Page 247 of Vicious Saint
“I wasn’t judging you…I was saving you.”
“From what?! I clearly had the situation under control.”
“From mistakes you won’t be able to come back from.”
My lips twist in disgust…because howdarehe play the voice of reason card.
“I’m anobodyto you, remember? Why do you care?”
“You are not a nobody.”
“Your words to Theory,notmine.”
Saint peers over his shoulder at our familiar audience, then groans, abducting me again. “Come with me.”
“Hell no.” I escape…again.
This asshole’s yet to even bother apologizing for calling me anobody. Let alone everything else. Hindering a trip to jail for mauling his ex is not enough for unsought forgiveness.
“Fuck, Jimi. You honestly think I don’t regret the shit I said?”
“Got an odd way of showing it.”
“Me leaving you alonewasmy way of showing it.”
“Such the martyr.” I bat my lashes. “All must be forgiven now.”
This time when Saint grabs my wrist, it’s hard enough to cut off blood flow. “You and your fucking sass,” he mutters, dragging me along with stumbling legs toward the woods.
“What the hell are you doing?!” I screech.
“Getting you alone.”
Memories come flooding back of all the times throughout the year he’d done just that. In elevators, closets, deserted corners at parties. He even preferred his taunts whispered.
Saint puts on shows when it comes to retaliations…petty and lethal. But with his true forms, good, bad, seductive, they were almost always just for me.
He stops at the base of the woods, tucking us away in the shadows of a large tree, then turns to face me. I can tell Saint’s fighting—and failing—to stop himself from perusing my legs. Similar to the way he was when finding me with Craig.
“You need to quit drawing attention to yourself.”
“How so, exactly?”
Saint’s chin is lifted, but it takes a second for his eyes to follow.
“The stunt with Annalie.”
“Thatstuntwas in defense of you and Theory.”
“And I fucking appreciate it, believe me.”
“Really? ’Cause other than your ‘Thank you, Jimi’ it’s been hard to tell you appreciated anything I’ve ever done for you at all.”
The blue of Saint’s eyes appear through a shred of moonlight between the leaves above our heads. They’re wild and desperate,filled with the type of pain that only comes from words, or feelings, unspoken.
Saint’s mouth opens, then closes, and opens again to say something but bright lights in the distance force him to shield his eyes.
What comes next happens too fast for me to register anything.
