The Virgin

“The door locks from the inside,” Kyrie said. “Nobody from out there can come in unless someone in here unlocks the door for them. But maybe that’s happened. Maybe someone from inside the abbey had someone outside the abbey they wanted to see.”

“Why do they have a door back here? We’re not allowed to leave the abbey without permission.”

“It was for the workers who built the oratory. They cordoned off this area while they built it. They didn’t want big burly construction workers tromping through the abbey so they had them come in through the back door of the chapel. They never sealed off the door, though.”

“Lock it,” Elle said.

“But—”

“Do it.”

Kyrie shut the door immediately and locked it up.

“What’s wrong?” She looked at Elle in confusion.

“I don’t want anyone coming in here,” Elle said, her heart racing for no reason she could or would name.

“Who would come in?”

“Nobody.”

“Then why—”

“We should get back to the abbey,” Elle said, taking a step away from the door.

“Elle, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re a bad liar,” Kyrie said, taking Elle’s hand. “You don’t really think he’d break in here, do you?”

“No,” Elle said. “But I might break out.”

Kyrie looked up at her sharply, hurt in her eyes.

“You want to leave?” Kyrie asked.

“No. Yes.”

“Which is it?”

Elle shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

When Elle looked Kyrie in the eyes, she saw fear there. Her gut instinct was to take it away. This girl was hers to protect and to cherish. Dominants were supposed to take care of their submissives. Being a Dominant was harder than she’d anticipated.

“Elle, please. You’re kind of freaking me out.”

“I want to leave,” Elle said, choosing honesty. “But I don’t want to leave you.”

“I see.” Kyrie let go of Elle’s hand and returned to the blanket on the floor. She pulled her legs in tight to her chest.

It wasn’t until she’d seen the open door that she’d realized how much she wanted to walk through it. Not walk—run. She wanted to run through and keep running until she’d put a thousand miles between her and this convent.

“Are you leaving?” Kyrie asked, looking up at Elle.

“No. I can’t leave. I don’t know where I’d go, what I’d do.”

“I do,” Kyrie said.

“What?”

“I said I know what you can do. I told you I’d figure out what you could do with your life. So I figured it out.”

Elle laughed coldly. “You figured out what I can do with my life?”

Kyrie stood up and walked to the back room where she’d hidden blankets.

“I told you I had a present for you.” Kyrie came back out holding an envelope. She gave it to Elle. “So here.”

The envelope had already been opened. It was addressed to Kyrie, not her. One single sheet of paper was inside. Elle unfolded it and held it near the candle.

Dear Kyrie, the letter began.

It was wonderful to hear from you. I think of Bethany every single day. Her books are on my shelves and her memory lives in my heart.

“Who is this?” Elle asked, looking up from the letter.

“My sister’s literary agent,” Kyrie said. “Keep reading.”

I’ll admit I was surprised to receive fifty handwritten pages of an erotic novel from a convent in New York, but Bethany did tell me her baby sister was the odd duck in the family. We have submission guidelines here, but I certainly couldn’t tell any sister of Bethany’s no. I’m glad I didn’t say no. Your friend Elle is an extremely talented writer. I couldn’t put the pages you sent me down and was most unhappy when I reached the end and found there was no more to read.

“You sent my book to your sister’s agent?”

Kyrie grinned in the dark. “I made photocopies of the first fifty pages and sent it to her. But keep reading.”

The letter now shook in her hands.

Please tell me when your friend has finished her novel. And ask her to send it to me as soon as she can. If the rest of the book is as strong as the pages you sent, we can absolutely sell this. I have a list of editors already who would be interested. My contact information is below. When your friend is finished with the book, tell her to email me the completed manuscript and call me as soon as she can.

Elle read the letter again. Then again. She had trouble believing it was real.

“You’re shitting me,” Elle said. “When did you do this?”

“You gave me the book to read so I read it all,” Kyrie said. “I snuck into the offices and used the copy machine to copy the pages. I sent them to my sister’s agent. She and Bethany were close. I knew she’d do me a favor and read it for Bethany’s sake. But she’s tough and honest. If she says she can sell it, she means it.”

“Oh fuck. I have to finish the book.”

“How long will that take you?”

“I don’t know. A month. Six weeks. It takes a long time to write it out by hand.”

“You can do it. I know you can finish it.”

“I can.”