Page 56 of Tainted Saints

“Well, they had to teach us something at the boarding school I was at last,” I tell him, letting go of Forest’s hand and stepping closer. “So, may I?”

I hold his intense gaze as I hold out my hand, and he gives a dark chuckle. “Line them up, Reg.”

I bite my lip as I grin, Lan placing his gun in my hand. It’s still warm from his touch, and there’s something intimate about that which makes my core heat. It feels heavy in my hand, and I take a moment to feel the weight of it against my palm. There’s power to holding a gun, a safety that comes from knowing that you can pull the trigger and stop the monsters.

“Ready, Duchess?” Lan asks, and smiling, I give him a nod, then walk to the line scratched in the dirt.

Closing my eyes, I take a couple of deep breaths, allowing my mind to settle in the place of stillness that our shooting master used to tell us to find. Once my racing heart has calmed, I open my eyes and raise the gun, firing off three shots in quick succession. The sound of glass smashing fills the night, followed by stunned silence.

Turning around, a fissure of anxiety races through me at the shocked faces.

“Well, you’re just full of surprises ain’t you, sugar?” Forest comments, blinking and then giving me a naughty grin. “And that was hot as fuck.”

I shrug. “I was top of my class.”

“Damn,mi tesoro,” Blaine whispers, and I look over to see his smiling face taking me in as if for the first time. A blush steals across my cheeks, then my gaze lands on Landon, stalling at the fire raging in his dark eyes.

“Top of your class?” he questions, sauntering over to me like a jungle cat. My heart flutters wildly in my chest the closer he gets, my body humming when he’s just before me. “Let’s see how good you really are, shall we?”

My brows dip as he presses a chaste kiss on my cheek, then bends down and grabs something before walking towards the target area. Spinning, my stomach tightens when he stops and places a tin can on his head.

“What’s going on, Lan?” I ask, my voice trembling as he grins back at me. Fuck, he’s pretty like this, all wild and mischievous.

“Take your shot, Duchess,” he says, arms open at his sides, and my eyes go wide. There’s a challenge in his, and I think of the girls who told me to back off, like I didn’t belong here. I mean, maybe I don’t, but I want to.

Raising the handgun, I calm my mind again, letting everything float away and focus on the can. There’s a zen place you need to find to shoot, I’ve no idea how anyone does it effectively in a warzone or battle, but this I can do.

Releasing the breath I just took, I pull the trigger and the shot rings out, the can flying off Lan’s head and landing in the grass. My shoulders slump, my breath panting as adrenaline rushes through me.

Before I can take another full breath, Lan is hoisting me up in his arms, my legs wrapping around his waist as he palms my arse and strides back towards the restaurant.

“Lan—” I cut off when he kicks the door open, the sound of it bouncing off the wall loud as he takes me into the main room, the low lights making the space feel intimate.

The table has been cleared, but they are still pushed together and he strides over to the end of it where we were sitting not so long ago before lowering me to the ground. Taking the gun, he lays it on the table top with a thud.

“You’re fucking perfect, you know that?” he asks in a raspy voice, his palms gliding over my shoulders and pushing my wool jacket off, letting it fall to the floor. “Fuck, I’ve tried to hold back, Duchess.” His chest heaves as he unbuttons my cardigan, pushing that off my shoulders too. “But it’s like you were made for us, regardless of what this fucked up world says.”

“Lan…” I moan when his head dips and he kisses the column of my neck, his fingers working the buttons of my blouse and then tugging that off my body, leaving me in just my lacy bra and trousers. The room is warm, but my nipples still pebble, my skin breaking out in goosebumps.

His fingers move to the waistband of my trousers, popping the button and lowering the zip. They are wide-legged, so they drop to the floor in a swish of fabric, and then he's pulling back, his gaze devouring me like I’m the thing that will save him.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispers reverently, his fingers trailing a line of fire down my skin. A pleasurable shiver cascades over me, my fingers desperate to get him undressed, to feel his hot skin pressed against mine.

“Lan, please,” I beg, reaching out to push his leather jacket off his shoulders. His chest rises and falls rapidly with his breathing as I reach for the zip on his hoodie and unfasten that, my hands trembling as that joins the piles on the floor. Gripping the hem of his long-sleeved T-shirt, he raises his arms, his gaze never leaving my face as I tug upwards.

The heat of him hits me like a furnace, his lavender and leather scent washing over me, drowning me until I’m dizzy with it. His body is stunning, every inch covered in artwork, and my fingers are reaching out to trace an image of a dragon before I’ve even given it any thought. He shudders, then he’s pressing up against me and I want to weep at how fucking perfect it feels to have him touching me like this.

He brings a finger up under my chin, lifting my face as he plants his soft lips onto mine. It’s no less destroying than our previous kiss, maybe even more so because he’s pressed against me, all of his warmth and vitality seeping into me like a balm that will heal me of all my trauma.

His hands cup my arse, pulling me towards him even closer before he picks me up, placing me on the edge of the table. My legs open for him, and he fills the space between my thighs, his hard length pushing against my core in a way that has my knickers a mess in seconds. I can’t stop running my hands all over his skin, tracing the lines and furrows of his muscles, pausing at a puckered scar on his lower abdomen.

“I wanted our first time to be slow and take hours making love to you,” he whispers against my lips, then his hands are on the crotch of my panties and he yanks, tearing the fabric. A pained gasp leaves my lips at the sting of the fabric pulling against my soft flesh, but a stroke of his fingers soothes the hurt. “But if I don’t have you right fucking now, Duchess…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, but I look down between us to find him undoing his jeans, his thick length springing free, a glint of silver at the tip flashing in the low lights. The breath leaves my lips at the sight, at his tattooed hand wrapped around his large dick.

“Look at me, beautiful,” he commands, and my gaze snaps to him, widening when I see the gun in his other hand.

“Lan?” I question, my heart pounding in my chest as a thread of fear races through me.

---