Page 1 of Tainted Saints

ChapterOne

“tired” by das

ASPEN

My palms startto dampen and my breath comes in short gasps, the air thin in my chest. The lights in the pharmacy blaze with sterile brightness, casting harsh shadows on the empty aisles. The sounds of laughter and chatter from the mall—or shopping centre as we call it back home in England—invade my ears, grating and jarring like nails on a chalkboard.

My tongue darts out to moisten my parched lips as I warily scan my surroundings, trying to see if anyone is nearby, but I’m alone aside from the young woman at the till. I extend a shaky hand toward the red nail polish, even though I know I shouldn't. It's not as if I need it. Back at the Ambassador’s residence, I have more bottles than I'd ever use, but it feels as though some alien force has commandeered my body, compelling me to act against my better judgement.

Ignoring the crisp dollar bills tucked neatly in my purse, I seize the small glass bottle. It slides smoothly into my jacket pocket, joining five others already concealed there. Then just like that, I find myself on the move, hustling towards the exit with the stolen prizes in my pocket, my heart pounding like a war drum in my chest, the only sound I can hear as I make my escape.

Relief floods my veins, leaving me almost lightheaded as I pick up my pace, the doors within my sight.

“Uh, miss?” a deep voice rumbles behind me, and I freeze, feeling the blood drain from my face as my heart thumps wildly in my chest. Shaking, I slowly turn only to come face to face with a security guard.Why is there security here? It’s just a pharmacy.“I’m going to need you to empty your pockets, miss.”

Swallowing hard past the lump in my throat, I shake my head, my eyes filling with tears as guilt and shame leave a bitter taste in my mouth. I thought I was being so careful, making sure no one saw, and it’s almost closing time. The sky was darkening when I entered the mall, desperate for some relief from this itch that I can’t get rid of. I wouldn’t have kept them, previously I have given them away when the urge to steal becomes too much to resist, but I suppose that doesn’t matter anymore.

“I–I c–can explain…” I stutter, suddenly feeling a presence behind me. The crackle of a radio makes me jump just as a large hand wraps around my bicep, squeezing hard, a sharp pain racing up and down my arm as I yelp with shock. Trembles rack my body as his grip tightens, the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach telling me I’ve been caught.

“Need some help here, Bill?” another male voice says, his tone nasally and harsh, and I twist my head slightly to catch his blue uniform. Fairview Heights Police. Shit.

“I believe this girl has taken something that doesn’t belong to her,” the security guard—Bill—states, drawing my attention back to him, his eyes flicking behind me before focusing back on me.

“I–I was going to pay for t–them,” I rasp weakly as the officer yanks my hand out of my pocket. There’s a clatter as the bottle of red polish I was holding flies from my hand, smashing on the floor and spilling crimson across the white tiles. It looks like blood, and it’s only fear that roots me to the spot even as my mind screams at me to run. Tears fill my eyes and I sag in his hold as Bill steps forward and reaches into my pocket, pulling out the other bottles.

“We’ve heard it all before, lady,” the officer states with a sigh, taking my handbag off my shoulder and handing that over to Bill.

“Please, I can pay for them,” I beg, tears streaming down my face which feels red-hot and burns with shame. “Check in my purse, I have money.” My mouth feels so dry that I have to swallow several times, a pit in my stomach telling me that this time I’ve fucked up. Badly.

Bill tuts when he opens my bag, and my knees almost buckle when I remember the scarf I took from the shop across the mall and the earrings from the jewellery store. Usually, taking one thing settles the itch, but today, after what happened with the Ambassador this morning, it wasn’t enough. I was powerless to stop, promising myself that each item was the last. It didn’t work the first couple of times.

“You are under arrest for theft. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you can not afford one, one will be appointed to you," the officer tells me, the bite of metal around my wrists behind my back making my breaths come in short, sharp pants as they cuff me. He says something into his radio and then there’s another police officer beside us, a broad-shouldered woman with short brown hair, taking my bag from Bill. “You’ll need to come to the station with me, miss.”

He keeps a firm hold on my arm, but there’s no fight left in me, I know that the game is up. He tugs me outside of the store, into the mostly quiet mall for which I’m beyond grateful. I don’t know how I would cope with a whole load of strangers' eyes on me as I’m dragged away. I’ve never been caught before, never imagined how awful it would feel to be taken away like this.

Hanging my head, I catch a dark gaze trained on me from the shadows of an already closed store, and my heart pauses for a beat as I lock gazes with the watcher, my steps faltering. For a moment, I drown in his eyes, the colour of them so dark that it’s like staring at the night sky. The hair along the back of my neck stands on end, but I’m not quite sure if it’s due to fear or something else.

Either way, I’m pulled along by the no-named officer, breaking the intense connection with my mysterious stranger, and for some reason, I don’t feel quite as alone as I did moments ago. Hell, as I did this morning when the Ambassador informed me that I would be dating a boy I’ve never met because, and I quote,“His family is from good American stock.”

The cool night air hits me as we exit the mall, cooling my overheated cheeks but not easing the turmoil raging inside me. I look up into a starless sky, the sight reminding me of my observer back inside. Who was he? And why do I feel like he was watching me for more than just the drama of seeing someone being arrested?

* * *

“Dancer in the Dark” by Chase Atlantic

LANDON

I watch as Officer Jones takes her away, a growl rumbling in my chest at how tightly he’s gripping her arm. I don’t fucking like it, even though there’s no reason for me to feel protective over the rich bitch.

Heat flashes through my body, my teeth grinding when I recall the way I watched, mouth agape as she stole the scarf, then the earrings, and finally the nail polish. What the actual fuck?

When my uncle tasked me with tailing the British Ambassador’s daughter, I didn’t expect to find her so…captivating. Or to find her stealing like a downtown thief. She’s fucking loaded, why would she steal? She probably gets some sort of fucked up, rich botch kick taking things from people who are less fortunate than herself.

My upper lip curls at the thought. No matter how pretty she is, fuck that. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen with her softly curling, long, blonde hair and sparkling green eyes, her slender curves only accentuated by the fitted skirt and blazer she wore. Regardless of all of that shit, she’s still a thief and there is no reason for someone as rich as she is to be stealing.

Some might say that’s hypocritical of me, given my criminal background, but fuck them. I wouldn’t lower myself to steal from people who didn’t have it to spare, and the shop owners on this side of town aren’t exactly rolling in it. Fucking disgusting.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, tearing my gaze away from the spot that she disappeared through, and I reach into my jeans to take it out as Forest’s number with a picture of his cock flashes up on the screen. Fucking degenerate’s been at my phone again.

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