Page 8 of No Saint

I smell the breakfast as I exit my bedroom.

Downstairs I find the chef plating up the food onto a tray as I asked, sliding it towards me. I take it before any of the staff can, going up one flight and down the right wing of the house where I’ve left her. Pausing at the door I wait for any sound and when I hear the bed creak, the movement of her body I know she’s either awake or will be any minute now.

I push on the door, opening it.

She lays in the centre of the bed, my staff had already come in and opened the curtains, knowing to ignore whatever they see within these rooms, even poor girls strapped to beds.

I place the tray of food on the dresser, turning to see her bathed in the early morning light of the sun. It touches her skin like a caress, making her glow. With the sun on her I see the different colors in her hair, the deep shades mixed with some dark blondes and those freckles pop in the light. She stirs, trying to move her arms and legs but struggles, and in her half sleeping state can’t figure out why she can’t move.

It was erotic in a way it shouldn’t have been.

Seeing her so restricted, her chest heaving as her breathing increases with her panic, seeing her legs move, thighs pinching together, arms thrashing. I could feel myself getting hard in my pants.

Slowly, I move across the room, stopping at the edge of the bed where I then reach down and allow myself to touch. My hand smooths down her exposed thigh, feeling that silky soft skin, warm and inviting. I keep moving, following the curves of her legs all the way down to her ankle and then back up, feathering my touch over her stomach, between her breasts and up her throat, following the hard, sharp line of her jaw.

If perfection could be personified, I’d have it in front of me.

I didn’t know how I didn’t see it before.

She stirs beneath my fingers and then those sky blue eyes pop open and they find me immediately.

For long seconds, silence fills the space between us, my hand against her cheek and her memories flooding back from the night before. The fight, the struggle…

I’m ready when she swings her head to the side and snaps her teeth towards my hand as if to bite.

“You’re a little feral,” I tell her, keeping my fingers from her teeth, “But I’m sure you can be tamed.”

“Where is my son!?” She screeches, thrashing wildly against her restraints, hard enough that the fibers cut into her skin, causing blood to flow. If it pained her, she doesn’t show it. Not as she moves and pulls, trying to free herself.

“Stop,” I command, seeing that blood snaking its way across her skin, smearing against her flesh and soaking into the sheets beneath her.

She doesn’t. She continues to pull, trying to get free, like a wild animal trapped in a cage.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” She vows.

I had no doubt if she could, she’d serve my balls on a plate and force them down my throat.

“Where is my son!?” She demands, eyes burning with hate and rage.

I cup her chin, keeping my fingers from her teeth, “He is safe.”

“Give him back!” She orders, “Right now.”

“I can’t do that,leonessa,”

She curls her lip back, “I am going to kill you.”

“I’m sure you’d like to.”

“Who are you!?”

“My name is Gabriel Saint.”

She blanches.

So, she understood where she was then. Who the father of her son was. Lucas had kept her and the boy a secret and I wanted to know why.

“Explain your relationship with my brother.” I demand.

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