Page 13 of The Rise of Saint (The Sins of Saint 1)

“I thought Brad was my friend.”

My control slipped, and I reacted, throwing my glass across the plane, the sound of it shattering splitting through the cabin. “That fucker fooled you, played you, pretended to be someone he wasn’t, said the words you wanted to hear so he could win your trust. Meanwhile, when he wasn’t with you, he was shooting crack and fucking whores like the low-life piece of shit he was.” I stood, pulling my hand through my hair, the level of anger rising with every passing second.

Her green-eyed glare corrupted with misplaced grief locked on to mine. “I know he betrayed me.”

I arched over her, clutching the back of her seat. “Then you know why I planted lead in his goddamn skull.” Her eyes widened as she looked up at me, studying me. I smiled. “If you’re looking for any sign of remorse, you won’t find it.” I brought my lips down to her ear. “Because I feel none. Having Brad’s blood on my hands is one of the few things that won’t keep me up at night.”

She shuddered, and a rush of air swept past her lips, her throat moving as she swallowed. Being this close, I could smell her fear, her uncertainty. She reeked of ignorance and naivety, a scent I wanted to replace with my own, like a goddamn animal staking its claim on what was rightfully his to take.

My corrupted thoughts filled my head like a toxin, and I reached up and eased a single digit down the curve of her neck, feeling her rapid pulse beneath my fingertip. It was easy to see she was holding her breath, fearing my next move. Hating my touch. Despising me. Something I planned on changing very, very soon.

Tracing the tip of my nose down the edge of her ear, I allowed my fingertip to travel farther down her chest, across her smooth, satin-like skin. I teased a finger against the fabric of her dress, all along the V-shaped neckline above her breasts. So young. So innocent. A fragile doll that would crack under the wicked touch of a man like myself.

I reached between her breasts, a single fingertip traveling across her soft skin, and I heard her finally take a breath.

“Don’t touch me,” she whispered, her voice and lack of conviction far too weak to deter me from exploring her body. In fact, it only inspired me to want to feel more of her skin beneath my fingertips. Soft, silky, innocent. It made my mouth water to taste her, to ravage and ruin her, to see her back arch while I fucked her sweet little body into submission.

“Oh, dear Mila.” I slipped a hand inside her dress and cupped her naked breast, not giving a fuck whether my touch was welcome. She was mine, after all; she just didn’t know it yet.

A soft whimper of air rushed from her lips, and I closed my eyes, relishing the sound as it fucking thrilled me to feel her stiffen, her breathing labored and heavy. Her nipple hardened against my palm, the tiny pebble begging to be sucked, her body reacting beautifully to my uninvited caress.

“There will come a time, Mila, when you’ll beg me to touch you.”

She turned her face toward me, her rosy pink lips glistening with invitation, begging to be ravaged until swollen. Her chest rose and fell, soft breaths wafting from her mouth like a breeze of seduction. I could practically smell her lust, her eyes boring into mine like she was begging for something. Something she didn’t want, yet inexplicably needed.

She licked her lips, her tongue demanding my attention. “I…would rather die.”

I looked down at where my hand disappeared beneath her dress, smiling.Well played, Mila.

The swell of her breast fit perfectly in my palm, and I squeezed the rounded flesh before pulling my hand from her dress. Her body sagged back in the seat, cheeks flushed and flustered as she visibly struggled to catch a breath. I was a hunter, a man who relished the chase, and it was easy for me to see when a woman was desperate to fight the most basic human urges—to succumb to sin. But there was a strength in Mila I hadn’t seen for a long while, the kind of strength that would put the challenge back into the hunt—a temptation I would kill to indulge in.

Not taking my eyes off her, I watched her unbuckle her safety belt, getting to her feet. “I need to use the bathroom.”

“Elena will take you.”

Mila brushed past me, purposely avoiding eye contact. I sat back down and stared after her. The sick fuck in me wondered how wet she was between her legs. I didn’t know which thought turned me on more—the thought of her wanting me and submitting, or the thought of her fighting me until her body betrayed her in the worst possible way. But whether she submitted or kept on fighting, she would give me what I wanted. I’d make sure of it. I’d waited for this day for years, following this road of vengeance and retribution until I finally reached the destination I yearned for. A place where I could right every wrong ever done unto me.

8

Mila

I could hardly putone foot in front of the other. My emotions were tearing down every ounce of strength I had left in me, wiping it away like it was nothing but dust.

Elena walked out in front of me, and I followed, praying I wouldn’t break down—at least not until I was alone.

“Here you go.” Elena stood to the side and pointed at the door. I rushed inside before it was too late—before the walls came tumbling down, losing myself in the wreckage.

The click of the door sounded, the signal for me to let go. To let the cracks break, to let me shatter into pieces.

It took one breath, one moment for a lifetime’s worth of tears to flush through my soul and pour from my body like a river of sorrow. Everything faded to gray, the blackness of the world blinding me. Except for the blood. Brad’s blood. I could still clearly see it seep into the carpet, his body having no use for it any longer. Saint didn’t even blink. He didn’t give Brad’s corpse a second glance. He just wiped the smears of blood that spattered my face from my cheeks, as if it had the power to taint me.

I turned and fell back, slowly slipping down the door, crying so hard it hurt. Every tear cut down my cheek, the pain unbearable.

Saint took me. He took me against my will. Kidnapped me. Threatened me. Then touched me. Something he had no right doing. Something my body had no right liking. But it did. I did. The moment he slipped his hand in my dress, my core tightened, and it wanted more. My body wanted more. How was that even possible? This man was the devil, evil incarnate and didn’t even try to pretend otherwise. The second I realized what was happening, it was like a switch was flipped, that single moment of desire turning into a violent surge, a sickening feeling I had never experienced before.

He made me sick. Saint made me sick. His touch was venom, and his words were nothing but lies, manipulative deceptions of twisted truths. I had only been in his presence for a few hours, yet it felt like he had been infecting me my whole life. Like he had been slated into my bones.

“Mila, are you okay?” Elena knocked on the door, and I wiped at my cheeks like it was possible to erase every trace of my tears.

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