BAD SAINT (All the Pretty Things #1)

Six-1

This fearless creature utterly fascinates me. She is far braver than anyone I’ve ever met, and I find myself wanting to know more about her. My methods have never failed me in the past. I am Popov’s best. So why can’t I break her the way I want to? And why can I only find satisfaction when she’s near? This obsession of mine must end.

It will only lead to trouble.

Day 8MEMORIES OF LAST night assault me, and when I smell Saint’s cologne, it only brings home the truth that I witnessed him having s*x with some woman, and then he threw her out at my request. But her admission still plays over and over in my mind.

What does it mean?

I’ve been staring at the ceiling for hours, refusing to look elsewhere because Saint sleeps on the opposite sofa. He obviously passed out last night.

I have so many questions, and they all begin with why.

Even though I didn’t see much, it seems to somehow make what I witnessed so much worse. I’ve been speculating all morning, and my mind has had no issues adding lib. I saw him without his ski mask, and even though I couldn’t get a clear picture of what he looks like, what I did see has me spellbound.

I don’t understand him or his motives. I want nothing more than to ask him why, but I have a feeling he’s doing this to prepare me for a world I’m not accustomed to. In no way am I making excuses for his actions, but no matter how hard I try to hate him, I can’t shake the feeling he’s just as trapped as I am.

“Hey.” His raspy voice snaps me from my thoughts.

The silent treatment now seems obsolete, considering everything I saw. “Hi.”

An awkwardness lingers like one would expect for the morning-after talk. Even though we didn’t have s*x, I did witness him screwing someone else, so I guess in a way, the awkwardness is warranted.

I have no idea what comes next. I can only hope we get a new means of transport because this one has been tainted by the shrill screams of last night.

“I’m going to shower.”

As I jump up, Saint does too. He must have put his ski mask back on during the night, which angers me that some random bimbo can see his face, but I can’t. I cast my gaze downward, unsure of what he wants. I also don’t want to look at him after last night.

“Are you hungry?”

I shake my head, hiding behind my hair.

“You have to eat,” he says, walking forward. When he’s within reach, he places his finger under my chin, coaxing me to look at him.

I eventually do.

The green to his eyes is so bright, I gasp as the color is stunning. However, they soon flicker a furious black. I don’t know what’s wrong, and on instinct, I drop to my knees, kneeling. It was an automatic response, and I shock myself at how quickly I was to obey.

“What did you do to yourself?” he asks, taking a step back.

I don’t understand what he means.

Fear assails me, and my lower lip quivers. “I didn’t do anything,” I reply, puzzled. But he soon proves me to be a liar.

He marches forward and cups my chin, arching my head back to expose my neck. When he strokes over my throat, I know he’s seen the rope mark. I was careless not to be more careful. “That’s the coward’s way out, and you’re not a coward.”

“How do you know?” I challenge, but my bravado soon dies when he tightens his hold around my chin.

“Because I’ve known you for eight days. And every single one of those eight days, you’ve disobeyed me, defied me, and attempted to escape, regardless of the consequences. If that doesn’t take courage, then I don’t know what does.”

I gasp, stunned by his candor.

“Let me go,” I whimper. Even though I know the answer, I still have to try. “Please.”

The air is crackling with a live current, and when Saint rubs his thumb over my lower lip, everything around us detonates. My heart is thrashing wildly. I’m on my knees, peering up at my captor, unsure what this gentle touch means.

“Don’t ask things you know the answer to,” he softly replies.

“I’ll never stop asking that, regardless if I know the answer.”

I’m toeing a very dangerous line, but something is different in the way his thumb seems mesmerized by my lip. His eyes focus on my mouth as he caresses up and down. This is new. Up until now, his touch has never been filled with…hunger.

Another hunger smashes into me then—the one of the woman who Saint was buried in—and I instantly turn my cheek, averting my gaze. I don’t want him touching me after his hands and other parts have stroked her.

“Tonight, we board a new boat,” he reveals while I hold my breath. “I have a few things to take care of today, but I’ll be back when it’s dark.”

“Can I go upstairs?” I ask even though it’s in vain.

Saint sighs. “No, you can’t. It’s too risky.”

“Risky for whom?” I challenge.

He takes his time to reply. “For the both of us.”

There is no point in arguing.

The air is thick as I await his next move. “Behave, Aнгел. I’ll be back later.”

I refrain from saluting him and simply nod.

I’m expecting him to leave, but he surprises me once again when he brushes the hair from my cheeks so he can see me. My eyes are still lowered, but I can feel him examine every inch of my face. He runs his thumb over the apple of my cheek while I dare not breathe.

Eventually, he retreats and leaves me alone to question what the hell is going on. Once the hatch closes, I bow forward and take three calming breaths, though it does nothing to settle my frantic heart.

I feel like I’m on a merry-go-round as the world is spinning, but I want to get off. I want to forget Saint’s gentle touches because each act of kindness shakes everything up beyond repair.

I don’t know what’s worse—Saint’s punishment or Saint’s rewards. His bipolar behavior leaves me constantly questioning which version I’ll get, and honestly, I don’t know which I like best.

When the room stops turning, I slowly come to a stand. I have all day to kill as I’m once again confined to my cage. I decide to shower and then sit by the window and watch the world pass me by.

As I undress, my gaze floats to the wall in which Saint used as his makeshift f*****g post. I cringe as I hate the term as well as what he did. I know he did it to teach me a lesson, to display that my fate is in his hands, and in the end, he will always win.

He broke me, didn’t he? I ended up speaking.

He tried to be “nice,” but when that didn’t work, he resorted to measures he knew were out of my comfort zone. He’s aware that I’m a virgin, and seeing him screw someone else was a sure way for me to break.

The sound of his flesh pressed against hers assaults me, and I instantly shake my head to dispel such wickedness. I need to focus on other matters—like escaping, and this time…nothing and no one will stand in my way.

It’s dark out—a sight I’ve craved all day.

I spent my time devising ways I can make a run for it tonight, but sadly, I don’t even know what I’m walking into. I will have to use my smarts and think on my toes because I know my window of opportunity will be small.

Most of the vendors have gone for the day, but a few fishermen are still working on their boats. I don’t speak their language, so I can only hope me running for my life while screaming for help is understood universally.

When the hatch opens, I know it’s now or never.

I watch as Saint descends the stairs, arching a brow when I notice a brown robe in his hand. “Here, put this on,” he orders, offering me the garment. The material feels soft and light. When I unravel it, I see that it will cover me from head to toe.

I feel awful putting this on, as I’m probably offending many by wearing something which is sacred to certain religions, but I knew Saint wouldn’t allow me to roam the streets exposed. I’m wearing shorts and a tank, so I quickly slip into the oversized robe and place the niqab over my head. I adjust it so the only part of me showing is my eyes.

Saint watches me, nodding when I’m dressed.

The temperature down here is already stifling, so being covered this way has me instantly breaking out into a sweat. It’s quite disconcerting to view the world this way— a sliver at a time. But I suppose both Saint and I now have the same viewpoint.

“Our new boat is a few yards away. Kazimir will bring your clothes and other supplies. You are not to move from my side. Are we clear?” he cautions.

When I remain quiet, he steps forward. His presence is suffocating. “I asked you a question.”

We’re on equal ground seeing as he can’t read me as well as he once could. The only clue he has to what I’m thinking is my eyes, which is the only thing I’ve had for the past eight days. “Yes, we’re clear,” I finally reply, crossing my fingers beneath my robe.

The apprehension rolls off his broad shoulders as he watches me carefully, but he has no other choice but to trust me. He gestures with his head to head upstairs. The moment of truth has arrived.

Taking one last look at what was my prison for the past eight days, I march up the stairs but suddenly come to a standstill on the top step, wishing I wasn’t covered. I’d give anything to feel the fresh air on my skin. I tilt my chin upward, peering into the starless sky, and beg the universe shows me mercy.

Please give me the strength to do this.

But Saint clearly doesn’t have any time for sentiments as he nudges me from behind, hinting I’m to keep moving.

When I’m up on the deck, I see Kazimir and the other Russian. The hair on the back of my neck instantly prickles as I get a foreboding sense that something awful lingers around the corner. “Kazimir, go downstairs and get everything.”

Kazimir’s glower is directed my way, and I immediately avert my gaze, terrified. “Luka called. There’s been a mix-up with the boat.”

“What?” Saint spits, as this clearly wasn’t part of the plans. “That’s impossible. I just spoke to him.”

“He just called. Two minutes ago. Go see Mohammed now.”

“f**k,” Saint curses under his breath. “Stay here. I’ll be back soon.”

My heart begins to race. “Take me with you,” I plead, not wanting to be left alone with Kazimir. I latch onto his arm, hoping he sees reason, but then quickly shrink back when he makes it clear that touching him is forbidden.

Saint appears stunned by my request as his gaze flicks back and forth between Kazimir and me. “I won’t be long,” he promises, affirming I’m staying put. There is no point in arguing, so I can only hope he’s right.

He expresses something to both men in Russian, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was giving them a warning. He gives me one last look, before jumping from the yacht and hurrying down the dock.

When he’s no longer in sight, the need to flee overcomes me because I know my life is in danger. But it’s too late. Kazimir storms forward, gripping my bicep firmly and drawing my face to his. There is fire behind his soulless eyes. “Now’s your chance to run,” he says, which was not what I was expecting.

“What?” I question, licking my dry lips.

He responds by sweeping his hand outward, hinting I’m free to go. But I’m not stupid. Nothing in this world is free. “No.” I shake my head. “He told me to stay here.”

“Well, I tell you to go.”

Before I know what’s happening, the other Russian steps forward and punches Kazimir in the face— once, twice. I almost sigh in relief, but it’s too good to be true to believe he’s come to my rescue. They’re both in on whatever scheme they’re plotting when they laugh and exchange animated words in Russian.

Just as I’m about to question what the hell is going on, Kazimir yanks me forward and drags me toward the dock. My shoulder pops, and I yelp. “Let me go!” I shriek, attempting to pry myself free, but that isn’t an option. “Help!”