BAD SAINT (All the Pretty Things #1)

Thirteen-5

“When I came back bloody and bruised but holding that bag of money, Popov saw more value in me alive than he did dead. No doubt, the drug drop was yet another test, one that I passed. So from that day on, Popov made me his personal…security.” Nothing but sarcasm laces his statement as it’s clear security is the code word for what he was forced to become.

“I agreed, thinking that when I finally saw Zoey, we would get the f**k out of Dodge. But when he finally allowed me to see her…” He pauses, needing a moment. “It was apparent that wasn’t happening.”

“Why not?” I’m almost afraid to ask.

“Because the person standing before me wasn’t my Zoey. She had changed because Popov had broken her. He had broken her spirit, her soul.” The moonlight accentuates the shine to his eyes. “She was hooked on whatever drugs he fed her. She was his slave and a slave to whatever she snorted or injected. She was his personal zombie to do whatever he pleased.”

Nausea rises, and I cover my mouth to stop from being sick.

“Most days, she sat by his feet while he patted her head. And other times…” He squeezes his eyes shut, before opening them.

There is no need for him to elaborate. I can fill in the blanks.

“So I worked for Popov. I did his dirty work in hopes that one day, he would get sick of Zoey and let her go. The times when she was sober, small glimmers of the spirited sister I once knew would shine, but she’s broken, Willow, and it’s all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, Saint,” I press, storming forward, clutching his hand. But he rips from my hold, not wanting my sympathy.

“Yes, it is. I should have asked if she was all right when she called. I was so caught up in my life that I didn’t even think to ask if she was okay. I could have stopped all of this from happening.”

I can see why he would blame himself, but we don’t have a crystal ball. No one can predict the future. We all make choices, and those choices come with consequences.

“She was Popov’s любимый. His favorite. His pet,” he explains. “And in her own warped way, I think she believes he loves her. So for two and a half years, I’ve watched my sister be treated like nothing but a dog. I’ve wanted to escape with her so many times, but he’s brainwashed her. She believes she can’t live without him. She keeps going back to him, no matter how many times I set her free because that’s what he does. He is the most potent drug of all.”

“What about your parents?”

Saint casts his gaze downward. “I’ve saved them as much heartache as I can. I’ve told them that we’re okay and that we’ve made a new life in Russia. But we will be back. One day. I can’t go back home. I can’t look in my mom’s eyes after everything I’ve done. And I won’t go back home until Zoey is with me. I won’t leave her. Not again.”

My heart breaks for this family. One man has destroyed the lives of so many—the man who is set on shaping my future like Zoey’s.

“Popov is growing bored with Zoey. I’m surprised he’s kept her for as long as he has. But I’m not stupid. I know it’s because of me. I’m good at what I do because I have so much pent-up anger within me.” He makes a tight fist on his chest over his heart. “Each person I kill, they wear Popov’s face, and they bring me one step closer to bringing my sister home.”

A tear rolls down my cheek, but Saint steps forward and wipes it away.

“Your husband,” he spits, curling his lip in disgust. “He was my out. When he made that deal with Popov, I knew it was because Popov wanted a new pet. Zoey knew it too. After two and a half years, I finally saw my sister. She begged to go home. She begged me to do what Popov wanted, and in return, Popov promised to set me and my sister free. The conditions were simple—you were to take the place of Zoey. You were to be Popov’s new pet.”

I always knew this was my fate, but now, it means something else.

“So I told Popov I would do it. I would bring you to him. My conditions were that this was the last thing I would ever do for him. And that he would send Zoey to rehab. He agreed. And I believed him because he knew that I was at the end of my tether, and it was only a matter of time before I snapped.”

“How can you believe he’d let you go?” I ask as Popov hardly strikes me as an upstanding citizen.

“Popov does hold some honor among his men, and he will let me go. I have served him well, and in return, he will allow me to leave with my head intact.”

“What about your soul?” I whisper because the things he’s been forced to do change a man.

“That was sold long ago,” he replies desolately.

This is too much. I need a minute.

“I understand if you want nothing to do with me. I never should have agreed. I was just so desperate to get Zoey home, and I was running out of options. I should have told your husband and Popov to both go to hell. I should have taken Zoey home years ago,” he says, his words heavy with regret.

The mention of Drew has my finger suddenly feeling like it weighs a thousand pounds. Peering down at my ring, it cements my stupidity for wearing it for as long as I have. Without thought, I brush past Saint and make my way toward the water. There is something I have to do.

When I enter the water, the coolness sends a shiver down my spine. Something about the water is cathartic. I suppose it’s because it’s our life source. It has the ability to baptize and cleanse, which is why I remove the ring from my finger and hurl it along with my regrets into the ocean.

The moment it leaves my hand, tears stream down my cheeks. There are so many players in this equation, all of which have played a part in my future. I don’t know what comes next. Everything has changed.

If Saint lets me go, it will ensure his death, as well as Zoey’s. But if he sticks to the plan, then it will ensure mine. This was never clear cut, but now, everything is a f*****g mess.

Saint stands beside me, allowing me the space I need. But I don’t want space. I want to forget. With a hesitant touch, I reach for his hand and am surprised when he links his fingers through mine. We don’t speak. We stand in waist-deep water, peering up into the star-filled sky, wondering what tomorrow holds.

“I’m sorry, ahгел.”

I now understand why he calls me angel. I was supposed to save him. An angel and her bad Saint.

“Make me forget,” I whisper, turning toward him, not masking my tears.

His brow scrunches in uncertainty, but I clear up any confusion when I close the distance between us and press my lips to his.

He freezes as he still isn’t comfortable with me touching him, but after a few seconds, he grows lax and allows me control.

The gesture unleashes everything bottled up within me, and I coax his mouth open with my tongue. He groans low and surrenders. We slam our bodies together, frantically pawing at each other. He lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist.

We kiss like starved fiends, the passion between us setting every part of my body alight. I yank at his hair, and he bites my lip. Our tongues clash together, forgetting everything but this electric potency between us.

I want him all over me, and when I feel his delicious erection pressed against me, I know he wants that too. Tearing my mouth away, I kiss my way down his throat, inhaling deeply because he smells so good. His racing pulse hammers beneath me, and without thought, I bite down and suck—hard.

A raucous moan leaves him as he tilts his head backward, allowing me free rein. I lick and bite, latching onto him and feasting on his flesh. All bashfulness is gone when I rock against his hard-on, hinting at what I want. What I need.

He reads my body perfectly and walks us back toward the shore with me kissing and devouring him whole. He lowers us to the sand, our lips never missing a beat. Still kissing frantically, he thrusts his hand into my shorts and sinks a finger into my s*x.

I gasp, breaking our kiss as I need to breathe before I pass out.

He finds me wet, and that has nothing to do with the water. “Oh, f**k,” he hums, licking his bottom lip, his eyes slipping to half-mast. I shamefully arch into him, deepening the angle. We both hiss at the profound intrusion.

Everything is happening so fast, but I don’t fight it. He works my body into a frenzy until I’m panting, clawing at his slick shoulders, begging to come. He’s all over me, his lips, hands, his bare chest pressed to mine. But I suddenly want more.

I’ve never felt such a strong desire before, and the need for him to be my first collides into me. But I don’t know how to ask, so I decide to let my actions speak for me.

With his fingers buried deep within me and our lips locked urgently, I timidly brush over the bulge in the front of his shorts. When I feel how hard he is, my s*x pulses. I am so turned on. I unsnap his button, and with fumbling fingers, I slip my hand into his shorts.

He isn’t wearing any underwear, so I touch his hot, hard length instantly. He rips his lips away, pressing his forehead to my shoulder as he hums low. I’m all thumbs because I’ve never touched someone of his size before. I take my time feeling him because each stroke has us both moaning fervidly.

“Show me what to do?” I whisper, embarrassed.

“What you’re doing right now feels incredible,” he encourages, pumping into my grip.

He circles my c**t. I mimic the action and trace around his thick tip. If possible, he grows bigger in my hand.

“I need you naked.” He doesn’t give me a chance to reply because he’s yanking off my shorts and tank. My bra soon follows.

He caresses my breasts before lowering his head and suckling them with his lips and tongue. I am a soft mess, but a tight coil unravels inside. He circles my n*****s, sucking them, before biting them softly. He sinks two fingers back inside me, all the while lapping at my breasts. I think I’m about to die.

“More,” I pant, yanking his hair, my body undulating with his touch.

He attempts to slide down, but I clutch his cheeks, dragging his face to mine. His uncertainty isn’t a sight I see too often, so it makes what I’m about to ask a little easier. “No, I want you…inside me.”

His eyes widen before he gently brushes the hair from my cheeks. “Not here,” he says, which leaves me speechless.

“You don’t want to?” I can’t help but feel a little rejected.

“Of course, I do.” He grabs my hand and places it over the front of his shorts. The evidence doesn’t lie. So what’s the problem? “Just not here. Not now.”

This is hardly the place where I’d choose to lose my virginity, but with Saint pressed to me, it feels perfect. “If what you said is true and Popov is coming, then I don’t want my first time to be with someone like him. I want it to be with you,” I confess shyly, stroking over his hard-on.