by E. M. Snow
To my surprise, his features darken. He was mad before.
But now? Now, he’s furious.
“You really are a dumb bitch if you believe I had anything to do with that.” His voice is low and dangerous. I can’t help but think of a predator growling in the darkness, warning its prey that its time is running short.
“Of course you’d deny it,” I retort. “But it’s not much of a stretch to imagine you assaulting someone like that. Just look at the hell you’re always putting me through!”
“That’s different.” He tugs on my hair to emphasize his words just as his fingers drift down to rest on the curve of my butt. I want to wiggle away from him but I’m too scared that I’ll like feeling him against me. Instead, I stay perfectly still.
Still is safe.
Still means I won’t have to acknowledge the horrible truth of what Saint Angelle does to me.
“How’s it different?” I narrow my eyes and bare my teeth. “Torture is torture, though mine has been far more mental than poor Nick’s.”
“I don’t give a fuck about Nick Reynolds, only that my name isn’t associated with shit I didn’t do.”
His angry confession catches me off guard.
Does that mean he gives some kind of fuck about me?
For a long moment, I can’t look away from him, and I don’t bother to fight his hold. Silence falls between us, heavy with our angry words and burning glares. His fingers have stopped their descent, but he’s not removing them. It feels like a magnet is trying to pull me into him, and when he lowers his head, I don’t say a word to dissuade him.
A sudden clattering noise down the hall snaps me out of my self-destructive stupor.
“Fuck,” he growls, loosening his hold on me so that when I push away from him, I escape easily.
I hear the squeaking wheels of a mop bucket and realize a janitor’s heading our way. Pivoting away from him, I’m ready to make a break for it, but his next words stop me in my tracks with their threat.
“Don’t think this is over, Ellis.” When I glance back over my shoulder, his eyes are locked on me. “We’re far from finished.”
His expression frightens me as much as it arouses me. He looks like he wants to swallow me whole and spit me back out again. I don’t think I’d survive being at his mercy.
Without a word, I give him my back and run from him and the dark promises in his eyes.
11
I double down on my efforts to ignore Saint after our unfortunate encounter at the pool. I pretend I don’t see him when I pass him by on campus and act as though I can’t hear when he calls my name or insults me. As far as he’s concerned, I’m an impenetrable fortress, immune to him and his sharp words.
In reality, I’m not immune at all.
The more I ignore him, the harder it is for me to get him out of my mind. I should be furious that he touched me, but I can’t forget how strong his fingers were—how good it felt to have them pressed into my sensitive skin. I hate myself for thinking this way, but I can’t help it. Saint’s like a bad rash that I just want to get rid of but is, at the same time, so satisfying to scratch.
The night after our run-in at the pool, I went back, because he was right—apparently, I really am a silly little masochist. I told myself it was because I refused to let him bully me out of my favorite hobby, but deep down in the blackest part of my soul, I think I was hoping he’d be there. It was a relief, both mentally and emotionally, when he wasn’t.
Unfortunately, neither was Liam.
I was surprised at how disappointed I was that he wasn’t there. The pool seemed too quiet without him splashing nearby, and when I took my breaks in between sets, I hung on the lane rope in silence, feeling strangely lonely.
When I returned the next night, there was still no Liam. Or the night after that. I began to look for him around campus as inconspicuously as I could so that it didn’t appear as though I were searching for Saint instead. In our English class, whenever I glanced his way, he was always looking anywhere but at me. I began to think he was purposefully ignoring me.
The thought … hurt.
A week passed, and I finally accepted that Liam wasn’t coming back to swim with me. The realization comes to me as I’m sitting on the edge of the pool, staring down into the water, feeling sorry for myself. I don’t really feel like swimming today, but still came in hopes that he might be here. He’s not, of course, which makes me feel foolish and pathetic. He’d made his loyalties perfectly clear when he’d shot down my request for help, but then when he’d saved me from the fire at the beach, I began to hope that maybe—just maybe—some small part of him actually cared.
I let out a sigh and wonder if I should just go back to my dorm and call it a night.
The sudden noise of the doors swinging open behind me has my heart racing with excitement as I whirl around to see who’s interrupted my alone time.
“Lia—?” His name dies on my lips when I see Saint striding toward me with an arrogant grin. I quickly push to my feet to face him, refusing to be at a disadvantage with him.
He stops in front of me and tilts his head, one light brown brow rising.
“You look disappointed, Ellis,” he rasps, then clutches dramatically at his chest. “You’re killing me.”
“What are you doing here?” He hasn’t bothered me here all week. He hasn’t really bothered me anywhere on campus, and I’d hoped my strategy to ignore him was working.
“How else am I supposed to get your attention? You’ve really left me no choice but to hunt you down. I don’t like having to hunt down anything.”
“Why?” Why me? Why is he so obsessed with making me miserable?
He chuckles. “I told you, you’re mine to do with as I please. I don’t need another reason.”
I want to scream at him that he does fucking need another reason for making my life a living hell, but I keep my lips sealed. It’s what he wants, after all. For me to make a scene and show him just how deep his claws are sunk into me.
I won’t let you win, you bastard.
He glances around the room before turning his gaze back on me.
“Seems … quiet in here.”
My nostrils flare with my agitated breaths. “What does that mean? Were you expecting a marching band or something?”
Casting me a tight smile, he begins walking in a slow circle around me. “You must be lonely here since your fuck buddy stopped coming in for his nightly jackoff.”
My heart begins pounding so loudly, I hear it in my ears. “What the hell are you talking about?” I demand. Has Liam been spreading rumors about me?
Saint stops moving when he’s standing behind and leans down so his mouth is right at my ear. “Did it feel good? Getting fucked by him? Did he make you come, Ellis? Did you scream his name while he—”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I spin around in my rage to face him, and too late realize he’s still leaning down close to me. My breath hitches. We’re mere centimeters apart from each other, and I stiffen, horrified by how tempted I am to close the distance between our bodies.
He’s glaring death at me, and I don’t understand why he’s so angry, no more than I understand the electricity pulsing in my veins thanks to his proximity. He doesn’t move back. He stays close as he demands, “What do you miss more? Liam’s cock? His tongue? What about his fingers?”
I let out a squeak when his hand reaches around and cups one of my butt cheeks, his fingers digging under my swimsuit. His touch is rough and possessive. I almost lose my balance and fall into his chest. I’m overwhelmed by everything he’s saying and doing, and it takes me several seconds to come up with any type of response.
“I-I’m not … I’m not sleeping with Liam,” I stutter, then wince at how breathless I sound.
“Liar.” His voice rumbles like distant thunder, and I shiver.
“If he’s been telling people—”
“He hasn’t,” he cuts me off. “I’m just not an id
iot.”
I lick my lips and try to understand what is happening here. Why is he doing this to me? Why’s he so pissed off at the idea of me and Liam together? Because he hates me so much? Because he doesn’t want his friend tainting himself with the trash he wants gone?
Then why’s he touching me like this?
“A-are you … jealous, Saint?”
My question is a whisper that shocks us both. He stares down at me with wide eyes, and I’m frozen in place as I wait for him to say something in response.
At last, his eyes narrow to icy slits.
“Why the fuck would I be jealous of Liam railing your skinny ass?”
“I don’t know, Saint. Why would you be jealous?” I feel strangely bold as I meet his gaze. I don’t know why, but maybe it has something to do with his hand on my ass and his lips hovering over mine. He’s tense, like he’s holding himself back from something, and it’s taking a considerable amount of strength to do so.
“You’re a little cock-tease, aren’t you, little masochist?”
He’s avoiding answering me, insulting me instead. I’m onto his game, though. I’m beginning to see the cracks in his armor. If I chip at them long enough, will I shatter him?
“Is that why you fuck with me?” I murmur, letting my hand fall to his thigh. His whole body goes rigid at my touch, and his jaw tightens. “You want me all to yourself?”
His rips his hand from my ass only to wrap his fingers around my throat. He doesn’t choke me, but it’s just like the times he’s grabbed my hair. He’s trying to remind me who’s really in charge here.
I refuse to cower in front of him, though. Instead of shrinking away from his grip, I inch my hand higher up his leg. His fingers tighten ever so slightly, and we’re stuck in a wicked game of chicken as we push each other. When his thumb strokes my bottom lip, my mouth falls open slightly.
“It’d be better for you to stay away from Liam,” he snarls. “I don’t share well, and until I’m done with you, no one else is allowed to touch you, and you’re not allowed to put your trailer trash mouth on anyone else.”
“You can’t tell me what to do,” I insist, but a voice whispers in the back of my mind that he can.
He tilts my chin up, and for one terrible but thrilling moment, I think he might actually do it. He might actually kiss me.
“You need to learn your place.” Instead of lowering his lips to mine, he dips his mouth to my ear once more, his voice a low hum as he whispers, “If you don’t like it, you know what you have to do.”
“You already know my answer to that.” He’s not scaring me away. Not now. Not ever. I won’t let him, Liam, my mom, or anyone take Angelview and the future it will provide me away.
To my surprise, he pulls away grinning. “You’re stubborn as fuck, but damn, it’s entertaining. Goodnight, little masochist.”
As I stare at him, stunned, he lets me go and steps away from my touch. I feel cold despite the warmth of the room. Tucking his hands into the pockets of his swim trunks, he turns and struts from the room, whistling as he goes.
The moment he walks out the door and is out of sight, my knees give out and I sink to the floor. I can’t believe I said those things to him. I can’t believe I stood up to him like that.
The laughter that escapes me is crazed and uncontrollable, and I know that, at last, I’ve lost my mind.
I’m over my hysterics by class the next day, and when I get to gym, I’m not dreading it. I feel almost invincible after my face-off with Saint, and I march into class with my head held high.
Laurel is the first to notice my boost in confidence, and it calls to her like blood to a hungry shark. “You’re looking rather pleased with yourself, welfare baby,” she sneers, sauntering up behind me as I stretch out in the corner. “I can’t possibly see why, though. If I were you, I don’t think I’d be able to get out of bed in the morning.”
I turn to her with a smirk. Her words don’t sting quite so bad today because I know she’s just jealous and lashing out.
“Laurel, I’ve been meaning to ask, are you always such a bitter cunt or is it just because Angelle won’t let you suck his dick anymore?”
Her eyes go wide and her friends around her all gasp and appear horrified. A couple guys nearby who overheard my comments burst out into laughter.
“Shut your mouth, you nasty slut,” Laurel hisses through her teeth. Her face is bright red and I can read the helpless rage in her eyes. “You don’t know anything—”
“Oh, I know plenty, L.” I cross my arms and lift one eyebrow as I stare her down. “I see the way you hang all over him, no matter how much he ignores you. Sure, you may be good for a quick BJ when he’s bored or can’t find anyone else, but you’ve fallen pretty far from girlfriend status, haven’t you? You’re just a side-piece he calls when his dick hurts and he’s desperate.”
“I’ll ruin you, bitch!” Laurel lunges toward me.
“What’s going on here, ladies?”
She freezes just before she sinks her talons into my upper arms, and we both turn to find Saint and Gabe strolling toward us. Gabe appears to be barely containing his laughter, his green eyes shimmering with amusement, and Saint looks as arrogant as ever, his shrewd gaze quickly taking in me and his ex.
“Saint,” she breathes, turning to fully face him. “Babe, you need to do something about this bitch. Do you know what she just said to me?”
“Pretty sure the whole gym just heard her,” he drawls in a dry voice. Gabe chuckles and shakes his head. “Fuck off, L.”
Her smug grin dies on her lips and her blond bob swishes around her face when her head snaps back. “Wait, are you talking to me?” He bobs his head slowly, and Laurel’s face drains of color. She stares at him, dumbstruck. “Wh-what? Why should I—”
He levels her with a glare that makes me shiver. “I said. Fuck. Off.”
Stiffening her spine, Laurel churns her teeth. “Fine. I was done with this cunt anyway.”
Shooting me a death stare, she turns and storms away, her posse of Trust Fund Barbie’s in tow. I’m left alone with Saint and Gabe, and I’m feeling slightly less confident than before.
“Can I help you?” I snap, my eyes bouncing between the two.
Saint’s lips curl at the corners. God, why does this evil bastard have to look so good when he does that? “Getting a little cocky, are we, Ellis?”
Playing with the hem of my t-shirt, I shrug. “Just putting your girl in her place.”
“You better be careful,” Gabe says, stepping forward and leaning his elbow on Saint’s shoulder. “Laurel may be a bitch, but she’s a vindictive one. She’ll make you pay for humiliating her.”
I blink, my head spinning. Why is he giving me a warning? Wouldn’t Laurel taking her wrath out on me make both of their days? Besides, what can she do that she hasn’t already done?
“Whatever, she doesn’t scare me,” I murmur. “Hell, she should be scared of me. Maybe you all should.”
“I don’t think that’ll ever happen, sweetheart,” Gabe laughs as Saint steps closer and pinches my chin between his fingers, tilting my face up so I’m forced to meet his gaze.
“Watch your ass, Ellis. If Laurel kills you, I’ll lose my favorite toy. That’ll really piss me off.”
It’s hard to breathe or think clearly when he’s so close to me. I rip my chin from his grasp and take a step back. His grin is wicked, as if he knows what’s going through my head, but he keeps the distance I’ve put between us.
“Like I said, I’m not scared of her.”
Mr. Norris blows his whistle at that moment, and I send up a silent prayer of thanks. I shove past Saint and Gabe and hurry to line up for the day’s instruction, putting as much space between us as I can manage.
I’ve almost forgotten about Laurel’s threat when I step out of the shower in the girl’s locker room after gym. Just about everyone is already gone, which is just how I like it. I pad my way to my locker and open it to grab my clothes. I tense when I
don’t find them on top of my bag inside. My heart begins to race with panic as I frantically search for them, even upending my backpack onto the floor in case I stuffed them inside and forgot.
They’re nowhere to be found.
My clothes are gone.
And I know exactly who took them.
“Looking for these?”
My shoulders tense and I slowly turn to face Laurel. She’s standing by the locker room door, my uniform clutched in her hands, an evil grin plastered on her face.
“Give those back,” I snarl.
She laughs. “Like hell. You want them? Come and get them, whore.”
Rage blurs my vision, and I charge forward. I think I take her momentarily by surprise, because her mouth drops into a shock “O” shape. She gathers her wits enough to turn and run out the door, but I chase her without thought all the way back up to the gym. Her friends are waiting, howling like monkeys as I rush after her in nothing but a towel. She comes to a halt in the safe circle of her minions and waves my uniform over her head, taunting me.
“What’s the matter, Mallory? Don’t sluts prefer being naked?”
“Drop them, Laurel.” The urge to hurt her is overwhelming, and I want to make her feel as humiliated as she’s making me in this moment.
She throws my black knee socks at me, then tosses the rest of my clothes in the air, piece by piece, like fucking confetti. When there’s nothing left put my panties, she swings them over her head before launching them at me. Her friends act like this is the most hilarious thing they’ve ever seen in their damn lives.
“Come on, Mallory, give us a peek of the goods,” she sneers, stepping forward to grab at my towel. “What’s got Saint and the boys so goddamn hot for you? What’s so fucking special about you?”
I don’t think. Instinct takes over completely, and I throw my fist at her as hard as I can. I connect with her nose and she goes flying backwards, landing on her ass on the floor, blood streaming down her face. She releases an ear-shattering scream as she cups her hands over her nose and begins to cry. Her friends all appear horrified, hovering around her, but not a single one of them is certain what they can do to help.