Page 25 of Dirty Little Saint

He bolts up out of his chair. “Riot sulks into a bottle of whiskey, you two have your poison, and I enjoy my solitude. Not sure why that’s so hard for you to grasp.”

I snicker. “Well, you don’t have to be a fucking dick about it. A simple no would’ve been fine.”

I lurch back as he rushes forward and grabs the sides of my chair. “Do not think for one second that I am any different than the man you first met. Just because I don’t want an entire coven of initiates coming all over you doesn’t mean that I’m going to let you determine my existence.”

The fucking nerve. My cheeks flame as I glare daggers at him. “Fuck you, Val. Go exist somewhere else then.”

His lip curls up into the nastiest snarl as he shoves my chair back, slamming it to the ground with me still in it. My back hits the floor and knocks the wind out of me.

He kneels down to straddle me, wrapping his hands around my neck. “One more word out of your mouth, and I will fuck it so hard, you won’t be able to speak ever again.”

I bite my tongue, wheezing as air slowly reenters my lungs. The look in his eyes is vicious.

“Relax, Val, she’s just worried about you,” Atlas chirps. He chuckles again as he lips the vial, rolling his tongue around the edges to milk every drop.

Val pinches my chin. “I don’t want her worry. I want her to fucking do what I ask.”

I swallow hard, my throat still burning from the poison and the weed.

We stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, both fighting the urge to either kiss or kill each other.

Riot and Atlas say nothing. They do nothing. This is just what we are.

Val lets me go with a grunt but doesn’t bother to pull me back up. “Let me know when he arrives.”

I stare at the ceiling as I listen to him stalk off. It takes Riot a few minutes before he offers me a hand up. “He’s just angry about his father coming. It’s not you.”

The fuck? “So now I’m his fucking punching bag?”

Riot shrugs. “You’re whatever we want you to be, Maur. And in turn, we are yours to do with whatever the fuck you want.”

A fire burns in me. A deep rage mixed with a craving to defy and destroy. “Is that true? Well, I’ll see myself down to the crypts then. So I can do whatever I want to him.”

Atlas stands up and yawns. “It’s your funeral, Maur. I’m going to take a nap.”

Riot cups my face in his hands. “After he kicks you out, come join us upstairs.”

I have a twisted longing for all of them. It’s undeniable. I’m their greedy little slut who can’t get enough. But neither can they. They take what they want when they want it.

Well… then so will I.

And right now, I want Valentin on his fucking knees.

It’s dark and cold as fuck down here. Here I go again, getting my ass in trouble. This addiction to it. To him. It’s like a gun, and I can’t take my finger off the trigger.

I haven’t been down here since he locked me in that coffin. Shivers tickle my thighs as I remember the way he controlled the little bullet vibrator he shoved inside me. And when he closed the coffin lid, the rush of adrenaline consumed me. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

But now my stomach twists with fear and anxiety as I stumble through the dark, wondering what state I’m going to find him in. A sane person would have walked away after getting their chair kicked over. But no, not this bitch. I’m just a glutton for more punishment.

When I get to the bottom of the stairs, the door’s ajar. Either he knows I can’t resist coming down here to piss him off some more, or he’s just that fucking confident that I’ll obey him.

Sometimes, I wish I didn’t want him so badly. He’s more than a walking red flag. He’s the ink, the cloth, the whole fucking flagpole.

I tiptoe through the doorway like a timid mouse. Candle-filled sconces line the entire perimeter, shedding some light onto this windowless and otherwise pitch-black crypt. The flames flicker rapidly as my presence shifts the energy in the space.

I drag my fingers across the stone walls as I walk, careful not to take too many deep breaths. Afraid that this crypt will somehow suffocate me.

I didn’t give much thought to what he’s doing down here. If in fact he’s enjoying his solitude. He could be jerking off in a coffin or hanging from the ceiling like a bat for all I know. I chuckle to myself as I picture it.

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