BAD SAINT (All the Pretty Things #1)

One-4

I dare not breathe.

The blood whooshes through my ears, and my heart races in a deafening staccato as he removes the gag from my mouth. He is poised by me, ready to put it back in if I go back on my word. I don’t…for now.

The moment it’s out, I gulp in mouthfuls of air to replenish my depleted lungs. I instantly get dizzy as it’s too much, too fast. Steadying my breathing, I calm the storm within.

When I stop wheezing, I peer upward at Saint. “Th-thank you.” My mouth is dry, and my voice hoarse, so it takes me three attempts to speak. He nods once, arms folded, but other than that, he makes no attempts to move or talk.

Visions of him dropping to one knee and punishing Drew with his fists overwhelm me, but I swallow down my fear. “I need to use the bathroom.”

It’s the oldest trick in the book, but I’m certain that door leads to a bathroom, a bathroom which will hopefully have a window. As far as plans go, it’s weak and will probably get me killed, but I’d prefer that option to awaiting my doom.

Saint’s chest rises before it depresses with a loud exhale. “Please, I know you’re not like the others,” I say in a rushed breath. “You tried to help me earlier.”

“You know nothing,” he growls, shaking his head firmly.

Recoiling, I quickly backtrack. “My name is Willow, Willow Shaw.” By telling him my name, I’m hopefully allowing him to see that I’m a person and not a thing.

“Stop talking.” He swoops forward, intent on gagging me again, but tears, ugly tears break past the floodgates.

“Please d-don’t gag m-me.” My lower lip quivers as the thought of it turns my stomach.

“You talk too much,” he counters as though gagging me is the acceptable solution.

“I know. I’m s-sorry. But I’m sc-scared. What are you going to do with m-me?” I whisper, afraid of his reply but needing to hear it anyway.

Thankfully, he stops his advance and doesn’t gag me for the time being. There is so much behind those vivid eyes. He is wrestling with his decision once again. “I’m going to untie you so you can use the bathroom. You go with the door open.”

I nod eagerly.

Sighing, he yanks a thin silver chain from under his shirt, and I see a key dangling from the end. I have the sudden urge to draw back when he steps forward because his presence commands attention, but I remain utterly still as he bends low and reaches behind me.

My breathing is heavy, and being this close to him intensifies his fragrance. His fingers on my skin have me breaking out into goose bumps. He works deftly as he slips the key into the cuffs and unlocks them.

I instantly drop my hands by my side and roll my shoulders to get the feeling back into my arms. I clench and relax my hands until the circulation begins to flow.

He pulls away slowly, stopping when our faces are mere inches apart. An intake of breath gets trapped in my throat, but I peer up, challenging him to do his best.

Our pants fill the air as we examine each other carefully. My proximity appears to affect him, causing his pupils to dilate, and I gasp. His eyes dart to my heaving chest before they snap back up to meet my terrified ones.

He reaches behind him with an unhurried speed, and when the full moon peeking in from the window reflects off the silver from the blade he holds, I whimper, but I don’t move. This is a test, and I pass with flying colors as he drops to his knees, eyes still locked with mine, and he cuts through the rope around my ankles.

He is feral and in command, but I don’t feel threatened. Lord knows I should, but I’m not because I know that using my looks for evil has bought me some time. He likes what he sees, which is maybe why he skims his finger over my silver anklet before he stands and pockets his switchblade. If I wasn’t paying attention, I would have missed it or played it off as an accidental touch. But I know there is no such thing.

I’m free, but I suddenly have never felt more imprisoned than I do right now.

He’s waiting for me to make my next move. Again, another test.

I rise cautiously as I have no doubt I will be lightheaded. The blood whooshes through my body, but I find my center of gravity and stay upright. Placing my arms out wide, I balance myself, inhaling and exhaling slowly.

The decking feels cold beneath my feet, but I commence a slow stagger toward the bathroom. My steps are sluggish with the pins and needles feeling in my legs, but I make sure not to touch Saint as I stumble past him. He inhales through his nose.

When the bathroom is within reach, I open the door, never feeling more relieved. However, seeing the small window above the toilet pleases me more. I do as he says and leave the door open as I shuffle into the tiny space. There is only enough room for a toilet, a tiny shower, and a sink, but it’ll do.

I watch him, arching a brow, hinting for some privacy.

With arms folded, he turns slowly, showing me his back.

Not wanting to alert him to my plan, I shyly reach under my skirt to pull down my underwear and quickly sit onto the toilet. I have to go, but with him standing there, my bladder gets stage fright.

“What’s taking so long?” he asks when there is silence.

My cheeks turn a beet red. “I can’t…pee with you standing there.”

“Either you go with me here, or you don’t go at all. Take your pick.”

Narrowing my eyes, I plot the ways to make him pay for being such an asshole, then decide to hum under my breath so I can pee under the cloak of music. It works. I don’t even know what I’m humming to, but it doesn’t matter because once I’m done, I’m going to slam this door shut and attempt to get the f**k off this boat.

Craning my neck, I see that the window has a latch. It’s unlocked. It’s small, but I’ll be able to squeeze through. Once I’m done, I reach for some toilet paper, my gaze floating between Saint and the window.

I flush and decide to wash my hands as that’ll give me more time for him to lower his guard. When I peer into the square mirror above the sink, I gasp as my reflection resembles something out of a horror movie.

Coagulated blood sticks to my matted hair in clumps. Crimson paints my cheeks, with rivets of dried tears cascading all the way down my chin. My mouth looks swollen and my eyes puffy. So much for using my looks because the only look I’m rocking right now is s**t.

The reason that is zaps through my veins, and a surge of adrenaline overthrows me. It’s now or never. Ensuring his back is still turned, I take a deep breath. And then another.

With the water still running, I lunge for the door and lock it, taking back my life. I only have seconds before he’s breaking down the flimsy door. My heart is in my throat as I climb onto the toilet, and with fumbling fingers, I unlatch the window.

When it pops open, I don’t have time to celebrate as I frantically boost myself up and wiggle my body through the hole. I can taste my freedom as I’m almost through, but it’s the last time I will taste it on my tongue because before I know it, I hear an ear-splitting crash and am being hauled backward violently.

“No!” I scream, flailing like a madwoman as I kick my legs. But it’s in vain. “Let me go!”

Saint jerks me back, wrapping his hands around my waist as I clutch onto the frame of the window, holding on for dear life. He is so strong, and eventually, I cave, afraid he’ll rip me into two.

“No.” I sob as he throws me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing at all. I pound on his back, thrashing to break free, but he only tightens his hold. When he twists, and I’m able to reach his side, I go on instinct and bite down—hard.

He grunts as my bite clearly stung, but when he rips free from my teeth, I know I’ve just made things so much worse. He is furious. His hulking body trembles in rage as he storms through the boat and slams me to my feet. I attempt to run, but he grabs me by the throat and shoves me backward. My back hits a support pole, and I gasp for breath.

“You want to act like a dog, I’ll treat you like one.”

“Please,” I beg, tears and spittle running down my face. But he doesn’t listen.

With his fingers still clutched around my throat, he reaches for a length of rope and forces my hands behind my back. With the rope, he then viciously ties it around my arms, just under my breasts, so I’m bound to the pole.

“You don’t have to do this,” I plead, but he’s so angry, he won’t listen to a word I have to say.

When he drops to his knees and forces my legs shut so he can tie them to the pole also, my fight dies, and I begin to weep. By the time he’s bound my ankles, tiny snivels wrack my body. I’m bound to the pole by my arms, legs, and feet. I’m not going anywhere.

Yet what scares me the most is how he won’t look at me.

“Saint…” It’s too late to take it back.

His head snaps up, and he launches off the floor, roaring into my face, “How do you know my name?”

“I-I…” I fumble over my words, his once smooth, chartreuse-colored eyes now a flaming amber.

“Tell me!” he yells, his breath fanning the hair from my cheeks.

“I h-heard one of the men call y-you th-that. I’m so-sorry.” I am gasping for breath because my fear is robbing me of air.

“Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness because I am far crueler than those two upstairs,” he growls, cupping my throat once again. Swallowing hard, I bow backward in an attempt to escape, but I have nowhere to go. “I have a lot more to lose than they do, so don’t force me to hurt you.”

He releases me, and I sag forward, sobbing. I have never felt more defeated in my life.

When he reaches for a roll of duct tape, I whimper. “Pl-please do-don’t gag m-me. I can’t st-stand it. Pl-please.”

My pleas go unheard as he stretches out a length and is about to fasten it to my lips. It’s my last chance. “Please, Saint, d-don’t…” I don’t even care what he does to me for using his name. I’m dead anyway.

I brace for the suffocation, squeezing my eyes shut, but I don’t get it. I get nothing.

“f**k!” he roars before I hear something smash. He’s going to kill me; I’m sure of it. But when I hear his heavy boots pound along the floor and up the stairs, slamming the hatch closed, it appears I’m not sure of anything at all.

My heavy eyelids open, and I take in my surroundings. He’s gone. I’m still tied to a pole, but he’s gone. The smash I heard was the duct tape being hurled against the wall, shattering a glass in the process.

I have no idea why he didn’t gag me. The fact I used his name was enough of a reason to. But he didn’t, and I need to know why.

But for now, I surrender to the exhaustion, anticipating what day two holds.