Page 13 of Lethal Saint

“Why did you kill them?”

I saw him smile even if I wasn’t looking directly at him. He kept smiling as he ducked behind the island and grabbed a pan from where they hung from a rack overhead. “I’ll tell you if you eat.”

I shrugged. It seemed like he was getting the raw end of the deal. Unless he was going to drug me. Maybe he was one of those men who wanted their partners completely helpless.

“Is that a yes, little queen?”

That name again. I flexed my fingers on the gun and said, “Yes.”

“Good girl. Thank you for talking to me.”

I was only speaking because I wanted answers, but I didn’t tell him that.

“Come, sit here,” he said, gesturing to three stools on the other side of the island, before rolling up the sleeves of his wet shirt. Didn’t he want to change? Did this terrifying killer really want to make me food in a wet shirt? Odd indeed. “Now, what’s your favourite food?”

“Anything you make is okay,” I replied, my voice scratchy like I’d been screaming. But that had only been inside my head.

“Not what I asked, Vasilisa. Honest answer—what’s your favourite food.”

I traced one of the whorls in the counter top as I sat. “I’m not allowed it.”

“You’re allowed anything you want.”

I laughed. He didn’t.

“McDonald’s,” I blurted, not looking at him. “That’s my favourite food. Anything,everything,from McDonald’s. Or cake, doughnuts, ice cream, milkshakes, muffins—”

My ears burned. I swallowed the rest of my words, mortified at my outburst.

“Why aren’t you allowed them?” the Saint asked, and warning rippled through me, stealing my breath at the intensity in his voice and tightening his body language. I knew that tone, had heard that anger in Dad’s voice most days for the past ten years.

“Sorry,” I blurted, freezing where I sat on the stool. “I’m sorry—”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” the Saint replied with that same intensity.

“But they’re bad for me, for my health, and—”

“Fuck that,” he barked, making me jump. His voice was softer when he went on, “You’re allowed whatever the hell you want, and no one’s going to tell you what you can and can’t eat ever again.”

I glanced up at him through my lashes and debated telling him he was insane, but I didn’t want to risk his wrath when I’d avoided it for now. He was still on the other side of the island; if he was going to punish me, he’d be around this side by now. I exhaled a slow breath but didn’t relax by guard.

“And sugar’s probably good for you after the shock you’ve had tonight, but I don’t keep a whole lot of sweets in my kitchen.”

I watched, a little baffled, as he began opening and closing glossy white cupboards, most of them swinging open at a single touch.

“I’ll ask Rose to bring some when she comes Tuesday—that’s my maid and my best mate. She’s sweet and kind, you’ll like her.”

He had a female best friend? Who was also a maid? Who the fuckwasthis man?

“For now, this is the best I can do,” he said, producing a battered cardboard tub of hazelnut ice cream from a freezer that looked like a cupboard.

My heart leapt into my throat and excitement vibrated through me. Was he really going to give it to me? I hadn’t had ice cream since I was a kid. I didn’t breathe as the Saint slid the tub across the counter. With reverence, I popped the top off.

“There’s only a few bites left,” he said apologetically, his eyes on me as he pushed a spoon across the counter.

I set my gun down and forced myself to calmly pick up the spoon even if I wanted to snatch it.

The first bite that dissolved on my tongue made my eyes slam shut and I groaned. Holy fuck, it was better than I remembered.I greedily sucked every last drop from the spoon and went for another, but I made myself slow down. I needed to draw this out, to make the heaven last as long as possible and—

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