Page 19 of Lethal Saint

“All but one,” he confirmed, his black eyes pinched with worry. The Saint.Damien.“And I have people hunting him as we speak.”

I blinked, a tear rushing free, and my vision blurred. I didn’t see Damien sneak closer until his arms were around me. I recoiled at the sudden touch, but he didn’t squeeze or stroke like the hands yesterday. He just… held me.

“You’re far safer with me than alone,” he reminded me, making my breath stop when he kissed my forehead.

I avoided his gaze, his eyes too perceptive, too… gentle. It was jarring.

But I nodded, because he was right and all but one of the people who haunted my sleep were dead. And it felt good, being held like this. He killed all those people for me. For his mum and sister, but for me, too.

And yet…his words from last night came back to me. I pulled away from him, something souring my stomach, an emotion I wasn’t familiar with. Hot, twisting, burning like acid.

You don’t want to marry a man like me, little queen.

But he was just being kind again, like when he hugged me and armed me and made me food. What he meant was he didn’twant to marryme.I was full of imperfections, there was too much wrong with me—Dad was right, and Damien saw all my flaws, too.

“Do you want to see the security feeds, Vasilisa?” Damien asked softly, startling me.

“What?”

“You’re scared your father will get to you, and I know you’re scared of Finch, too. If you can see the feeds, you’ll know the building is safe. And you’re safe in here with me.”

I was safe in here, but could I leave? I swallowed the unease because they wereout there.My dad and my fiancée. They’d hunt me, I knew without a doubt. Finch wouldn’t stop until he owned me.

Do you think I care if your cunt is tarnished? That doesn’t matter to me, Vasilisa. You have more than one hole, and I have plans to fuck that virgin ass until you bleed. I know you’ll cry and scream, Vasya, but I’ll love every minute of it.

“Please, Saint,” I begged, my voice tight and chest aching.

“I’ll get you a tablet so you can watch them,” he said with a nod, ushering me down the hallway towards the kitchen. “I don’t want you to obsess over them, just check them when you need to see that the house is secure and—”

“What I said last night,” I interrupted in a rush, a thrill of panic and exhilaration going through me at the act alone.“Please.”

His shoulders dropped, and mine curled inward. It was there again, in the softening of his eyes, the gentle press of his mouth—rejection. “You really want to be tied to a bastard like me?”

“You’re the least dangerous bastard I’ve ever met,” I replied, freezing on instinct when he lifted his hand and—tucked a sleep-messy strand of blonde hair behind my ear, the touch continuing down my jaw. My heart quickened.Safe,I reminded myself.

“The reason I said no last night is because I don’t want you to make a rash decision because you’re scared. And because I’m fourteen years older than you, I’m constantly embroiled in danger and violence, and I don’t want any of that danger to touch you. You’ve been through enough, and I don’t want what happened to my mum and Willow to happen to you. Marrying me will make you a target to some people, Vasilisa.”

My mouth went dry. “It’ll keephimaway.”

His touch never left me; he skimmed his knuckles down my throat, the look on his face strangely hard to describe. He looked like he was fighting himself. “You should marry someone youwantto, little queen.”

I swallowed, my heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings in my chest.Be brave, Vasilisa. Be brave.

“You call me a queen,” I whispered, looking down at my gun, flexing my fingers around it. “Queens listen to advice, but they’re the ones who make decisions. They tell their subjects what to do. Am I wrong?”

“No,” Damien said with a blink. “Are you commanding me to marry you, Vasilisa?”

My dad would never allow me to do this. He’d throw me into the wall so hard my brain would bruise itself on my skull.

But I squeezed the handle of the gun for comfort and said, “Yes.”

Warm fingers framed my face, lifting it so I met the Saint’s stare, his intense black eyes softened by smile lines. “And you won’t let me convince you otherwise, even though you’re only choosing this because your survival instincts are in overdrive?”

“No,” I confirmed, my stomach squirming as his warm hand moulded to my cheek, the sensation so different than the twist in my belly when his uncle touched me. All because he put a gun in my hand and changed everything.

“Being my wife will put you in just as much danger as you’re in now.”

I jolted. My wife. It sounded so real when he said that, not like the hazy nightmare of being Armand Finch’s fiancée. I was too afraid of him for that to ever feel real; it was a bad dream like the one I had last night, full of bruises and screams and smug threats.

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