Page 37 of Blood of the Saints

I don’t necessarily like it rough, I like the adrenaline. I always have. The way he was choking me against the wall had my pulse racing like no other. Teetering the edge of death while getting pleasure spikes that much-needed intensity.

“No,” I snarl, trying to control my facial reactions so he can’t see just how much he’s getting to me.

Ace grabs my waist aggressively and throws me down on the tiny bed. The quick movement causes my head to throb more, making me dizzy. I don’t have time to react before he rips the sweats down my legs.

“What the hell?” I yell, shocked. I try to squeeze my thighs together, but that only adds pressure to my need for a release.

“Tell that to your slick pussy. It’s fucking glistening for me,” he growls. I scramble back on the bed to get away from him, but he doesn’t even attempt to follow me. He just stands there, staring into my eyes.

“Fuck you! That doesn’t mean shit.” I don’t even bother to pull up my sweats as I try to put as much distance between us.

“Don’t get too attached to the other two. I’m going to find your weakness, make you crack, and then you’ll be gone before you know it.”

What the fuck does that mean? Is he going to kill me or let me go?

“What do you mean?” I ask.

Ace just gives my shaking body a once-over, smiles, and turns to leave.

“Why are you so obsessed with Novak?” I whisper to myself, but he stops walking and spins around, piercing me with his angry emerald green eyes.

The look he gives makes me wonder if Novak’s an enemy instead of an ally. If he’s such an enemy, why do they allow him in their club? The club is in his regular routine, so they can’t hate him that much if they allow him to come back. Right?

Ace studies me, but doesn’t say a word. We stare at each other for a minute before he storms out, locking me in behind him.

Fuck.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I stand, pulling my sweats up before lying down on the lumpy mattress.

How could I be so turned on when he had his hand around my throat? There has to be something seriously wrong with me. Lifting my hand to my neck, I rub it a little, remembering the feel of his calloused palm on my skin.

It’s going to be bruised in no time.

I’m no stranger to bruises and the pain that comes with getting them. After a while, I became an expert at hiding them from the world. Thinking of everything I went through makes me want to punch the wall again, but if I start, I know I won’t stop.

I used to be this weak girl that couldn’t stand up for herself, but I quickly learned how to build these walls and how to fight. Tommy taught me how to and he didn’t even realize it.

He’s dead now.

The man who changed me into the woman I am today is dead.

Dead by my hands.

Maybe I was never weak after all. Maybe I just never realized how strong I truly was until it was over. But I refuse to allow myself to fall into those same patterns as before. I’ll continue to fight them every moment they try to hold me down, every time they try to break me.

I turn my head into the mattress and scream, letting out all the emotions I’ve bottled up over the last day—hell, over the last four years.

Slipping my mask back on, I transform back into the strong woman I’ve become. I turn my thoughts to the situation in front of me that I can try to control—Ace, Blais, and Theon.

They’ve strapped me to a table, cut me, and threatened me, but I haven’t given them what they want. I’ve had enough experience with psychos to know what I need to do. I need to play along with their little games to get anywhere. The more power they feel they have, the easier they let their egos take over, leaving room for error.

I’ll use my sexuality, deceit, or give them fake information if I have to. But I won’t give them what they want.

The look in Ace’s eyes screamed that he was serious about finding my weakness. He’s not going to stop until I crack.

Too bad the only weakness I have is dead and buried away so deep that he’ll never find it.

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