Page 10 of Of Saints & Savagery
I breathe a sigh of relief, then carefully unfold my legs, turning toward the window. I grip the sill and lift myself slowly, until just my eyes are above the sill, peering in. On the other side of the glass, a pair of eyes stares directly into mine.
With a shriek of surprise, I jump back, stumbling on the edge of my skirt. I fall clumsily onto my hands, and behind me, I hear the soft squeak of the window rising, and then a body leaps onto mine. In one motion, he flips me over, his hands clamping around my wrists, his knees gripping just below my armpits, his weight too high up my body for me to buck him off with my hips.
I open my mouth to warn him that he really doesn’t want to fight me, but I register in the darkening twilight that it’s not one of the Sinners.
“Nate?” I ask, blinking up at the long-lashed doe eyes behind his glasses. “Nate Swift?”
“I see my reputation precedes me,” he says, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “No table dancing required.”
“Want to get off me?”
“Want to tell me why you’re spying on me?”
“Not particularly.”
“Then I guess we’re at an impasse.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I say, and I twist sideways. He’s stronger than I expected for a guy his size, scrappier than he looks, his muscles wiry and tight. It takes a full minute to reverse positions. When I have him pinned, both of us are breathing hard. I’ve been on the ground with girls in the pit, and it’s essential to know the way out of at least the common holds, but I’m better with my fists, where precision matters more than brute strength.
Nate stares up at me, his big, milk chocolate eyes slightly unfocused, his glasses having been knocked off during our tussle. I’ve only seen him from afar, so this is my first close encounter. I notice a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks, and realize he’s cute, with his loose, unruly curls and that smile and those eyes. He’s not my type, but I’m surprised I haven’t heard rumors about girls chasing after him, considering his mysterious genius reputation and that he’s pretty easy on the eyes.
“Well, this is unexpected,” he says, no longer trying to free himself as we assess each other.
“You didn’t think girls could fight?”
“I didn’t have Angel North’s girlfriend sitting on my penis on this year’s bingo card.”
“I’m not—Angel is not my boyfriend,” I say, my face heating.
“But you are still sitting on my penis.”
“Sorry,” I blurt, jumping up and backing away.
Nate sits up and squints at the ground, patting across the dirt for his glasses. “No worries. It was… Interesting.”
Apparently there are still innocents on campus, even if I can’t count myself among them.
Finding his spectacles at last, he sets them back on his nose, albeit crookedly, and climbs to his feet. The ground is wet, and we’re both still damp, dirty, and disheveled after brushing ourselves off. We survey each other for a moment. Now that we’re not nose-to-nose, I see why he’s unremarkable enough to slip under the radar for most girls. I wouldn’t have noticed him from afar either. He’s average height, of a slight build, and his brown hair and brown eyes aren’t going to catch any eyes from across a room. Add to that the slightly standoffish, aloof aura that surrounds him, as if he’s a step removed, even when it’s just the two of us. Being an outsider myself, I know the feeling well.
“So, you’re the Sinners’ cousin,” I say awkwardly, since too long has passed since either of us spoke. I remember Saint saying Nate was connected to the Sinceros and therefore we can’t trust him.
“My cousin is their cousin,” Nate corrects. “I’m just here doing a job that needed to be done.”
“What if I needed you to do a job?” I ask. “Could I trust you to keep it quiet?”
While I have more reason to trust Saint than a guy I just met who has connections to a family that might have made Eternity disappear, I also need to protect myself from my brother. I won’t entrust Nate with the search for Eternity, but I don’t know anyone else who can make sure what happened with Angel doesn’t happen again. I need someone on my side, and if I can’t get that, then I need a neutral party.
“Discretion is why people hire me,” Nate says.
“How much do you charge?” I ask, eyeing the vintage Rolex on his wrist.
“I don’t need money,” he says. “But you can pay me in other ways.”
I decide he’s not quite arrogant enough to pull off a smirk after all. His is more of a secretive smile, just the hint of one. My stomach dips, but I try to keep my expression placid.
“I don’t think that would be safe,” I say. “My guys—my friends—the guys…” I stumble over my words, not knowing what to call them. “They’re… Possessive.”
“You think I want sex?” Nate asks, looking bewildered.
