Page 11 of Ravaged Saints

Why did she tell them that? Is she insane?! These are men!

The taller guy moves in front of me, blocking my view of Bryn, and my pulse quickens; every hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and I want to tell her to shut up; this is dangerous. Didn’t she learn anything from the Hunters who grabbed her?

“Bryn!” I snap, unable to hold back.

The taller guy turns, a slow grin spreading across his face, and my stomach twists.

“What, Aspen?” Bryn glances over her shoulder, a mischievous smile curling her lips, her eyes glinting with something teasing.

I’ve never noticed before. “You told me there was nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Is she mocking me? I stare; what the hell?

“She is right; it’s nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart,” the other one, with a British accent and a cocky demeanor, chimes in with a wink.

“And you?” The tall tattooed guy faces me now; his eyes darken with amusement, and I take a step back instinctively.

“Not a call girl,” I deadpan, crossing my arms tightly over my chest.

He nods once, almost to himself. “I knew that.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I snap, and he just smirks, turning his attention back to Bryn.

I glance at Bryn again. She’s everything I’m not: tall, toned, and glowing even after weeks of near-starvation. Her blonde hair catches the fading light, shining like some fairy in the woods. I get it, okay? I get why these two are practically drooling over her, but that’s all the more reason for her to keep her mouth shut.

We keep walking, and my ankle burns with every step, a sharp pain shooting up my leg; the wet dirt sucks at my boots, slowing me down, and the cold is sinking into my skin. I’m exhausted.

“Want me to carry you, sweetheart?” The British guy falls into step beside me, his grin wide, eyebrows raised in playful challenge.

“I’m fine,” I mutter, keeping my tone icy.

“Max,” he says, holding out his hand.

I stare at it, then at him. I roll my eyes and keep walking. He did help get me down, but the trap was his, so…

“Do you two live nearby?” I ask, breaking the silence. The question has been on my mind since we left, and my instinct is telling me something isn’t right.

“Yeah,” Max says, not meeting my eyes, his eyes locked on the path ahead.

I study him more closely. He’s…different. Not as tall as the other one, maybe six-five, but lean and strong, his muscles shifting beneath his shirt as he walks, his pushed-back dark blonde hair catches the breeze, and his hazel-green eyes seem far away; he also has a faint scar that cuts across his chin.

“So?” His words cut through my thoughts, and I blink, realizing I’ve been staring for far too long.

“So?” I arch an eyebrow, trying to sound annoyed.

“You’re staring. What’s your conclusion about me?” His lips curl up, and there’s an irritating confidence in the way he asks it.

“I don’t know yet,” I say flatly, forcing my gaze forward.

Up ahead, Bryn walks close to the other guy. Her hips sway, and I see her arm brush against his.

“Knox,” Max says suddenly.

It takes me a second to realize what he’s talking about, and he smirks.

“Knox. Or Reaper,” he says with a shrug.

“Reaper?” I repeat, a little too loudly.

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