Page 375 of Vicious Saint
I’m already wiggling when he makes the first slice, which does nothing but cut narrow lines down my chest. Hot torrents of pain stream through me, but I swallow a scream, unwilling to give this motherfucker any satisfaction.
Not even when my naked breasts are exposed to him.
By the time Boris gets to my leggings, though, I force myself to remain still to avoid bleeding out through my vagina, doing the same the rest of the way down to my ankles.
Last goes my panties, resulting in the first cry slipping past my lips—because now I’m hung up, my entire naked body on show for a homicidal stranger.
“You have very nice body,” Boris comments matter-of-factly in his heavy Russian accent. “Nice and thick…how I like it.”
I’d take it as a compliment if it didn’t sound like he’s referring to a steak. At this point, the best I can hope for is a quick and painless death, something proven fruitless as he slices a line, slow and steady, down my thigh.
There’s no holding back the agonizing scream anymore.
Which, of course, has the guy in front of me on his haunches letting out a satisfied noise.
Not enough to add a second line, though.
“Consider yourself on the list of fuckers dying tonight,” I sputter, which is quickly followed by another slice. This time fast, deep, and dangerously close to my vagina.
“I like your tattoo,” Boris states, unaffected by the threat or my scream. “Very fitting for a pretty princess. Just missing one thing.” A moment later the tip of his knife is cutting into skin again.
The sounds bursting out of me are incoherent, desperate, as I watch him carve a bloody crown above my zinnia.
Using the only defense I have on hand,or should I say mouth, I spit on Boris’ head, finally rattling his cage enough to spring to his feet.
Epic winandfail as he strikes me in the face with the back of his hand, making my cheek sting and head whip to the side so hard I’m dizzy.
Warm blood trickles down my lips, adding a maniacal twist to the smile spreading them. “For a big guy…you sure do hit like a pretty princess.”
Crack goes the other cheek.
Unlike the first slap, this one has tingles erupting under my skin, adding an odd burst of energy that has my smile welcoming a full on belly laugh. “A little better, keep up the practice and you’ll move up toHPICin no time.”
Dirty nails claw into my cheeks. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you, princess?”
“Sounds a lot more likeyouthink I’m funny.”
A slow, dangerous sound rises from Boris’s chest. “There it is…”
“There’s what?”
“The same spark in your eyes as your father.”
“I’m nothing like that sick fuck!”
Boris points his knife at me. “Well, you better hope so, princess, because crazy people are much more fun for me to break.”
49
Saint
“Are you there yet?” Archer asks anxiously through the phone, the tires of his Porsche screeching against the pavement as I make a quick left. “One minute out. Where’s my dad?”
“Looks like he’s still on his way to the Ivanov mansion. The accident must’ve slowed him down too.”
Good.
Exactly what I was riding on, sans the fucking fender bender that added an extra twenty minutes on the highway.
