Tempting Devil: Sinners and Saints Book 2

by Eden, Veronica

  Blair: Don’t know why you’re ignoring me. Are we done?

  I can’t believe I’m actually upset about Devlin’s cold shoulder. Not that long ago, it would’ve been a dream come true to stop existing on his radar. Now I want to jump up and down in front of him in the SLHS cheerleader outfit again to get his attention.

  My cheeks heat.

  I absolutely do not picture what else I might get from him by wearing it.

  Definitely not.

  Not at all.

  Nope.

  My phone buzzes, sending my heart free falling into my gut. It’s not Devlin. He’s still ignoring me.

  Switching to Instagram, I open the direct message from Gemma. I haven’t told her about getting tangled up with her boyfriend’s evil cousin.

  @brightgem: Dyyyying!

  @brightgem: [sent @pugsly_daily’s story]

  The Instagram story is hilarious and lifts the weight from my shoulders for a few moments of pure pug-induced happiness. The pug in the video is our favorite pudgy Instafamous dog account sinking into a beanbag, barely visible until he explodes from the beanbag with an amusing flail.

  @disblair: omg [heart eyes emoji] sweet lumpy prince!

  I close out of the app and prod the side of my phone to feel the squish of my fingertips. Willing a message from Devlin to come doesn’t work.

  Maybe I should hope for a shooting star instead, like Mom used to tell me.

  But that won’t work either.

  I should know, after all the wishes I wasted hoping Dad would come back and take care of us.

  * * *

  Mom and I are only on our second slices of pizza when there’s a knock on the door. We pause our chewing, glancing at each other.

  “I hope that’s not Alexei wanting to collect the rent.” Mom wipes pizza sauce from her mouth and goes to get up.

  “I’ll get it.”

  I spring up before she can. She deserves to rest.

  As I swing open the aluminum door, I’ve got what I’ll say to Alexei the landlord ready to go. But instead of Alexei’s thinning bleach-tipped hair, gray whiskers, and beer gut, someone I never thought I’d see here waits at the bottom of the steps.

  Devlin.

  He stands at the edge of the pool of light spilling out onto the weeds and gravel in front of our trailer, hands tucked in his pockets. It’s a mild night, the heat of the day not yet dipping into the cooler temperatures.

  After barely seeing or speaking to him this week, he’s here on my doorstep in a henley and jeans.

  “Hi.” I brace my hands on the doorframe. “What are you doing here?”

  Devlin takes a step forward, into the light. He peers up at me, eyes hooded. There are bags underneath them, a sign he’s not rested. I’ve never seen him like this.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I find Mom nibbling on her crust, trying to look like she’s not listening. I close the door behind me and sit on the top step. An uncomfortable tightness sits in my chest. It chafes to face Devlin while sitting in front of my sad house. The trailer could easily fit in his garage. Twice, probably.

  When he still doesn’t answer me, I pry further. “You’ve avoided me all week.”

  We haven’t spoken since the kiss at his practice match. Even in English, Devlin arrives right when the bell rings and leaves as soon as class ends.

  Devlin takes out a cigarette and lights it, the amber glow of the flame flickering over the sharp planes of his face. He takes a deep drag, then tips his head back slightly to exhale. The plume of acrid smoke curls in the air, tickling my nostrils.

  I cover my nose with the sleeve of my oversized hoodie to filter out the smoke. “So we’re just going to have some one-sided conversation here?”

  His gaze snaps to mine. A muscle in his jaw jumps. His cheeks hollow as he inhales another puff.

  “Talk to me,” I demand, getting annoyed. I jolt to my feet and rush down the steps to get in his face. At the first hint of leather and ginger, my heart skips. I actually missed it. I’ll make him answer me. “Why did you come here if you’re still ignoring me?”

  Devlin plucks the cigarette from between his lips, ashing it with an absent flick. He’s infuriating.

  Throwing my hands up, I ask, “How do you even know where I live?”

  Devlin grows agitated, the sharp line of his jaw tense as he tosses his half-finished cigarette to the gravel and crunches his shoe on it. He sweeps his gaze away, only to cut back to me like he needs to keep me in his sight.

  I’m worried something happened to his family or something to put that haunted shadow in his dark eyes.

  “I followed you home once. So I’d know how to get to you if you got away.”

  A chill zips down my spine. “You...what?”

  Devlin purses his lips and shrugs. “I needed to know, so I followed you. I’ve known where you live this whole time.”

  “Okay, stalker. That’s wrong on so many levels.”

  He plucks at the long sleeves of my hoodie. It’s then that I realize I’m in cotton shorts with yellow ducks printed on them. He lifts a brow and grazes my thigh right under the hem.

  My pulse thunders. When I stumble away, I wince, stubbing my bare toe on a big piece of gravel.

  Devlin drags me back by my hips, skimming his fingers under the hem of the hoodie. I swallow, fighting back the flutter. Our kiss wasn’t real, and neither is this. He’s playing with me.

  Struggling to mask the true hurt in my words, I mutter, “I thought you threw me away.”

  “I don’t throw people away,” Devlin says, cold and precise. His grip on my hips flexes. “I use them when they’re useful to me.”

  My head jerks back. “That’s the same thing.”

  He slides his hand higher to the side of my stomach. His touch is hot, sending sparks over my skin.

  “It’s not.”

  Devlin presses his face into my neck and exhales. The hot gust of air makes me shiver. His tongue darts out and tastes my skin.

  This is crazy. He’s the one who stayed away all week, and now he’s holding me like a man possessed, unwilling to let me go. After hesitating with my hands hanging in midair, I rest them on his sides, playing with the soft material of the henley shirt clinging to his abs.

  “What kind of wicked siren are you?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He leans back to give me a brooding look. “You make me want impossible things. Ever since you kissed me, I want—”

  His attention drops to my lips. He leans in, hovering his mouth over mine.

  “The kiss was one of your orders for the deal,” I whisper, wide-eyed. “It wasn’t real.”

  Devlin stills. He buries his face back in my neck, remaining quiet for another beat. He murmurs something I can’t understand, words muffled against my neck.

  This is a different devil than the one I know.

  Concern wins out over everything else—my annoyance at him for avoiding me and the stress. “What’s wrong?”

  Devlin turns to marble beneath my hands, rigid and impenetrable. He leans back to face me, his hands locking together at the small of my back.

  “Move in with me. Live at my house.”

  Disbelief crashes over me. For a long moment, I can’t speak, only gape at him. When I find my voice, it’s shrill.

  “Excuse me?” A nervous giggle bubbles out of me. “You opened your mouth and fucking crazy came out.”

  Devlin’s expression is a blank mask.

  No.

  No, no, fuck no.

  I shove at his chest, but he keeps me in place, tightening his embrace.

  Glaring up at him, I list all the ways that’s never fucking happening. “You’re out of your mind! What makes you think I would agree to that? What would you even get out of that? No. No way! People at school would talk and get the wrong idea and, more importantly, my mom would never let me!”

  “Ten thousand.” It’s Devlin’s only response, passive and bored.

  What the fu
ck?

  I smack his chest. He doesn’t budge.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t have to explain it to you.”

  “You do if you expect me to agree!”

  “Are you backing out of our deal?” Devlin crushes me in his arms. “Whatever I say goes. If you can’t comply, I’ll shred our contract and drop you off at the police station.”

  “No!”

  It’s difficult to control the train wreck of emotions.

  On one hand, ten grand is a lot of money. All I have to do to get it is live with Devlin. That’s way less of a public humiliation, unless he brings people home while I’m there or lets me ride to school with him.

  On the other, I’d have to live with Devlin. Enemy territory, unfamiliar and uncharted. It would put me in a vulnerable position, dependent on him in every way.

  Jesus, what would he do with access to me night and day? He’s a twisted and ruthless demon. I’m afraid to imagine what he might come up with in his fucked up head.

  The water from the sink turns on inside the trailer. I can hear the muted sounds of Mom shuffling around. Shit, I can’t let her find out about my deal with Devlin.

  “You’re psychotic and entitled! I won’t do it. You can’t just throw money at me to make it happen. The world doesn’t work like that, Devlin.”

  This has gone so much further than navigating Devlin’s playing field to keep myself out of jail.

  A muscle jumps in Devlin’s jaw as it clenches. “In my world, it does. The money doesn’t matter. Anything I want, I get it.”

  He slides his hand into my hair and tugs a fistful, drawing my head back. A strangled cry catches in my throat. He puts his teeth on the stretched column of my neck, scraping against the skin. I jerk in his hold, heat spearing through me and throbbing between my legs. I hate the way he can manipulate my body.

  “Haven’t you learned the rules by now, little thief?” His tongue chases the same path as his teeth. I grit my molars stubbornly to hold in a moan. It’s not fair, it feels so good. “You don’t get to say no.”

  I buck against him to throw him off. “Let me go!”

  Devlin releases me with a grunt and I stumble over the gravel. It digs into the bare soles of my feet. Clenching my teeth doesn’t help stave off the pain.

  “You’re coming with me tonight.”

  “I don’t fucking think so.”

  Fed up with Devlin, I push up my hoodie sleeve and slap him. The crack of my hand on his cheek echoes in the air.

  “I’m not.”

  Devlin touches his cheek gingerly, staring at me in surprise.

  Good.

  Yanking back some control from this entitled asshole feels awesome.

  There’s a gleam of respect in Devlin’s eyes for a second before it vanishes. He makes no move to retaliate. I don’t trust him, so I square off against him with my guard up, prepared for whatever he wants to throw at me next.

  My chest heaves on a frustrated breath. “You might pay me to do whatever you say, but that doesn’t mean you control me.”

  Devlin considers me, cocking his head like I’ve made a play he wasn’t expecting. The corners of his mouth twitch up.

  Before our argument can continue, a loud crash sounds from inside, drawing our attention. I spin on my heel, icy dread freezing my veins.

  “Mom!”

  Devlin is right behind me as we rush inside the trailer.

  Twenty-One

  Devlin

  Macy Davis lies in a slump across the cheap linoleum floor where she collapsed, white as a sheet. Sharp pieces of a broken plate are scattered around her. The faucet in the sink is on.

  This is not how I expected things to go when I drove over here to get Blair, no longer able to stand avoiding her.

  “Oh my god,” Blair croaks.

  Something stirs to life inside my long-frozen heart as Blair crashes to her knees beside her mother, barely missing cutting her knee open on a piece of shattered glass.

  Blair’s devotion to her mom is obvious. It’s undeniable she loves her.

  Dazed, I step around them to turn off the faucet. An uneasiness prods at me from the inside as I watch Blair tend to her mom. The pieces of the chessboard scatter in my head, strategy knocked askew by an urge to help.

  “Mom? Mom!” Blair gently rolls Macy over and touches her cheek. “Mom, wake up.”

  It simultaneously calls on the mangled shard inside of me that longs to fit into my family again and makes me burn with jealousy that these two women have a strong connection. A bond I’ll never get to have.

  “Can we get her into the car?” Blair asks. “We have to get her to the hospital.”

  “Why the hell would we drive her ourselves? We don’t know what happened to her and neither of us have emergency medical training. We can’t transport her safely.”

  Blair covers her face with one hand. “We don’t have insurance.”

  The concept is foreign to me. With parents renowned in the medical field who pressure me to follow in their footsteps, I feel as though I’ve been spoon fed the importance of medical care. My family has never faced being uninsured. I can’t wrap my head around being sick and not being able to see a doctor.

  “We’ll worry about that later.” I whip out my phone and dial. I have to do something. “The sooner we call for professional help, the better.”

  Blair flashes me a frazzled look. She hesitates, pursing her lips. “Fine. Call an ambulance, then! We need help.”

  I lift my brows, phone pressed to my ear. “Already on it. Don’t move her too much, you don’t know what caused her to collapse.”

  Blair’s eyes widen, probably panicking that she rolled her mom over. She takes Macy’s hand and presses her forehead to it.

  “Her hands are cold and clammy.”

  “Okay. Check for a pulse.”

  Color drains from Blair’s face. As her fingers fumble over Macy’s wrist, she whispers, “Oh my god.”

  A woman’s calm voice answers the phone. “911, what’s your emergency?”

  “I need an ambulance at 502 Spruce Lane, in Pine Hills Park. A woman collapsed.”

  “Okay, sir, I have help on the way. Is she conscious?”

  I lean in for a better look. “No. She’s passed out.”

  “Is she breathing?”

  “Yes.”

  Blair murmurs to her mom, carefully stroking her hair, arranging it out of her face. Tears cling to Blair’s inky lashes and she bites her lip. I’ve never seen her like this. For some reason, I want to take her tears away, make her feel better.

  I want to protect her, because only I get to make her cry.

  These tears aren’t for me.

  “It’ll be okay.” Blair flinches and swings her gaze to me. My chest cinches tight around my heart. “Your mom will be okay.”

  Blair’s big whiskey-colored eyes shine under the fluorescent lighting. She nods. It’s strange to find her beautiful right now, with her nose pink and runny, her eyes puffy, and tears streaming down her face.

  Beautiful and mine.

  Mine to protect. Mine to care for. Mine.

  I don’t know why I gave into the urge to comfort her. I owe her nothing. In fact, she owes me and her debt is yet to be paid.

  Watching her gently hold her mom’s hand as tears drop from her chin, I forget about the lingering sting in my cheek where she slapped me. An invisible band around my chest renders it hard to draw breath. I fight against the instinct to crouch beside Blair, gather her into my arms, and inhale the scent of her vanilla shampoo.

  She’s belonged to me since she signed that contract. Before that, even.

  Possessiveness rears up and takes over. I set everything between us aside. The only thing that matters right now is control.

  Minutes later, flashing red lights flicker through the windows, illuminating the walls. I open the front door. Once the paramedics bustle in, I scoop Blair into my arms, and lift her away from Macy.

  The emergency responders k
neel on either side of Macy in the kitchenette across the narrow room. One is a woman with her braids twisted into a bun on top of her head and the other is a stocky man in an EMT uniform.

  “Wait!” Blair cries, flailing her legs as I step out of the way.

  Even as she struggles, she weighs nothing in my arms. Her tiny shorts with the duck pattern ride up the more she flails, driving me crazy. I wish I could see her like this under different circumstances.

  When all of this is done, I’m making her wear the shorts again.

  “Calm down.” I set Blair down by the couch, resisting the twitch in my hands to pick her up again. I jerk my chin. “There’s broken glass all over the floor and you’re barefoot.”

  Blair peers down. “Oh.”

  “Go find shoes. You’ll probably need them if they have to take her.”

  Blair’s features crumble. She rolls her lips between her teeth and nods. Turning away, she scurries down a dim hall.

  “Patient is female, mid-thirties, unconscious,” the woman announces to her partner. “Breathing is shallow. Patient presents with symptoms of hypotension. Any known conditions?”

  I peer down the hall Blair disappeared. “Not sure.”

  The EMT makes a note on his tablet.

  When Blair comes back out with a pair of black Chucks on, I tuck her against my side as the emergency responders check Macy’s vitals and flurry around her prone body, avoiding the glass. We hover on the other side of the room, next to the world’s ugliest couch and a beat up coffee table. Blair trembles, digging her fingers into the material of my shirt. Holding her close feels right, soothing the weird possessiveness. I stroke her back, feeling both awkward because I’ve never comforted anyone, and like the action is the most natural thing to do.

  The whole time I ignore how good it feels to have her leaning on me. I shouldn’t enjoy having Blair in my arms. I came here to drag her back to my tower in the mountains because I’m a selfish monster.

  She’s only taking comfort in my embrace because she’s distraught, and I took charge of the situation.