I thought over what he’d said to me and soaked in the undeniable heat in my chest it had left with me. I guessed it was hard to deny the depths of his feelings for me, whatever they may be exactly. He’d taken a bullet for me. What more could a person possibly do for someone?
He finally returned to the room with a towel around his waist, moving easier now that the painkillers had clearly kicked in. It brought a satisfied smile to my lips, but it was still hard to see all the bruising over his perfect body. He'd been careful not to get his dressing wet so it wouldn't need to be changed again and his cast was bone dry. Saint was born to follow rules. At least those he deemed necessary to follow.
“Can I help you get dressed?” I asked him as he made to walk past me and I slipped out of the bed to approach him.
Saint stilled as I moved closer, letting me walk right up to him as his eyes dragged over the thin nightdress he’d given me and he took in my hardened nipples pressing through the lace. I was still aching for the pleasure he’d almost let me have in the shower and looking at him standing there in nothing but a towel was giving me all kinds of ideas I probably shouldn’t have been having about this cruel tormentor.
A bead of water slid down the dark skin of his bare chest and I bit down on my bottom lip as it rode over the swell of his pec and down his abs.
A low growl escaped him and his hands closed around my waist as he leaned down close to me, making my breath catch with his proximity.
“You never were a doll anyway, were you, Tatum?” he breathed, my name sounding sinful on those perfect lips of his. “You’re a temptress, seductress, a damn siren sent to lure me in and make my body ache. You were built to test me in every way imaginable and sometimes, I think you might just make me forget every rule I’ve ever sworn to live by.”
His grip on my waist tightened and a needy whimper escaped me as I reached for him, sliding my hands up his chest until my fingers were caressing his tattoo, inviting him to make good on that promise even though I knew I shouldn’t.
“See?” he breathed, moving so close that I felt I might be consumed by his dark energy. “You’re at it again. Siren.”
I blinked up at him innocently, wanting to protest that I wasn’t doing anything, but maybe I knew that wasn’t true. Perhaps I didn’t like to admit it to myself, but the idea of me tempting Saint in wasn’t something I was against. This man before me might be a beast of the most terrifying kind, but there was an allure to him that I couldn’t quite describe and I liked the idea of him feeling that way about me too.
“I need to get dressed,” he said abruptly, using his grip on my waist to push me back a step before releasing me and walking away, leaving me reeling and aching for him to return. Why the hell did he keep doing that to me? And why the fuck did I keep letting it happen?
He walked into his closet and I frowned as I waited for him to come back. He could get out of his clothes fairly easily, but getting into them was a different matter. He returned in just a pair of boxers though, a crease on his brow saying he'd caused himself pain to pull them on.
"You're due to sleep in Blake's room tonight," he said with a flash of venom in his eyes. Was he...jealous?
"Screw the rules." I waved a hand dismissively. "I want to stay with you until you're better."
His eyebrows arched as if my suggestion was not only surprising but unsettling. I stood from the bed, taking his hand and drawing him towards his spot.
"Tatum," he warned. "The rules say-"
"I don't care, Saint," I said firmly. "I'm not going anywhere."
His eyes travelled to my lips and his adam's apple rose and fell. "Stay then," he said like it was his decision. "But when I'm strong enough to punish you properly, you'll pay for the rule break."
"Sure." I rolled my eyes, a smirk pulling at my mouth as I helped him into the bed.
I got in on the other side and Saint awkwardly tried to turn and get his book of Poe's dark poems off his nightstand.
"Would you ever just ask for help?" I teased as I leaned over him and got the book, placing it on his lap.
"I don't need help," he said simply and I tsked.
"Everyone needs help sometimes. It doesn't make you weak. Is that what you're worried about?"
A pause of silence passed. "No...my father always taught me to fight my own battles. To rely on myself and no one else."
"That sounds familiar," I sighed, the weight of his words falling over me as I recognised that same teaching from my own father. He'd encouraged me to stand on my own two feet, to be prepared for anything, to face the world alone if I had to. But that didn't mean he wasn't there for me when I needed him most. And now he never will be again.
I clenched my jaw and blinked back tears. Saint reached over, taking my hand and squeezing, his cool flesh against mine dragging me back up to the surface. He released me just as fast, opening the book and thumbing through the pages. Then he read a couple of lines to me. "Yet if hope has flown away. In a night, or in a day. In a vision, or in none, is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem. Is but a dream within a dream."
"What does it mean?" I whispered, the words making my skin prickle.
"It means that nothing really matters," he mused. "Because we're all just living in a dream."
"Do you believe that?" I asked and he contemplated that.
"I think the world is malleable," he said. "I think our realities can be forged. But that doesn't make it any less real. But I guess there's some comfort in the words because it means whatever fantasy you can dream up could be made true."
I laid back on my pillow, staring up at the ceiling as I thought on that. What did I want my world to look like now that everything had been ripped away from me? What kind of reality was worth moving forward for? And what sweet kind of dreams was I ever going to have now anyway?
***
“How’s the research going then, brother? Have you found out anything interesting?” Kyan asked Saint at breakfast as he used a piece of toast on his plate to shovel up the last remnants of his cooked meal before stuffing it all in his mouth.
Saint watched him with undisguised disgust as Kyan proceeded to suck each of his fingers to remove the grease from them. I laughed softly and Saint shot me a glare that could have melted glass.
“I don’t have enough to go on to track Mortez. Not even a first name. And there are fifteen hundred Mortezs in this state alone, let alone the whole of the United States. It is also, most likely, a fake name, especially if he really was working for the CIA which I am currently inconclusive on.” Saint leaned back in his chair in thought. There was more light in his eyes today after a decent night’s sleep and I was glad to see that the shadows beneath them had disappeared entirely. And it actually made me feel good to be focusing on finding the truth. “It is possible, however, that he would have rented a property or lodged in a hotel somewhere within the vicinity of this school to have been able to arrive at the cabin quickly enough to intercept Tatum’s father once he tracked her phone. I have been making calls to the hotels, working grid by grid away from Everlake. There are a surprising amount of inns, B&Bs etcetera out toward the mountains and many didn’t answer their phones over the Christmas period no matter how many times I called.”
“He was on hold for four hours to one hotel on Christmas day, going through some automated system,” Blake supplied with an eyeroll. “Remember when the line cut out and you went apeshit?” he mused like it was a fond memory and Saint’s eyes narrowed to slits.
I didn’t understand why Saint had been working so tirelessly to find some information on Mortez since I’d left. I knew it was important, but why was he so obsessed with it especially?
“It’s a shame we didn’t take Mortez’s phone from his dead body then,” Kyan mused, a smirk dancing around his lips and I shook my head at him, knowing he had it. But he was clearly going to mess with Saint before he handed it over.
“A fact I would not have missed if I’d been even semi-conscious,”
Saint snipped in irritation.
Kyan reached into his blazer pocket and placed down the phone on the table, spinning it around next to his empty plate.
Saint looked over at it with the fires of hell blazing in his eyes. But when he spoke, he was deathly calm. And that was somehow more frightening. “If that is what I think it is, Kyan Roscoe, I will take my knife, castrate you and burn your balls in the fireplace.”
“I’m kinda attached to my balls, bro, how about you take a finger instead?” Kyan offered with a chuckle, sliding the phone down the table to Saint.
Saint’s hand slammed down on it, his knuckles turning white around it. “Why did you keep this from me?” he hissed like a freaking snake.
Kyan shrugged one shoulder. “I forgot about it.”
Saint stood from his chair, practically spitting venom. “You forgot? Forgot the one item which could have saved me hours and hours of research into the most minor of details?”
“Yep.” Kyan nodded. “Oh, I popped the SIM card out in case there’s a tracker on it, but my bet is that’s a burner. If not, I know some software you can install which-”
“I know how to block a tracker you infuriating, bushwhacking peasant of a fucking hick,” Saint snapped, rising from his seat and snatching up his knife as if he was about to see through on his threat and Kyan laughed his head off, placing his hand down on the table.
“You can take my pinky,” Kyan offered. “But are you sure you want it? Don’t forget how how good it feels up your ass, baby. That’s a lifetime of pleasure you’ll be denying yourself.”
Saint growled like an animal. “You won’t be laughing when I do it and take your balls too while you’re crying like a baby on the floor.”
“Saint,” I gasped. “Calm down.”
“I’ll be calm when pieces have been severed from his body,” Saint hissed, striding towards all two hundred pounds of Kyan even with a broken arm, fractured ribs and a freaking gunshot wound, but apparently none of those things were enough to deter him. Kyan leaned back in his seat, raising his pinky finger in offering and grinning tauntingly as Saint came at him.
Blake got up, casually stepping between them and snatching the knife from Saint’s grip. Saint got up in his face, his teeth bared, his shoulders shaking.
“You have the phone now, dude, so go do your mumbo jumbo to it so we can find out what’s on it,” Blake said firmly, the voice of reason. Why was that so hot?
“Blake’s right,” I agreed quickly. “If he was sent by someone, then surely his phone will link us to them,” I added hopefully, praying there really was a lead on there. There just had to be. Maybe this was why Saint was so obsessed with his investigations; it was a distraction. And with his current state, he needed one of those almost as keenly as I did.
Saint met my gaze and I sucked my lip, hopeful that he might drop his dismembering threats on Kyan in favour of this. His shoulders slumped and he sighed, heading away towards his room.
“I will disable any tracking software,” he muttered, his posture still rigid as he walked upstairs.
Kyan snorted a laugh and I tossed a piece of apple at him from my bowl of fruit and yoghurt. It slapped against his cheek, leaving a white patch of yoghurt by his lips which he licked away before tossing the piece of apple into his mouth too. “Thanks, baby,” he mocked. “C’mere. I want a kiss.”
Blake frowned, looking at him for the joke. “The closest I’ve ever seen you get to a kiss is eating a juicy peach. What gives?”
“Things change.” Kyan shrugged, but he eyed me hungrily like he was deadly serious about getting his lips on mine.
“Kyan couldn’t help himself when he saw me covered from head to toe in blood,” I said, my heart beating harder at the memory.
“That’s sick, man,” Blake commented, but he smirked too.
“I am sick. Really fucking sick. I should be locked up,” Kyan drawled then got up, striding towards me on the hunt for that kiss. He leaned down, his hand sliding into my hair and pulling tightly, making me tip my head back so he could claim my mouth. His tongue sank deep between my lips and heat rose in my cheeks as he kissed me unashamedly, branding me as his right in front of Blake.
When he pulled away, I was as breathless as he was and the storm in his eyes said he didn’t want to be done with me yet.
“She tastes like sugar laced perfection, right?” Blake grinned, looking hungry to come and claim a kiss for himself and I wasn’t wholly against that idea.
“Yeah,” Kyan said gruffly just as Saint returned from upstairs with Mortez’s phone in hand.
“If there was a tracker it is now disabled, but it’s got a passcode,” he growled. “I will compile a list of the most common passcodes and use any information I have on Mortez to make some intelligent assumptions.”
“If we get locked out of that phone, the information on it will be gone,” Kyan warned.
“Congratulations,” Saint deadpanned. “You just won the King of Stating the Obvious award. Here’s your prize.” He punched Kyan’s shoulder with his good arm, hard enough to make Kyan wince before he burst out laughing again.
“Are you sure you can break into it?” I asked Saint, worry gnawing at me. Whatever was on that phone had to be able to help us. I was pinning so much on that hope.
“Yes, siren,” he said confidently. “Because my name is Saint Memphis.”
“And does the Saint Memphis want another little side project, because me and Tatum have some vengeance plans and we could use a psycho Sherlock Holmes to help us out with it,” Kyan said and despite his jokes, I could see his hesitance to speak this secret in his eyes.
“Go on,” Saint encouraged as his brows arched.
“Well, as you know, my family are a bunch of messed up motherfuckers,” Kyan began slowly and I squeezed his hand in solidarity.
“Understatement of the year,” Blake joked.
“Yeah. Well, I should have told you this when it happened, but back then I guess I was afraid,” Kyan said.
“Afraid?” Saint questioned like the thought of that was absurd and I guessed it was kinda hard to think of Kyan fearing anything. But when it came to the love of these men, I knew that meant more to him than anything in the world and I understood why he’d been afraid of altering their opinion of him.
“Last summer, Liam decided that it was time for me to be initiated into this fucked up secret society that him and his rich friends are all a part of. It’s called Royaume D’élite. I dunno what that means, but-”
“Elite Kingdom,” Saint supplied, because of course he knew that without even trying.
“Right. Makes sense, seeing as every asshole there clearly thinks of themselves as a god,” Kyan spat bitterly. “Anyway, it’s a place where they meet and arrange business dealings and lord it over all the small folk I guess. They drink fancy alcohol and wear masks and all that shit. But it’s not just about business dealings, it’s like a place where laws no longer exist. There are men and women there who are bought and sold to be used for anything from fucking to butchering and that’s not an exaggeration. The shit I saw there was enough to fuck me up and I’ve seen a lot of depraved crap in my lifetime.”
“Why wouldn’t you tell us about this before now?” Blake asked, seeming offended and Kyan hung his head.
“Because… I had to take part in an initiation to earn my membership there and I wasn’t given a choice in my participation. They hold this fucked up death game where most of the prospective members just use a proxy – some poor street kid with no idea what they’ve been put in there for and no choice in the matter. Only one winner can be left at the end of the game which means everyone else has to die. I refused to force some poor bastard to participate in my place, so I…”
“You took part and won,” Saint finished for him, his frown deepening. “And you feared we would change our opinion of you when we learned you had been forced to take the lives of innocents?”
I shifted closer to Kyan, fearing the next words that
might come from Saint’s lips but I was totally thrown as instead of berating him or judging him, Saint stood and moved around the table before enveloping Kyan in his arms. Blake was half a step behind him and the three of them clung to one another fiercely for a long moment as I felt their love for each other like a tangible force in the air.
“You are one of the best men I know, Kyan Roscoe,” Saint growled. “Nothing would ever lower my opinion of you.”
“I love you, man,” Blake added. “And I’m sorry you had to deal with this alone for so long.”
Kyan sagged with relief as he clung to the men he’d chosen for his brothers for a little longer before shoving them off playfully.
“Alright, alright, I’m an idiot for doubting you,” he said with a relieved laugh. “Now unless one of you wants to suck my cock, I suggest you sit back down and decide whether or not you wanna help me and Tate take those motherfuckers down?”
Kyan dragged me into his lap with a wide grin and I couldn’t help but beam back at him as Saint considered what we wanted.
“Yes…I will assist you,” Saint agreed. “I’ll need to sit with you and go over every single detail you know about their organisation-”
“I was afraid of that,” Kyan groaned.
“It may take some time, but I’m sure I’ll find a way to unravel their twisted little club.” Saint said it with an almost lustful expression and I realised he was totally in his element. And who better to help us take down a bunch of monsters, than the most dangerous monster I knew?
T he first day of class after the Christmas break had been a success for the most part. Pearl Devickers had managed not to try and flash me her tits during P.E., none of the little assholes had been sent for a 'chat with the head' and I hadn't even had to give anyone detention.
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