Page 55 of Conquered

“Your heart.”

CHAPTER 16

Sara

I wasn’t used to being surprised, not really. During college, I’d seen so many insane things from catching lovers inside a girl’s bathroom fucking like rabbits to the horrible initiations into fraternities and sororities that I’d wanted no part of. Maybe I had been sheltered while living in Montana or even Seattle where I spent my early formative years, but the moment I stepped foot off the bus in Chicago, it was as if I’d lost my virginity all over again.

The city, the lights, and the crowds had been overwhelming. Almost immediately I’d buried myself in my studies or in fiction books, most of them by my favorite authors: Stephen King and Dean Koontz, and lapping up every Bentley Little for the third and fourth time. My roommate at the time had called me a wallflower, making fun of me in front of all her cool friends because I had cheap clothes from Walmart or mail order from JCPenney.

Meanwhile, she wore Gucci or Prada on her feet, her handbag costing more than my first car, and her clothing as if she had a personal shopper in Paris.

So what did the wallflower girl do? She’d buried her nose even deeper into books, finally getting inspiration to write several short stories. At first, they’d been tame, more like horror lite, but over time, I’d allowed my loneliness and depression to drive me deeper into violent acts of murder, spirits with malevolent thoughts, and demons who rose from the dirt like cockroaches.

It had fulfilled a need in me, although it had also pushed me further into being a loner.

Until Josie and Taylor had popped into the diner one day. Instead of making fun, they’d asked me questions, all three of us finding common ground. We’d become fast friends almost overnight, which had pushed my writing to the back burner for almost two years.

Now I could feel it coming back with a vengeance, ideas flowing like wildfire.

Especially since I’d overheard some of what Easton had said to his brother. I’d heard the angst, the odd concern in Styx’s voice that wasn’t typical of a normal family. Oddly enough, it was a similar conversation I’d heard my parents expressing when I’d announced I was accepting the full ride scholarship to the University of Chicago. It had been funny to me at the time. They’d left all they knew in the blink of an eye after news regarding my uncle had surfaced, yet when I’d wanted to better myself, my mother had cried herself to sleep.

I wasn’t certain how to react to hearing about how much Easton’s past had affected all three men born into the Saint family. What little I’d captured in my foray into secretly listening added credence to the stories my friends had alluded to. Styx had been a hired assassin? I knew there were such professions, including mercenaries hired by various military operations to extract kidnapped foreigners, eliminating everyone involved with the abduction.

But I had a feeling the kills mentioned were much more gruesome. What in God’s name had their father done to them to turn them so bloodthirsty?

Or maybe I’d read too many horror books.

What I’d heard hadn’t really bothered me. What had made me swoon a little too much was hearing praise from Easton. He genuinely seemed to appreciate having me around.

That only fueled the fantasies that much more, which was utterly ridiculous.

I’d sipped on my wine, enjoying a hot bubble bath complete with a few flameless candles and enjoying myself thoroughly.

All the while I’d plotted stories and fantasized about the rough and tumble man.

While I’d forgotten to ask if there was a dress code for dinner, I had a feeling flip-flops and shorts, my usual evening attire when it was this warm outside, wouldn’t cut it. My mother had given me a simple yet lovely body-hugging black dress for Christmas, which had shocked me until she’d said it was my graduation present.

Something appropriate to wear under my cap and gown, she’d said.

Or to funerals.

My mother was a no-nonsense woman and it had taken the wind out of my sails. But for some crazy reason as I took one last look into the mirror, twisting and turning back and forth, I was grateful I owned at least one nice piece of clothing. Plus, it looked entirely different on me than I’d thought it would, highlighting curves I hadn’t known I had.

Baggy was my uniform, jeans in the winter with oversized sweaters. I wanted to say I looked like a princess, but the color didn’t seem appropriate. Still, I’d even taken a few minutes to curl my hair with the electric curler I’d forgotten I’d purchased ages ago.

I almost didn’t recognize myself, especially with gray eyeshadow.

After blowing myself a kiss in the mirror, I grabbed my empty wineglass and headed out of the room.

The first surprise was hearing what sounded like rock music coming from downstairs. That couldn’t be right. Easton and rock music didn’t seem to go together. I walked carefully in the same black heels I’d worn the infamous night we’d… had a case of mistaken identity, heading down the stairs with one hand firmly planted around the railing.

By the time I got to the landing, I heard the rocking beat of the drums and smiled. Maybe the man had several sides to him, not just the grumpy guy with what seemed like a permanent scowl. I moved to the kitchen, half expecting to see him there, or maybe a huge staff of people preparing a feast. Finding nothing but the opened bottle of wine and a note, I bit my lower lip.

Pour yourself more and come outside. The evening is lovely. Bring the bottle.

Lovely? He used words like lovely? And what was he doing outside? Where was the chef I was certain he had on staff? Where was all the activity in the kitchen?

To say I was more than curious was an understatement. Holding both the bottle and the glass in one hand, I headed to the back door, noticing string lights I’d paid no attention to before. They were bubble lights strung everywhere in various colors. There were also white lights twinkling in several of the trees, which seemed even stranger.

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