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“Look me in the fucking eye and tell me she didn’t tell you more than what she’s told us all.” Saint looks toward Dante, his fists clenched at his sides, the sleeves of his button-up shirt rolled up, as the cords of his forearms tie together.
Dante doesn’t speak, he only stares back at Saint. I don’t blame him. They have a bond, a bond that’s helped Dante through most of his life. Not only that, but if I’m being honest with myself, I know Saint’s dangerous. I know he’d have no qualms about shooting anyone in this room and walking away like nothing happened.
When the silence has gone on too long, Saint growls and turns back toward me, his stare so focused on me that I can’t tell if I’m horny or scared to death. Either way, my vision begins to blur.
“Your powers are working, Wolfie. I’m blacking out. Let’s call it for the questioning today. I think I need to sleep and eat something.”
He groans and leans in closer, his teeth bared, the heat from his body so hot that my blood begins to boil. “You haven’t seen my powers yet, Cinderella… but it’s close to midnight and I can feel them coming.”
I try to focus on his face, but the blurring just gets worse. “And what happens at midnight, Wolfie? Do you turn me into a pumpkin and toss me into the ocean? I’m betting you don’t. I’m betting you run away to your room pouting, and I snuggle into a guest room somewhere waiting for the dinnerware to sing and dance.”
“Wrong again. You have thirty seconds to tell me what you told Dante, or I turn into the big, bad wolf. And I have no mercy for little girls in pink dresses.”
I can’t tell what story I’m on with all his innuendos, but that doesn’t matter. The way his voice is changed, my stomach hurts.
“She didn’t tell me anything,” Dante interrupts, his voice shaky. “She was going to, but she didn’t. She doesn’t feel good. I told you, she needs to eat. Let’s lay off and ask her again in the morning.”
Saint looks back toward me, his teeth bared, his eyes narrowed, the wolf moniker never more evident than right now.
“And I’m not a little girl.” I stare back at him as though I’m not afraid, but in reality, most of his face is a haze so I don’t need much courage at all. Maybe he drugged me again.
Saint growls louder and stands me from the chair like a rag doll, then presses me up against the back wall, shaking a candlestick off a buffet table. “You want to play games, let’s play.” His hand moves up my thigh slowly, over my hip, my hand, and then my shoulder until he’s gripped the back of my neck and his gaze is heavy on mine. The move is both violent and sexual, and despite the dizziness, my clit won’t stop throbbing.
I open my mouth to speak, but my brain won’t compute what I’m thinking. My heart races, the room goes black, and my limbs go numb as I collapse in Saint’s arms. The last words I hear are him screaming for help.
Chapter Six
Saint
If it were anyone else, I’d have deemed them unworthy by now. She’s a demon. I’ve done enough shit things to deserve one on my shoulder, but the irony in which she was sent makes me laugh. The body of a sweet, innocent angel, the mouth of a devil spawn.
“Why do I keep waking up to your face?” Her voice is groggy, but I’m happy to hear it, even if there is a trail of evil about to consume me.
“You’re lucky you woke up at all. The doctor said you have swelling on your brain.”
She blinks up at me sleepily with heavy lids. Her cheeks are pink and her long hair lays splayed over the pillow. I imagine running my fingers through it, lying beside her, holding her close.No, God no.What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Well, you hired a real genius then,” she says. “Did he also tell you I’m a girl? Actually, if he did, I have a lawsuit ready. Passing out does not require a crotch check.”
I roll my eyes. “That mouth of yours is always running. So, you know your brain is swollen? Why didn’t you say anything?”
She rolls over onto her side and closes her eyes, as though she’s going to pretend I don’t exist.
I stand at the side of the bed admiring her for a long moment. She didn’t ask if I’d taken her to a hospital, she just assumed I’d hired someone to check her over, and she obviously knows what’s wrong with her, but why hasn’t she talked about it?
“Is this what Dante knows?”
She sighs. “I didn’t get a chance to tell him. You interrupted us, barking something about time and moving.” Pulling up on the quilt, she snuggles her round ass backward and sighs into the pillowcase, as though she’s about to sleep, but we both know she’s full of shit.
“Stop messing around and look at me,” I say, sitting on the edge of the bed, my hand on her lower back. Fuck. Even the slight touch has me distracted as hell.
She doesn’t answer.
“I didn’t want this, you know? This life, but I’m good at it.”
“And what does this have to do with me?”
“You’re scared of me.”
