AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I gasp, spinning and finding Saint directly behind me, looming over me with a wicked grin.
Before I can scream or make a run for it, he grabs my face with both hands and yanks my mouth to his.
I’m on my toes, breath in my throat, excitement and arousal zipping down my spine as his lips roam masterfully over mine.
Claiming me. Branding me. Taking what’s his.
I leap back out of his grasp, slamming my ass into his desk and hissing at the pain. He blocks me in, hands on his desk behind me, but he doesn’t try to kiss me again.
“What are you doing in my house, muse?” he purrs. “Have you finally come to play?”
“You’re S.T. Nicholson,” I accuse, lips still tingling. “Aren’t you?”
“You found my mask.” He reaches around me to grab it. “I suspect you have a mask kink. Shall I put it on?”
“Your new manuscript,” I start, heart pounding hard enough to bruise against my ribcage. “It’s obviously about me.”
He leans down, cheek brushing my ear. “Yes, and I can’t wait to watch you come to my fantasies of you.”
I push him back, failing to swallow down the lump in my throat. “So you offered Mack a job just to get to me?”
He did to Mack exactly what he did to my mom—followed her around with one objective. To manipulate them into liking him so he could get closer to me.
“I wanted to make a good impression on those who matter most to you. It worked out for all of us, didn’t it?”
Mack may have gotten a job that pays her bills and funds her book-buying habit, but now her boss is a psychopath. “If you’re S.T. Nicholson, why are you in an MFA program?”
The devilish smile slips from his face, lips thinning. “A negative review desecrated both my work and my character. I’m accustomed to plenty of criticism about my work, and believe me when I say it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. My work isn’t for everyone, I’m well aware of that. But for someone to attack my character, to accuse me of such vile things, to accuse me of forcing myself on women...” He swallows down the rage. “It left me spiraling. Left me unable to write, for fear of what else I would be accused of for writing stories that show some teeth. I needed inspiration. I needed to find my muse.” He runs a hand through my hair. “And then I did. I found you.”
That review he had me read ofThis Book Will Haunt You. He’s been giving me hints about his secret identity all along.
“If you kill me, Mom and Mack will hunt you down and string you up by your testicles.”
Impatience trickles into his features now, drawing his dark brows together. “I’ve told you, Briar. I don’t want to hurt you. I want to be with you. To keep you safe.”
He’s followed me home, watched me from outside my window, and broken into my house, but he’s right. He’s never done anything to physically harm me. Maybe he’s not lying about this.
“If you want me to feel safe, why are youstalkingme?”
“So that I’m always around to protect you.” He swallows, throat bobbing. “I wasn’t there when my mother needed me. I failed to protect her. I won’t allow the same to happen to you.”
Even though I know I shouldn’t fall for his hero complex, I can’t help but understand his drive to protect those he loves at all costs. If I’d lost my mother the way he lost his, I’d burn the world down. When I discovered my father was cheating on her, I wanted to rip his face off. Yet I almost kept the discovery to myself so I wouldn’t have to watch the hurt bury itself in my mother’s heart.
I’d do anything to protect those I love. In Saint’s mind, he’s convinced he loves me, and he wants to do the same.
“You and I have more in common than you realize.” He wraps a strand of my hair around his finger. “Before you, I kept myself closed off. I never brought any woman to my bed more than once, never let them linger, never let them in. You know how that is—it’s easier to keep everyone at bay, so there’s no one to lose. No one that someone can use against you. But my heart is yours, Briar. No matter how much you push me away, you won’t get rid of me. Because I can’t lose you too.”
He’s psychotic if he thinks he’s already in love with me. He just met me—he hardly knows me. I can’t trust a murderer.
“If you don’t stay away from me, I’ll out S.T. Nicholson. Everyone will know your true identity.”
A muscle in his jaw feathers. “If that’s truly what you want, you’re welcome to do so.”
Except some crazy part of me doesn’t want to ruin my favorite author’s anonymity. Despite everything Saint de Haas has done to me, S.T. Nicholson has been my constant source of comfort since I discovered his debut. His words speak to me in a way that no other author’s ever have. S.T. Nicholson’s books are the reason I pursued an MFA, the reason I started writing the dark, gritty books that I thought no one would ever want to read. The reason I finally started to believe that someone out there might understand me, might love me, just as I am. Sharp teeth and all.
As much as I hate to admit it, the man standing before me is both the worst and the best thing that has ever happened to me.
“Really?” I ask. “You don’t care if I blow the secret you’ve been concealing for years?”
