting me, Saint.” I laugh and he shakes his head. “What do you think I can’t do?” He challenged me. “No, no it’s not that it’s just. You Saint Dé Leon, the man known for killing people cold-blooded, want to wash and braid my hair?” I shockingly state. He shrugs. “I see no problem with that.”

In a swift move Saint picks me up and carries me to our bedroom. Giggling my way there, Saint slaps my ass then squeezes it and I squeal.

Once we reached the bathroom he ran the water and shifted it to the shower head. He quickly grabs a chair for me and the products he will need to wash my hair. Saint makes me sit on the chair and I smile watching him with amusement. He helps me to tilt my head back and then rinses it out. The warm water flowed through my hair. He then squeezed some condition that smelled like coconut and began to wash my hair starting off by massaging my scalp. My eyes automatically closed at how good it felt when he massaged my scalp.

“Feels good?”

“Mhm,” I answer and he chuckles, the low rumbles of his voice send shivers down my spine. Butterflies burst in my stomach as their little wings flap all over causing me to blush.

It’s the simplest moments that make me go feral.

This man would burn the whole world for me but what I would cherish till my grave is playing the piano with him and him washing my hair.

I always wanted to disappear not realising that this whole time I just wanted to be found.

Saint found me.

He looks down at me then kisses me and proceeds to wash my hair. After a while, Saint wraps a towel around my hair and guides me back into the room.

I changed into a green jumper because the Saints shirt got wet and felt uncomfortable on my skin.

After a while, my hair is completely dry and Saint sits me down.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” I question, I’m not doubting him, it’s just—okay I’m doubting him.

“Yes,” he simply states. “Now let me fancy my wife up.” he urges and I surrender by keeping quiet allowing him to do his magic.

I felt silly allowing Saint to braid my hair. It felt as if we were best friends having a sleepover and decided to do each other’s hair. Although I did love the moment we were sharing.

“You make me feel like I’m at a salon.” I declare, laughter slipping out my lips. I could feel him grinning at me although I couldn’t see him. “I love that little laugh of yours. It’s really cute and will probably get you fucked at some point.” he casually states.

Clearing my throat, I felt the ache between my legs as I pictured Saint taking me right here.

After a while of throwing jokes and flirting with each other Saint is finally done with my hair. Excitement rushed through my veins when I rose to my feet and rushed to the bathroom, my eyes widened at the sight.

I am beyond shaken.

Where the hell did Saint learn to braid like this? My hair looked beautiful.

When I saw him in the mirror I turned to him and jumped onto him, crashing my lips onto his. “You did a great job.” I praised. “Where did you learn how to braid?” I question. “I always wanted a daughter so I would watch videos when I was a boy,” he simply answers and I smile.

Saint might be known as a monster but I’m starting to think otherwise.

He’s a fallen angel.

The guards open the double oak doors that lead into the interior of Abel’s and Nirali’s stone mansion.

As we both proceed our way down the open foyer we turn left which leads to the glass room library. Saint and I stopped in our tracks and blood instantly rushed to my cheeks. I turned to Saint and he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose then cleared his throat. Nirali was sitting on top of a desk whilst Abel is standing between her legs as they both suck each other’s faces off.

“Abel.” Saint scolded.

A light chuckle escaped my lips when Abel lifted his finger indicating Saint to give him a second.

He sighs and folds his arms impatiently waiting for his brother to stop making out with his wife as if it’s the last time he will see her.

After a while of awkwardly watching Nirali and Abel, they finally pull away.

Abel whispers something in Nirali’s ear and she giggles, lightly slapping him on the chest before they both turn their heads to face us.

“Would you want to get a taste too?” Abel mockingly questions Saint, a smug grin stretched across his face. Saint rolls his eyes. “Each time you open your mouth shit after shit comes out.” He states and I fight back a smile.

“Enough with you two acting like kids. Come on Irena. Let’s leave before more of them come.” Nirali declares as she approaches me. I turned to Saint to find him already looking at me. “If you need anything you’ll find me in the office.” He states and I nod before following behind Nirali.

Just as she predicted, Zoltan and Prince appear from the other room and walk past us entering the library that we were just in.

Nirali turns to me and analyses my hair. “I love the new look with your hair.” she complimented me and I blushed as I immediately thought about Saint braiding my hair. “Thank you.” I wanted to tell her that Saint did it but something held me back.

As we both proceeded our way to the bar Nirali paused in her tracks and suspiciously looked at me. My gaze narrowed as I caught her gaze.

“What?” I inquired. She tilts her head to the side, “Why the hell are you walking like that?”

My heart jumped and I lightly chuckled. “Like what?” I ask stupidly. Nirali arches a fine brow and stares at me. I swallow hard. My lips pursed into a thin line.

A few seconds later Nirali gasped. “Holy shit did you. Ah! You had sex with Saint!” she squeals excitement gleaming in her eyes. My eyebrows shot up and I immediately shushed her as if it was some sort of big secret.

I grabbed Nirali by the wrist and dragged her to the bar. A huge smile danced on her lips as we both took a seat on the stools. She wiggles her eyebrows.

“Okay, firstly that was extremely loud and secondly I did not have sex with Saint.” I lied, hoping she would believe it. Nirali scoffs. “Irena, your legs wobble when you walk and you have that after-sex glow.” she points out,  shaking her shoulders. I lightly laughed, shaking my head as I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Also. I’ve picked up the sudden shift with you guys. You two are more comfortable with each other. The way he looks at you. The way you look at him.” She sighs, battering her long eyelashes as she looks up with her hands locked together like those princesses you see in the movies when they picture fake scenarios about their significant other.

“Okay. We did but-”

“That explains the coat and turtleneck you’re wearing.”

“How was it-no scratch that I bet it was amazing. How big is he!” she exclaims, squeezing my hands. I instantly flush. “AHH, It’s that big.”

My body was on fire and I bet a million dollars that my face was red. “Too many inappropriate questions, Nirali.” I giggled and she brushed me off with a wave. “We’re both adults here.”

I sigh, playfully rolling my eyes. “Okay. Well, Saint really is good and yes, he’s big but I won’t tell you how big he is. You are a married woman and I’m not comfortable talking about Saint’s penis size.” I point out and it’s her turn to blush.

“On a serious note Irena. He’s not forcing you to do anything right?” her tone becomes blunt so is her serious expression. I frown. “Why would you say that?”

“He is nothing but trouble.” she proclaims. “Trouble, yes.” I nod in agreement. “But not nothing.”

She sighs. “It’s Saint we are talking about. I know it’s early to say but you’re like a best friend and I’m making sure that you’re safe,” she alleges.

I nod in understanding. Locking my gaze with hers I smile. “I know that it will be hard to believe but Saint is different around me. We somehow click in a strange way that makes sense together. I still can’t process that fact because in the beginning all I wanted to do was either run away or do something cruel because he reminded me of something but as time passed he showed me that there’s no need to run. That I should stand my ground and battle my demons. Saint and I fit together in ways others cannot see.” I pause nibbling on my bottom lip.

“I appreciate you looking out for me Nirali. I really do but I’m with him.

For better or for worse.” I state. “It’ll probably be worse,” she whispers. I smile weakly.

“I knew that the day I said the oath on the altar.”

SAINT

“Holy shit did you. Ah! You had sex with Saint!” I hear Nirali’s voice squeal with excitement outside of the library.

Prince stares at me as he fixes himself a glass of whiskey. ‘Not a single word,’ I demand and he cocks a brow. ‘I didn’t say shit.’ He spat. ‘You didn’t have to. I could smell your comment from a mile away.’ I declare and he smirks, ignoring me then continues to pour the whiskey into the glass.

Zoltan plops himself on the couch running his hand hair through then asserts. ‘Explains the way she’s walking.’

I glare at him and he chuckles. Abel plops himself beside Zoltan and slaps him on the back of his head. ‘Joke all you want about it, we all know that you can’t please your girl to that extent,’ Abel comments, and I almost smile as Prince lets out a light chuckle as leans against the wall and sips on his drink.

‘Please I can take one good look at any woman and they’d be creaming their pants.’ Zoltan grins proudly.

We all remained quiet and stared at Zoltan blankly. I swear the shit that comes out of his mouth is twice the bullshit that comes out of Abel’s mouth.

Although I suspect them and would gladly confront them now with a gun pressed against their temple. I had to pretend as if everything was alright.

Prince clears his throat. ‘Anyway back to Saint. I never thought you would have a woman wrapped around your finger.’ He states. I fold my arms and shake my head. ‘She’s got me wrapped around her finger.’ I corrected him and Zoltan chokes on his drink. ‘The day has come when Saint has finally fallen in love.’ He states sarcastically. I stare at him seriously. ‘I am in love with her.’

The room silenced. All eyes are on me.

‘Shit, Saint.’ Abel blurts out. “I fucking knew it.” he brags and I roll my eyes. He takes pride whenever he is right which is fucking irritating.

I take a seat across from him and run my hand through my hair. ‘Funny how dangerous it is to finally have something worth losing,’ I utter.

‘When did you realize that you’re in love with her?’ Prince questions, popping out a cigarette and lighting it then takes a puff. I lean back, my arms spread on the head of the couch.

‘When I took her to kill those three shitheads,’ I told him. Prince chuckles appearing beside me. ‘It hasn’t even been 6 months. Do you know any shit about her?’

I turn to look at him, irritation boiling in my veins. ‘I know enough. She’s fucking impetuous. Glowing with madness, she’s chaos and honey all things messy, sweet, and fucking lovely. I love her Prince, all of her but the dark side of her Jesus Christ. Any girl can play innocent but her demons are what drove me wild, her secrets, her pain, her darkness that’s what made me fall madly in love with my wife.’

She tastes like every dark thought I’ve had.

Like the moon, Irena had a side of her so dark that even the stars couldn’t shine on it but a light brighter than the sun that I’d be happy to burn an eternity under her blinding beauty.

And if her poison apples don’t kill me, her beauteous soul and insanity will.