Wicked Saint: Sinners and Saints Book 1

by Eden, Veronica

  I grab my bag and shift away from the cooler before the vultures swoop in. The sky is really pretty right now, so I stroll to the end of the dock and sit down. Pulling my phone out, I take a few shots of the beautiful scenery.

  I pick one out, edit it, and post it to Instagram with the caption peaceful views tonight along with a handful of hashtags. A few likes pop up.

  This is nicer. I don’t mind the raucous laughs and chatter over the music wafting in the air from a safe distance behind me as I sit alone.

  It only lasts a short time before Lucas drops beside me.

  “The party’s back there.”

  “Not really my scene.” I wet my lips and rub my palms against my knees. “Parties and I don’t exactly have a great track record. I’ll probably catch a ride home with Alec when he’s ready to leave.”

  Lucas frowns and peers out at the lake. It reflects the purple and pink tones of the sky and the black silhouette of the trees and peaks.

  “Don’t leave yet.” Lucas props his arm on his bent knee and rubs his chin. He gives me a sidelong glance. “Come out on the boat.”

  “The boat?”

  “Yeah. Just you, me, and Lancelot.”

  At my confused look he lets out a short laugh and whistles. The pug dog’s nails clack against the dock as he bounds over with an adorable bark that sounds more like bork.

  Lucas points at the dog leaning into his face, snuffling and licking his chin. “Lancelot.”

  That’s adorable. My stomach unknots from the anxiety-induced cramps.

  “Lancelot. Well, sir knight,” I address the dog, giving him a scratch that makes him warble and wiggle his butt, “I suppose I can agree to a ride on your steed. Er, ship? What did knights call their boats?”

  Lucas shrugs, chuckling. He watches me through his lashes, mouth pulled up in a lopsided curve. It’s an unfairly handsome look on him.

  “I don’t really know. My Arthurian legend obsession only lasted long enough for me to name my dog.”

  “It’s a good name.”

  “Come on.”

  Lucas climbs to his feet and offers me a hand up. Air catches in my throat when I look up at him, back-lit by the golden rays of sunset that catch his hair. I allow him to haul me up.

  “Going out for a ride,” Lucas calls to the group as he leads me into the boathouse.

  The boat is beautiful, a cream color with tan cushion seats and chrome detailing. The steering wheel at the front is wrapped in white leather, surrounded by gleaming controls.

  Lancelot jumps aboard after Lucas like they’ve done this a thousand times. As Lucas starts the engine, I glance back at the dock.

  “Coming, sweetheart?” Lucas has a hand out to me. “Let me show you my world.”

  “Is this the part where girls think you’re smooth for quoting movies as you invite them aboard for a private make out sesh?”

  “More like they’re impressed because I have a boat. Now step onto the magic carpet.”

  “It’s a boat.”

  “Then jump down the rabbit hole with me.”

  Lucas snatches my hand and tugs, catching me in his arms when I trip into the boat. I feel the pleased rumble coming from his chest. After a tense beat where we stare at each other, he sets me down and unmoors the boat.

  Not knowing what to do with myself, I sink onto the cushioned bench, tucking my bag in my lap and hugging it.

  It hits me that I’m going off alone with Lucas. Can I really trust him? He didn’t hurt me when he stole me away for a joyride, but it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

  Maybe I’m some kind of crazy.

  Maybe I’m kidding myself with my insistence on staying away when I keep running headlong into Lucas and all the dangers he represents.

  Maybe…I’m trying to recreate what happened to me with Matt out of some misguided, subconscious effort to control my past and change it. Like fighting back.

  But that won’t change anything. My heart skips a beat when the engine purrs. If I want to get off the boat, now’s my chance. I dig my fingers into my messenger bag and take measured breaths.

  I don’t get off the boat.

  Lucas coils the rope, then sits at the wheel. Lancelot barks happily and hops on the captain’s chair, squeezing behind Lucas.

  They’re both relaxed. It helps me loosen my claw-like hold on my bag and calm down from my brief mental spiral.

  He navigates us onto the lake with little effort, looking completely at home. Once we clear the boathouse and coast out into deeper water several feet away from the shore and the dock, Lucas opens up the engine and we fly across the water.

  An embarrassing squeak leaves me at the sudden speed and I grip the leather seat. The front of the boat cuts through the glassy surface of the water as Lucas takes us further away from his house. I watch his hair whip around.

  The lake is huge, much bigger than I realized from looking at Google maps. There are dips into the bank as the whole lake curves around part of the mountain.

  The worry that crashed over me slips away in starts and stops until the beauty of the lake soothes me into hypnotic wonder.

  When Lucas slows down and I don’t fear toppling from the boat, I take out my camera. For a while we’re both quiet as I take pictures. The lake is even more beautiful from the middle of it all.

  At the center of the lake, Lucas cuts the engine and plops next to me. I have a hawk in my viewfinder, tracking it as it arcs across the vivid sky. After I press the shutter, I sit back in my seat and take in the scenery.

  “It’s really pretty out here.”

  “Yeah.”

  “It must have been nice growing up with this as your backyard.”

  Lucas hums, absently playing with my hair. Lancelot leaps onto the bench and settles between us. I pet Lancelot’s ears as Lucas stretches his arm behind me.

  Everything about him seems to melt into a serene state out here. His legs fall open and his face loses the tension. I didn’t realize it lingered around the sides of his mouth and the corners of his eyes until it dropped away.

  I think this lake might be his happy place.

  It’s much more relaxing out here with the three of us rather than the party environment back at his house. My erratic demons—the memories that haunt me—retreat to the shadows of my mind.

  We sit in a surprisingly comfortable silence as nature surrounds us, birds chirping in the trees, fish and frogs swimming in the water, a distant coyote calling early for the approaching dusk.

  Lucas sinks his fingers in my hair and my eyelids flutter when he combs through the strands, massaging my scalp.

  “What will you do after school?”

  The question startles me out of a peaceful trance.

  “College. With photography there're degrees, but I don’t know what I want my focus to be. I like landscapes and the tranquility of waiting for the moment.”

  Lucas hums in acknowledgement, returning his hand to my hair. More thoughts spill forth before I’ve decided if it’s okay to tell him or not.

  “I also like taking pictures of people. But I don’t think I want to direct them—fashion and studio portraits don’t really speak to me. I enjoy watching and holding out for the right moment…the right emotion.”

  “So you’ll try out a bunch of different things to find what feels like the right choice for you?”

  I shrug. “I guess so. It’ll be cool to intern with a news outlet to cover marches and protests, or maybe I can network with local wildlife photographers. Who knows, maybe I’ll end up shooting for NatGeo.”

  A laugh leaves me in a huff at my ambition.

  “Either that, or you could end up as a seasonal photographer for a mall Santa.”

  I smack Lucas in the chest without any heat. He snatches my hand and holds it to his lips.

  “God, I hope not. The mall near my old house in Colorado Springs makes the photographers dress up like elves.”

  “I bet you’d look cute in red and white striped tights.”


  Lucas smirks and trails his eyes over me.

  I shove at him and he curls his arms around my shoulders to hold me closer as he messes with my hair.

  “Have you always taken pictures?”

  Lucas tightens his hand in my hair for a moment after asking, then releases it along with a strained exhale.

  “Well, not always. I’ve enjoyed pictures since I was a kid. My parents got me this toy disposable camera one year,” I explain, shaking my head with a wry smile when I remember the abstract shots I came across when I packed up my room to prepare for our move. “But I only got into it more seriously in the last couple of years. It wasn’t something I’d given much thought to, other than the camera app on my phone during family vacations or selfies. Then…”

  I trail off for a second, not ready to fully admit to him how healing photography was for me after Matt and that party. Photography allowed me to remove myself from a situation while still experiencing it. I can capture what happens without being involved.

  It’s a safe barrier between me and the world around me.

  Picking at the zipper on my jacket, I continue. “I got it more—why people love doing it. I prefer looking from the outside.”

  As long as I have a camera in my hand, I’ll be happy.

  I peek at Lucas in my periphery. His expression is closed off and inscrutable, but I discern the flash of pain in his eyes.

  “What about you? I suppose you’re off to make a name for yourself in football.” I pat my camera on the cushion beside me. “You look good doing it. From a photographer’s perspective.”

  Lucas doesn’t answer. His jaw works and he opens his mouth like he has something to say, but then he blows out a breath and ruffles his hair. He’s not as forthcoming about his future aspirations as I am.

  “Yeah. My dad and I are taking a trip soon to visit University of Utah and University of Washington. He says he wants the best for me.”

  “Cool.”

  Lucas lifts a brow and looks at me from the corner of his eye. “They have impressive football programs.”

  “…Cool?”

  His perplexed expression makes me crack up. I lose control of it quickly, gasping for air as my stomach muscles cramp. My laugh echoes across the peaceful surface of the lake and into the treetops.

  It cuts off abruptly when Lucas leans over and kisses me. He cups my face, thumb brushing my cheek as his lips glide over mine. I loop my arms around his neck and part my lips for his tongue.

  Unlike our other kisses that scorch the earth like wildfire, this one glows like a warm ember.

  It’s like he’s trying to say something with the kiss that he couldn’t put into words.

  Lancelot barks, interrupting us by putting his little paws on my thigh.

  “Oh, do you want some loving, too?” I ask after pulling away from Lucas.

  I pet Lancelot as Lucas mutters. All I catch is kidding me and jealous as he rubs his mouth.

  “Should we head back?” I suggest. “It’s getting pretty dark.”

  Part of me is hesitant to give up this side of Lucas so soon. He’s…different out here. Is this who he really is beneath the cruel bastard and the cocky quarterback?

  “Are you afraid of the dark, sweetheart?” Lucas rasps the question against my ear, stirring my insides. “I’ll show you the light. You don’t have to worry.”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  I feel the curve of Lucas’ mouth stretch against my lobe. His voice drops lower and it shudders through me when he says, “Then I’m not trying hard enough.”

  Nineteen

  Lucas

  As I’m passing the computer lab after the last bell of the day, I catch sight of Gemma alone, outlined in the artificial glow of the computer. Perfect, I was about to text her.

  I redirect and duck into the lab. Enlarged photos fill the screen in an editing program. She must be working on an assignment.

  Grabbing a rolling chair, I approach her. I drop onto it, straddling it backwards and fold my arms over the backrest.

  Gemma ignores me and keeps working.

  The corner of my mouth lifts. If she didn’t learn her lesson about ignoring me last time, I’ll gladly repeat the lesson. My attention drops to her green and white plaid skirt and my mind fills with images of making her come again.

  I wanted to when I had her on my boat. Badly.

  I prop my chin on my arms. “Are you going to the party this weekend?”

  Gemma doesn’t answer. I reach out and tickle her side, getting her to squeak and scoot out of range. She gives up trying to ignore me and flashes me a glare that’s all bark and no bite.

  “No.”

  She still won’t surrender to my control. I can’t say I’m mad at it. It’s thrilling when she challenges me.

  “No? That won’t do. I think you mean yes.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Nah, you’re not.”

  “I am!”

  Gemma huffs and returns her attention to the computer, clicking through her photos. There’s a black and white of a building downtown. It’s a favorite of mine. I’ve sketched it a few times. The high contrast in the photo highlights the sharp lines of the building.

  “What will I do without my girl at my party?”

  I thread my hands in her hair. It’s not in a braid today, so I take advantage. She hums and tips her head into my hand for a second, enjoying the touch.

  “I’ll file it away that you like your hair played with. It’ll make things fun later. What about hair pulling? That really gets me hard.”

  “Ugh.” Gemma swats my hand away. “I’m not your girl.”

  I drop the playful act and sit up.

  “You are.”

  When Gemma scoffs, I grab her chin and yank her face to meet mine. I look at her fiercely, grinding my jaw.

  “I want you there. If you don’t show up, I’m gonna be pissed.”

  There’s nothing I can do to hold back the possessive growl in my tone. I wouldn’t bother, anyway. Gemma is mine. It’s about damn time she stops fighting me on that fact.

  “Sorry to disappoint.” Gemma jerks out of my hold and taps a few keys on the keyboard. “You’ll have to get over it.”

  With that, she grabs her stuff and leaves in a rush before I can untangle myself from the rolling chair. I stand there alone, breathing through the annoyance.

  When the clock on the wall catches my attention, I head for practice.

  She will learn she’s mine. I’ll make sure of it.

  * * *

  The lights on the field make my head throb. Or maybe that’s the hit I took from the other team’s massive douche on offense that plowed me over.

  Carter is supposed to have my back, but he didn’t catch the guy in time.

  The cheerleaders rile up the crowd in the stands, Marissa leading her pack. I pace the sidelines and squirt my drink into my mouth, gasping as I gulp it down.

  I’m done, but there’s still two quarters to play. The marching band is winding down their performance on the field. I wish Coach would put in our reserve. Even my fingernails ache.

  I’m stuck here playing the person everyone wants me to be.

  Alec nods to me as he passes to sit on the bench.

  I peer up at the stands and scan for Gemma. Coyote Girls hang as far as they can over the rails to shout to the Silver Lake High players. Proud parents, students, and local fans cheer us to victory. The one person I want to see is missing.

  She never comes to the games. I don’t expect to find her, but something in my body is calling out for her right now.

  It might be my fucked up heart.

  I have to suck it up, like she said earlier. I can’t have everything I want.

  “We’ve got this in the bag, cap.” Carter slaps my back. “Sorry about that last play, bro. That dude is a fuckin’ tank.”

  “Feels like it even more when he takes you down.”

  Carter chortles like I’m joking. I’m not.

 
I’m so tired. I wish I was at home with my sketchbook and Lancelot sitting on my feet.

  Instead I’m stuck here, with everyone looking to me to bring it home. If I don’t get us a win, we lose our chances at the championship playoffs. For every other dude on the team that goal is serious. It’s in their eyes, the fierce need to win broiling beneath the surface. I see it when they look my way.

  For me, I don’t give a shit, but it’s still weighing on my shoulders as the team captain.

  I crave the heady relief of washing my hands of this and walking away. Something stops me and keeps me tethered every time I think I’ve worked up enough courage to pick what I want instead of what’s expected of me.

  This game used to be fun when I tossed the ball at the beach by the lake with my friends. I played because I had a good time. The weight of growing assumption for me to keep winning—to aim for impressing drafting scouts and go pro—slowly crushes me into the damp grass beneath my cleats.

  No one cares what I want. They only see my potential because I’m good at the game. It sucks all the enjoyment out of it when there’s pressure to make it my career.

  What does it say about me that I’ve sometimes wished for a serious injury to take me out, to keep me from playing for good? But fate has been a kind asshole to me, leaving the decision in my hands. I just have to be strong enough.

  I lean against the fence and Carter stands beside me, flirting with the Coyote Girls cooing at us above in the stands.

  “Wave at the fans.” Carter nudges me. “Look how adoring they are. Easy pickings for a post-game blowjob. Get your dick wet, man, you look like a fucking grim reaper right now.”

  I hide a grimace and give a half-hearted wave to the girls just so Carter will get off my ass. Gemma fills my head again. I flick a glance over the stands, despite knowing it’s pointless. She’s not here.

  “Did you tap that sweet piece of ass yet? Mm, she’s so fine.”

  “Just about.” I cover my tight tone with a cocky laugh. “I’ve got her moaning all pretty for me.”

  “So where’s the goods? Get that proof before someone else slides in and takes the pot from you.” Carter waggles his eyebrows and pushes the sweaty hair back from his head. He lights up and grabs my jersey to tug me closer, like he has a secret. “Oh! I’ve got a great way to hide your phone so you can record it while you fuck her. I tried it out last weekend, worked like a charm. Remind me to show you after we win tonight.” He flashes me a salacious smirk. It turns my stomach. “I swear, this chick squirted all over my dick.”