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“It’s worth every penny. As long as I have free rein.”
Free rein? Excuse me?
He isn’t actually considering this, is he? But when he looks at me, infuriated I defied him yet again, I know that he is.
“No…” I whisper, eyes wide. “Please, no.” But it’s too late. This is my punishment for once again mistaking him to be anything but a monster.
“Okay, she’s yours.”
“No!” I cry, backing up, but it’s in vain.
Saint lowers his arm, allowing Pipe to prowl toward me, grinning. “Oh, yes, sweetheart.” The two Russians shout at Saint, but he ignores them, his eyes never leaving mine.
Pipe grips my bicep and inhales deeply. I gag, his stench making my stomach turn. “Let’s go.” He drags me to the stairs, but I struggle, digging in my heels.
“Let me go! No!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Saint! No! I’m sorry. I won’t disobey you again.” Saint is impassive to my pleas.
Pipe simply snickers. “Sweet surrender…music to my ears.” I have clearly proven his point that us virtuous ones scream the loudest. But when he presses his blunt erection into my leg, I soon will no longer bear that title. “I’m going to split you into two.”
Tears sting my eyes as I fight him, but he drags me down the stairs and pushes me to the floor. I frantically scramble to get to my feet, but he places his foot at the small of my back and kicks me back down. “Stay down, you bitch.”
I slide on my stomach, desperately trying to stand to fight him off, but he’s on top of me, licking the side of my neck. I buck wildly, flailing and screaming, but the harder I fight, the harder he becomes. “It’s been a long time since I had a girl like you…I’ll try to be gentle.”
When he unzips his fly, sheer terror overcomes me as I’m transported back to being fifteen years old.
Let me fuck that tight virgin pussy. You’re gonna come for Daddy.
Those words a forever manacle smash into me because this time, I won’t surrender. “No!” I shriek. “Get off!” I thrash about, intent on killing him when he gets my shorts down my legs. “You bastard! Don’t touch me! I’ll kill you!”
Adrenaline overtakes me, and just as I’m about to fight with everything I have, there is a hollow gurgle, followed by vibration and a sharp jerking. Time stands still as I have no idea what’s going on when I feel a warmth squirt all over my back and bare ass.
My heart is hammering, and every part of me is telling me to close my eyes and not look. But it’s too late. As I turn over my shoulder slowly, I scream a guttural howl when I witness Pipe clutching his neck, blood gushing from a wound to his throat. Behind him stands Saint, knife in hand, his chest scattered in warpaint from the fatal gash he just delivered. It seems I didn’t have to kill anyone after all.
He kicks Pipe from my body, who plummets with a wheezing thud, and reaches down, dragging him up the stairs by his dreadlocks. Each thud of his wounded body over the steps has me flinching. So does the trail of blood he leaves behind.
I lie sprawled out on the floor, certain I’m about to have a heart attack.
The Russians shout at Saint, and it’s no surprise a fight erupts when I’m assuming Pipe’s crew sees their leader’s body. Breathing in deeply, I pull up my shorts before crawling on hands and knees to the stairs, my body fighting me to turn back around. But I can’t.
In the stairwell, coated in Pipe’s blood, I watch as Saint plows through them, the punches he receives a mere tickle as he shakes them off. Three are down and two to go when a Russian raises a gun in the air and fires. It has the desired effect, and the men, bar Saint, freeze.
“Get off my boat,” Saint warns, spitting out a mouthful of blood. “And take that filth with you.”
His threat is downright frightening, and the men do as he says, quickly pulling the wounded to safety as they walk the plank to their boat. By this point, Pipe has stopped writhing and gasping for air.
Once they’re gone, the Russians’ and Saint’s eyes never waver, and they don’t turn their backs until the pirates are sailing off into the bitter night.
“Why?” screams one of the Russians, shoving Saint’s shoulder. He barely moves an inch. “You know what this means! We have to change route now. They’ll want vengeance. This puts us off by days! Weeks! Boss…”
“You let me handle him,” Saint cautions.
He is lathered in bright red blood, and the sight contrasts with his angelic wings. An angel of death, that’s what he is.
“Why didn’t you let him have his way? Boss wouldn’t know…”
I shrink in on myself, horrified. But Saint slaps the back of his head. Hard. “She is for Boss, and Boss only…don’t you forget that.” It’s evident he’s seen the way they look at me.
My brain can’t keep up, and my teeth chatter at his promise. I have no idea what it means. I should feel grateful he protected me and even killed a man for me, but if he hadn’t offered me up on a silver platter in the first place, none of this would have happened.
