Page 57 of Sinners & Saints (Sinners & Saints)

I’m a bone once again—his alone.

“Hey, Darla,” he says as my mind reels. Not for the first time, his change in tone throws me off. It’s deep. Cautious. Hostile?

Maybe. But in a very different way than he’s confronted Silas. Looking at the slender woman standing before us, I have no idea why.

As horny as Daze pretends to be, he should be drooling.

Not inching away, dragging me with him like a security blanket. My eyes latch onto her hair first—long, blond curls that most definitely aren’t a wig. I catch myself self-consciously tugging on the synthetic strands ghosting my shoulders. As I do, the woman eyes my fingers, and her lips quirk.

“Daze,” she chirps, drawing his name between a pair of plump, pink lips. “I’m surprised you showed up. Though, I see you have anewfriend tonight.” I choke at the insinuation, but Daze’s arm pins me even tighter.

“Yeah,” he says. He doesn’t look at me, but I can practically hear him telepathically urging me to “play along.”

“Oh.” The woman’s eyes cut in my direction while I focus on her itty-bitty pink tank top and matching miniskirt. A pang of jealousy shoots through me—she has legs for days, coming up to Daze’s chin in height. “Shame. I hope you’ll still visit me later, though. We used to have such fun, you and I.”

My jaw clenches tight. Daze draws me closer.

“Sorry,” he grunts, and something flashes across his gaze. An apology? A warning? I’m not given a chance to decipher it before he lowers his head, pressing his mouth to mine. Warmth seeps from his lips as he nudges mine apart with a single flick of his tongue.

Colton would never be so restrained. I think that’s why I lean into him without thinking it through. Not because I want this. Enjoy this...

Or, perhaps I do, and I’m simply trying to convince myself otherwise.

As if he aims to prove me wrong, he leans in. Applies more pressure. Then he steps into me, gripping my chin with one hand, tilting my head to the side. Held captive in such a way, I can only relent to the onslaught.

He doesn’t peck my lips to prove a point—he kisses me feverishly. The way men do in movies—the bad movies I wasn’t allowed to watch that had nothing to do with God or the holy tenants my father preaches. Daze is without restraint, without piety. Without morals.

His tongue slips in, perilously deep, but I don’t stiffen like I should. I don’t bite down. I don’t push him out.

I close my eyes and arch my back into him. Fire creeps along my body, recalling his touch. His roaming hands and panting breath. His…

Unexpectedly, he pulls away and shoots Darla a strained version of his charming grin. “I’ve got plans tonight. See ya around.”

He practically shoves me forward toward a corner of the room. Craning my head back, I watch him, trying to decide what that really meant. An act? I should want it to be that simple. I should…

“I owe ya,” he mutters as if reading my mind. Is that confirmation that it meant nothing?

“Okay,” I stammer, collecting my breath.

“This way.” He keeps me close as we weave through the rowdy crowd. Soon enough, we make our way into what appears to be a locker room. Daze shoots a taunting stare at a man smoking something in the corner. “Beat it,” he orders.

The other man complies, scurrying out into the hall.

Daze slams the door behind him and rests his palms against the solid, metal frame. He draws in a short breath, his shoulders tensing.

“Are you alright?” I dare to ask, standing helplessly in the center of the room.

“Peachy,” he answers smugly before turning to face me. “You want a tour?” He steps further into the room, glancing around. “Lockers,” he points out, gesturing to them with a subtle wave of his hand. “More lockers. Some showers. Oh, and a bench.”

I raise an eyebrow, unsure as to where this is going. “And taking time to fight someone gets me closer to answers about Hale…how?”

His expression transforms instantly as his mouth loses its playful tilt. “Because the fight isn’t what’s important. Who’s watching?Thatis. It’s hard to draw them out these days, the real bastards calling the shots. Seeing me potentially get my ass beaten? That might do it. You just need to pay attention. Look for anyone who shouldn’t be here. You’ll know when you see them.”

“That’s cryptic.” More so than he usually is. My head swims. Once again, he’s speaking in riddles, but I also sense this is one of the most direct things he’s said to me. Pay attention. I find myself practicing that command on him first. Despite his apparent bravado, he’s still tense with restless energy. Whatever he expects to happen, it isn’t good. He’s worried. I can’t stop myself from reaching out, brushing my fingers along his arm.

“Are you okay?”

“No.” He sighs, closing the space between us. “Fuck,” he breathes, barely any sound to his voice. I lean into his touch as he cups my face with his hand. “How can I want to bury myself inside you again so soon?”

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