FALLEN SAINT (All the Pretty Things #2)

One-2

The rest of the men stand motionless, ignoring Diak’s cries for help as he drops to his knees. Saint acts as cool as cool can be when he jerks me forward to pick up the gun. I do as he proposes, the hard metal feeling like utter power beneath my fingers.

When the men’s eyes widen, the whites to their eyes revealing their fear, it’s an aphrodisiac. I should be afraid, but I’m not. Am I desensitized to such violence? I could pull the trigger and kill them all. But Saint clucks his tongue, hinting we choose our battles wisely.

I pass him the gun, which he slips in the small of his back.

“What happened to Kazimir?” Adrian asks, and when I take a closer look, I see the resemblance. A younger brother maybe?

Saint deadpans him. “That happened.” He gestures with his head toward a howling Diak cradling his wrist as blood gushes from his nose. “But a lot bloodier. And a lot more dead.”

Adrian’s jaw clenches while the room falls silent.

“If anyone else has any other questions, now is the time to speak up.” No one dares to utter a word. “I didn’t think so.” Saint drags me toward the bathroom, leaving the men to clean up his mess. I want to shrug from his hold because he’s hurting me, but I know better.

He almost rips the door from its hinges as he opens it and shoves me inside. When the door slams shut, he finally releases me. If I wasn’t being held against my will and fearing for my life, I would admire how spacious it is in here.

Besides a large glass shower and a bathtub, black marble covers as far as the eye can see. Everything gleams within an inch of its life. No expense was spared as everything down here allows me to shower in comfort. Nothing but the best for Alek it seems.

Saint’s harsh breathing snaps me back to the now, and I turn around slowly. He’s propped against the wall, clutching his shoulder, his snarled hair hanging around his face. Now that we’re alone, the severity of where we are hits me, and it appears I’m not desensitized after all.

Tears well, but I bite my cheek to stop them from falling. Saint lifts his eyes to meet mine, but I can’t read what he’s thinking. The room turns explosive.

“You silly, stubborn girl,” he chides, shaking his head slowly. “You should have done what I said.” What he said was for me to run and hide—for me to be a coward—but I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave him to deal with this on his own. I don’t know what that says for me and my sanity, but I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I did.

“It doesn’t matter now,” I say, brushing the matted hair from my cheeks, trying to be brave.

“Of course, it matters!” Before I have a chance to reply, he storms over, gripping the back of my neck and pressing us brow to brow. “I’m sorry if I was rough with you, but I had to be. I can’t show weakness when it comes to you because you’ll pay the price if I do.”

The feel of his hands on me is indescribable. “What are we going to do?” I whisper, rubbing my nose against his.

He inhales deeply, and this close to him, I can almost forget our troubles. When we’re this way, nothing else matters. “I don’t know yet. I have to talk to Popov and figure out his game plan. He knows something is going on between us.”

His admission has me drawing back to look him dead in the eye. “And what’s that?” I don’t even know what this is between us. I never have. Maybe he can explain it to me.

But when he shakes his head, it seems he’s just as confused as I am.

“Just trust me, ангел.”

Closing my eyes briefly, I savor the way the nickname rolls from his tongue. I can almost forget the way it sounded when Popov spoke it.

“I may have to do some things you won’t like.”

“Like what?” My heart begins to race.

“I just need you to trust me,” he repeats, squeezing my nape softly.

With a hesitant touch, I place my hand over his, threading our fingers together. When he doesn’t shy away, I sigh in relief. “Okay. I trust you.”

We stay this way, both needing a moment to center and prepare ourselves for what’s ahead. “Go shower. I’ll take this bullet out.”

The mention of his injury has me pulling away, attempting to tend to his wound. But Saint presses his hand over mine, right over the bullet hole, and simply stares at me. Who knew a look could convey a thousand words?

On instinct, my gaze drops to his lips. I want to kiss him. So badly. I want to stop feeling this constant fear and just lose myself in something that isn’t swathed in darkness and gloom. But Saint releases me, putting an end to that train of thoughts.

“I wasn’t lying when I said it’s just a flesh wound. I can manage.”

With a deep sigh, I know there is no point in pressing because he’s made up his mind.

He goes on the hunt for a first-aid kit while I decide the thought of taking a real shower after all this time is too incredible to pass up. Without hesitation, I slip the green dress over my head and reach around my back to unhook my bra.

When it falls to the floor, I slip my thumbs into the waistband of my underwear but pause when I realize Saint is watching me. He’s found a first-aid kit, but his bullet wound seems the least of his worries as he stands unmoving, focusing his animated eyes on my body.

My n*****s instantly pearl, and my breasts tighten.

He places the kit on the counter, then walks over to me at a languid pace as his gaze peruses every inch of my skin. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to touch you again.” He places his palm against the side of my neck, cupping it gently. “And it kills me inside.”

I’m too afraid to move because if I do, I will smash my lips to his and beg he consume me while we have the chance.

“I want you, ангел.” He slides his hand down my throat and it comes to rest on my chest over my heart.

My knees buckle, and my s*x clenches. His overwhelming honesty leaves me at a loss for words.

“I haven’t wanted anything more in my life. But no matter how much I want you.” There’s always a but. “I won’t drag you into this mess. I will get you out of here. I promise.”

He can feel the thrashing of my heart under his palm. “What about you?” I’m not stupid. The likelihood of us both getting out of this unscathed seems impossible.

He smirks something wicked, causing my chest to heave as I’m suddenly short of breath. “You let me worry about me.”

“Saint…” But all conversation ends when he leans forward and suckles over my thundering pulse.

“I want to mark you. Like a f*****g caveman, I want to rub my scent all over you.”

My eyes roll to the back of my head because him rubbing me anywhere sounds like a brilliant idea. He’s doing this to distract me, and it almost works.

“You have a gun. You’re a good shot.”

He hums against the column of my throat, sending an electrical current all the way to my toes. “Too much is at stake.”

“What could possibly mean more to you than your life? Your freedom?” I question, refusing to surrender to the glide of his lips.

Saint kisses downward, licking a path from my neck to the top of my breasts. I arch into him, looping my fingers through his mussed hair and moaning softly. When he takes a n****e into his mouth, I see stars. But I persevere.

“Tell me.”

He circles my areola, sucking my breast with a desperate hunger.

As far as distractions go, this is absolutely amazing, but I need to know what he has planned. Does he still intend to save Zoey? And if so, how, seeing as I was the bargaining chip?

But when my n****e pops free and Saint walks us backward until my ass hits the basin, I suddenly wish I’d kept my mouth shut because his reply changes everything.

“You.”

My mouth hangs open as I’m at a loss for words. A simple word has just changed the course of it all.

I want to say so many things, but Saint presses a kiss to my cheek, then reaches for the kit, leaving me a wanton, needy mess.

When he opens the kit and yanks out a pair of scissors, I pale and make my way to the shower. Slipping out of my underwear, I turn on the faucets and stand under the warm spray. I’ve dreamed about this moment for weeks, but it suddenly falls short of my expectations because I’m distracted.

What happens next? But most importantly, what will I do to ensure Saint and I get off this boat together? As I remember his touches and get lost in his words, I know that I will do anything. Anything at all.

Even sell my soul…to the devil himself.

I’ve procrastinated long enough. It’s time to face the inevitable.

Once Saint removed the bullet and bandaged himself up, he said he was going to talk to Aleksei. I wanted to go with him, but I know they have much to discuss. Alone.

I understand Saint and I will have to be careful, knowing Aleksei will use whatever this thing is between us as leverage. Just as he used Zoey as collateral to Saint.

When Saint protected me on the island by standing in front of me when Zoey pointed her gun, he no doubt clued Aleksei in. But knowing Saint, he will play it off as something else. We both have to watch our backs. Not only from Aleksei but also Zoey. She is a loaded gun, and I’m afraid of what she’ll do next.

A banging on the door alerts me that my time is up.

I found a change of clothes on the marble counter when I exited the shower. The fiery red dress seems a little inappropriate, but I needed something to cover the barely there lace underwear set accompanying it.

Having everything in my size creeps me out, as it means Aleksei was preparing for my “homecoming.” I wonder what else he has in store for me.

When the thumping sounds once again, I look in the mirror and take three calming breaths. I raided the drawers for a weapon, but all I found were toiletries and the makeup I used to keep from resembling the living dead.

However, I remember the scissors in the first-aid kit and quickly lunge for them. Without much choice on where to stash them, I lift the hem of my dress and tuck them into the waistband of my underwear. Even though it’s not ideal, having them gives me a sense of security. No matter how false that may be.

Just as I’m straightening my dress, the door bursts open, and one of Aleksei’s men appears. He seems disappointed when I brush past him. I think he expected a fight or for me to be lying in a pool of my own blood.

Putting my game face on, I walk out into the dining area, ignoring the glares from Aleksei’s goons. When I don’t see Saint anywhere in sight, I decide to go up onto the upper deck to find him. But Adrian has other ideas when he blocks my path.

“Boss said you stay down here.”