Page 4 of Tainted Saints

“Best not to get into that debate just now, but I have an English aunt who would have my hide if I ever made a cup of tea in the microwave, so I’ll make sure you get a proper cup, Your Highness,” she teases, and some of the tension loosens from my limbs at the joke, knowing that I sound like a posh twat, my accent giving away my privileged upbringing.

All the tension returns though when we go through the next door and I’m faced with rows of bars, open cells down one side that all seem to be full. My breathing speeds up, my stomach going rock-hard as all eyes turn to us, the majority of them male and with an assessing gleam in their gazes that makes me want to run and hide. Catcalls and jeers start up a moment later, and the lewd comments have me shuddering and grateful for the bars that will keep us separate.

“Settle down, assholes!” she bellows, making me jump, and the shivers are back tenfold as she leads me, stumbling, to a cell towards the back.

Thankfully, one of the sides is the wall, the other being bars that separates it from the cell next door, its occupant sat on the hard-looking bench, leather-clad elbows resting on his knees, his head hanging down.

His tattooed knuckles appear to be split, blood dripping onto the floor between his legs, and I wonder what happened to him tonight. His hair is dark, longer, and slicked back on top, almost like a quiff, and as he raises his head to see what all the commotion is about, I’m caught by a face that takes my breath away completely.

He has a strong jaw covered in light stubble and his skin is the colour of golden sands bathed in sunlight. His plush lips are just begging to be kissed, and thick eyebrows dropped low over chocolate-brown eyes that I could easily lose myself in. There’s a deep scar that bisects his left brow, carrying on into his cheek, and a ringed piercing sits on that side of his nose. Ink covers his neck to his jawline, and the hair raises on the back of my neck, all my nerve endings stirring as he holds me captive in his gaze, his dark eyes unreadable.

“Garcia,” Officer Anne says as she draws me closer, ignoring the comments of the other prisoners. “I know you’ll look after our newest guest.” He sniggers at that, and Jesus fucking Christ, are those matching dimples in his cheeks? “You’ve been here enough times to know how this shit works, so fill her in, would ya?” She takes a key from somewhere, my eyes tearing away from him to watch as she slides it into the lock and then opens the door. Then her fingers are doing something with the metal cuffs on my wrists, which spring free a moment later, the blood feeling like it can move freely to my hands even though I know they weren’t that tight. “In you go, Miss Buckingham.” My entire body shudders as I walk into the cell, stopping just inside but unable to turn around, and my eyes fill with tears as the door clangs shut, the lock loud even over the noise from the other inmates. “I’ll go get that tea, okay?”

“T–thank you,” I whisper, unsure if she even heard me, but still not able to face the consequences of my foolish fucking actions. I’m not sure how I’ll manage if I see the bars trapping me here. I suppose it’s better than the darkened, windowless cell that I know awaits me back at the mansion.

My breathing comes faster as her retreating footsteps sound behind me, my hands clenched into quaking fists at my sides, my body flinching when the bang of the other door sounds and I’m left here, in this cell, with the criminals of Fairview trapped with me.

* * *

“Contaminated” by BANKS

BLAINE

I watch her, the most beautiful fucking girl I have ever seen, and wonder what the fuck she’s doing in a place like this with people like me? Her entire small frame shakes like a leaf desperately clinging onto the branch of a tree as a gale threatens to tear it off, and something in my chest stirs at the way her eyes refuse to open, at the strength it seems to be taking her to stay standing.

“You gonna give us something to help make the night pass quickly, missy?” someone rasps from across the large room, and my teeth grind as I stand, a growl leaving my chest as I look around at the others in here with us.

Their calls stop as I catch each of their gazes, telling them with a single stare to shut the fuck up. Many know who Blaine Garcia is, and know that my bloodied knuckles are nothing to what the other guy looks like. My reputation proceeds me most places on the east side of Fairview, everyone knowing not to fuck with me or pick on anyone else when I’m around.

I turn my attention back to the beauty in the cell next to mine and, stepping closer to the bars, I allow my gaze to take in her long, tumbling honey-blonde waves falling down around her slender shoulders, a deep-red blazer-style jacket doing nothing to hide the swell of her breasts. It’s fitted, highlighting her beautiful figure, and her dark green woolen pencil skirt shows off the curve of her ass but hides everything from hip to just below her knees.

I find, surprisingly, it’s the sexiest fucking outfit I’ve ever seen on a woman before. Something about the way it tells me everything and nothing about her body makes me more desperate to discover its secrets than if she wore something far more revealing.

Even in the quiet, she doesn’t stop trembling, just stands there, biting her bottom lip, and my brows lower as I continue to watch her.

“You cold,mi princesa linda?”

My own voice surprises me, deep and gravelly with disuse. I don’t often use it, resorting to my fists more often than not. She doesn’t flinch like I expect her to, instead, slowly turns her head and opens her eyes, frowning at me. It’s too fucking cute, but I’m rendered fucking speechless when she locks those stunning green eyes on me. They’re swimming with tears, but that only makes them shine like the sea glass my mother used to keep as a memento from the time her father was a sailor. My hand reaches up to my neck, running my thumb over the leather that hangs around it, the glass dangling from it.

“P–pardon?” Her voice wavers, but shit if it isn’t the most melodic voice I’ve ever heard. It reminds me of the old-time singers, another thing I have to thank my mom for because she used to play me old records whenever my shit stain of a Papi was out of the house.

I take a step forward. “Are you cold? You’re shivering.”

She looks down at herself, as if she didn’t notice that her fucking body looks like it’s about to shake itself apart. Not waiting for her answer, I shrug off my leather jacket, stepping closer to the bars that separate us, and hold it out for her. She flicks her wide gaze to my hand, licking her lip that looks like she’s been biting into it if the fresh scab is any sign, and then shakes her head.

“Oh, um, I’m okay, thank you,” she says, wrapping her arms around herself and proving that she is definitely not fine. A growl escapes my lips and her eyes dart back up to mine, but there’s not just fear in her gaze. There’s a thread of lust that has her pupils wide as she traces up my now bare arms and like a fucking peacock, I want to puff out my chest for her approval.Fucking hell, you never let chicks affect you like this.

“Take the damn jacket,mi princesa linda, before you injure yourself,” I command, my tone brokering no argument. She licks that bottom lip again—not the time to get a semi, Blaine—she tentatively steps closer, her fingers brushing mine as she reaches for my jacket.

Sparks race up my arm, and I hear her small gasp as my gaze flicks to her perfect face, her lips open in a way that’s far too fucking inviting.Shit, dude, head out of the fucking gutter.

“T–thank you, Garcia,” she says, the words so soft that it sends a delicate shiver across my skin.

“Blaine,” I correct her, not sure why I do as only my boys call me that. Everyone else calls me Garcia. “My name is Blaine.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Blaine. I’m Aspen,” she tells me, and fuck, even the small smile playing around her lips almost knocks me on my ass. It could also be that sexy as fuck British accent.

I watch as she puts my jacket on, taking a deep inhale, her eyes closing briefly as she snuggles into the huge garment. Shit, it almost drowns her, she’s tiny compared to my bulk. Opening her beautiful eyes, her cheeks flush when she sees me staring at her, but I don’t look away. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. She’s just so fucking enchanting.

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