Page 77 of Saint

He might be right.

I’ve dated. I’ve had plenty of opportunities to lose my virginity. But one boyfriend after another came and went, and none of them felt right—Liam included. It wasn’t because I was saving myself for a particular time or person. I held onto it because I was afraid of what would happen if I didn’t.

I knew what turned me on—what got me excited. But I didn’t know how to vocalize it.

While most girls at school seemed to want slow kisses in the moonlight and flowers, my fantasies were much darker. I didn’t get excited over date nights and sweet foreplay. I craved something else—and Saint was the first to see it.

The first to make me accept it.

I kneeled in front of him in that forest, and I understood why I was a virgin. I understood why nothing else could ever be the same.

“You understand now.” It’s not a question as Saint watches me work through my thoughts.

“Yes.” I tip my chin up, feeling even more vulnerable now that he made me admit that. “So what’s your weakness? Everyone has one, right?”

If he’s going to call out my flaws, I can do the same.

Saint crouches in front of me, bringing himself to my eye level and forcing me to gaze into his dark maple eyes. My knees are beginning to burn against the tile, but I don’t flinch.

“You are.”

My heart hammers, and the longer he stares, the further my stomach plummets. “I’m just a person.”

“You’remyperson.” His teeth grit, like my comment is an insult to him. “Why do you think Liam was with you?”

“What does Liam have to do with this?”

Saint doesn’t answer right away. He doesn’t stand. He doesn’t touch me. He just watches and waits as my heart sinks, and I realize that if I’m his weakness, then I’m also part of this twisted game.

“I was his trial?” I guess, my heart racing.

Saint shakes his head slowly, reaching a hand up to trace the center of my throat once more. “No, Violet. You were mine.”

“Yours?”

He runs his finger up my jaw and along the apple of my cheek, tucking my hair behind my ear. And I feel myheartbeat between my temples as I try to process what he’s saying.

“Most initiates pass their first four trials in six months or fail. I passed gluttony, pride, wrath, and greed in three because I was conditioned my entire life on how to stay in control. Over the next year, I checked off sloth and lust. And then there was one.”

“Envy.”

He nods.

“What does that have to do with me?”

Saint stands, stepping back and looking down at me. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

“And you’re avoiding the question.”

“I’m answering your question,” Saint bites back. “I said you get one, and that’s the one I’m answering.”

Saint’s train of thought is all over the place, whether he realizes it or not. I asked about the blood on his shirt, and nothing he’s saying comes close to answering that question. Still, I swallow my frustration because arguing won’t do me any good when he’s put me at his mercy.

Again.

“Envy,” Saint repeats after a long pause. “I didn’t think they’d find a way to test me on it, honestly. It took the guys a year to come up with it because I’m not weak enough to envy what other people have. But then I saw you.”

“Me?”

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