Page 3 of Dirty Little Saint

Valentin takes over as Riot goes for his knife. “Keep fucking her just like that.”

I want to roll my hips and spread my legs wider. “More,” I whine.

Atlas joins him as they take turns sliding their long smooth fingers in and out of my throbbing pussy.

I’m consumed. Wild with lust and need.

So much so that I don’t initially feel the sting of the blade ripping into my flesh.

But when I do, it’s fucking horrific.

I gurgle out a scream as he digs into my skin, carving me up like an animal headed for the slaughter.

Val and Atlas thrust harder, sending spasms to my core. I’m being pulled in two different directions—on the edge of coming and dying at the same time.

“Almost done, Firecracker.” Riot works the knife like an artist painting a masterpiece.

I want to jerk my hips, and this time, my body actually obeys me. The toxin must be wearing off.

The pain and pleasure intensify tenfold.

“It’s done,” he growls. “Open her up for me.”

Atlas and Valentin pull my pussy lips back. Riot licks his lips and eyes me like prey. “In absentia lucis, tenebrae vincunt.” In the absence of light, darkness prevails.

I flinch as he wraps his lips around my clit and sucks. A burst of adrenaline and spasms rush through my core like an explosion, as if I’m erupting from the inside out. I cry out as the orgasm I’ve been craving finally unleashes.

I don’t care about the pain anymore. I grab the back of his head and grind against his face. He chuckles, taunting me even more. Knowing they’ve been denying me for this very moment.

Atlas squeezes my nipples hard. “Say it, Firecracker.”

Riot scrapes his teeth against my swollen nub as he sucks, humming and moaning. I clench, then release, chasing the high as far as it will take me. “Mors vincit omnia,” I murmur. Death always wins.

They are devils. They are death itself. And they always get their way. They always win.

Another moan erupts from my chest, and I cum all over his lips.

Maureen

The Graves Estate makes Nocturnus look tiny in comparison. I can smell the hemlock even before we approach the thick iron gates. The fumes stick to my throat like sludge, burning my nostrils and making my head pound.

The tension builds between us the closer we get to the main house. I peer out the window, straining my eyes to see what lies beyond the darkness, searching for any flicker of light or life. A deep sense of dread settles into my bones. There is something not right about this place. And I thought Tenebrose gave me the creeps.

Atlas squeezes my shoulder. “Don’t be afraid, love.”

“Understatement of the year,” Valentin mutters from behind the wheel.

A chill snakes up my back. If fear were a living, breathing entity, then this is where it lives. “How angry is he?” I murmur.

“I don’t remember a time when my father wasn’t angry,” Riot hisses. “We killed Zeke. Bastard or not, he was still his son. There will be consequences.”

Fuck. “I killed his son… I’ll accept the punishment.”

The three of them collectively tense. Valentin jerks his head, finally looking at me for the first time since we embarked on this journey. “If Holden Graves touches a fucking hair on your head—”

“He won’t,” Riot snaps. “I promise you… he won’t.”

Atlas rubs both my shoulders as if he could miraculously massage the anxiety right out of me. “We stand together. Zeke tried to take our coven and our girl. According to the Nocturnus bi-laws, we did nothing wrong.”

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