Page 80 of The Vipers and Their Vendetta

“What the fuck?” he snarls.

I shrug. “Just thought you seemed lost in your own world. Not like you not to hurl an insult or two at me.”

He frowns, and then his expression lightens, and he laughs. “Oh, Saint, I have so many more important things to think of now than any of you snakes.”

“Like fucking what?” I demand, that need to punch someone still not leaving me.

He walks two steps toward me, and my blood sings. Yes, this is it, he’s going to hit me, but he stops right in front of me and looks at me with something akin to pity.

“Like a woman I love. A kid I love. Family.”

His words hit hard. A woman he loves. I can’t stand his happiness. It’s an afront to all that is right in the world. “You fuckers don’t even know whose DNA the kid has.”

His hands flex, release, and flex again, but he doesn’t hit me. I’m about to throw the first punch when he takes the wind out of my sails and steals the damn air from my lungs.

Quietly, he says, “Hitting me won’t make you hurt any less, Saint.”

I open my mouth and snap it closed again.

He laughs. “You think I don’t understand? You think I haven’t felt the same things you are? My fucking father …” He shakes his head. “I’ve seen you, you know? The three of you, with that girl.”

I scoff, but he simply talks over me.

“The way you look at her. The way one of you always has to be touching her when she’s near. She’s not safe, though, is she?We didn’t fuck around the way you are. When we realized our Duchess was ours, we claimed her.”

Did they? I don’t see it that way, but I’m more interested in something he said a moment before. “What do you mean, the way we look at her?”

He laughs again. “If I have to explain that to you,SaintLaurant, you’re more fucked than I thought.” He looks me up and down. “The clothes, the food, the music, all your stupid shit, mean nothing. The same way as the way the watches I collected meant nothing.”

What fucking watches? What the hell is he talking about?

“You can either make sure the one thing that does mean something is safe and is yours … or not. It’s your choice. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I don’t have the time to flatten your fancy French ass because my woman is waiting for me.”

He walks away, raising his hand behind him, middle finger extended, as he does.

Fucking hell, if even that idiot can see the way we look at Vani, does that mean everyone knows?

She’s made a fool of us.

After walking for over an hour and listening to Don Giovanni because that matches my mood, I find myself back in the college. This place that used to be somewhere I felt so sure of myself. Prince of all I surveyed. But not any longer.Mon dieu. Venom has ruined us.

I push open the door to my room and stop.

What the fuck?

The paintings that were in my closet are now piled up on the floor in the middle of the room, and they are ruined.

I stare in a mix of shocked dismay and impotent rage, but then the fear creeps in, icy tendrils of it skittering down my spine. It’s not an emotion I’m used to, but this is weird. No one could have done this. How did they get into my room?

My gaze flashes to the windows, which are firmly shut. I locked my door when I left; I’m sure of it. And the paintings are dripping water, as if there’s been a leak. No, it’s as though they’ve been rained on, the same way my work was rained on the other day.

Not all of my pieces are out in the room. I count—there are at least another five still in my closet, along with my painting materials. So, what the hell happened here?

Vani’s words come back to me:The Preachers want to hurt you….

They do hate us, me in particular. What if this is their magic? Can it do that?

I’ve still got Roman’s cross. Does he know? Is this his revenge?

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