PROLOGUE
Saint ~ Two Years Ago
The first time I saw him, it felt like a lightning strike. His aura electrified my chest like a physical force, knocking the wind clean out of me. But then, what did I expect when he was so beautiful that he grabbed me by the throat and squeezed?
Dark blond hair, longer on top and styled into a scruffy mohawk, and icy blue eyes glowing like gems under the stage lights. A square jaw, carved by Michelangelo himself with the obligatory smattering of stubble. His body was large and muscled, with thick thighs and a high ass that I knew would rock a pair of jeans. He held the kind of beauty that haunted a girl, but it wasn’t just that; it was the restlessness bubbling under his pretty tan skin that mesmerized me.
On the surface, he held halcyon-like control, but under the black suit, crisp shirt, and earpiece, I could sense his rawness. I knew with one glance that he could wield his power in a way that I’d find both terrifying and magnificent.
Something about him represented security in every sense of the word, and it wasn’t because that was his job. Just being around him made me feel safe.
My eyes closed at the thought of those big, muscular arms wrapping me in their warmth, and a shiver shook me from head to toe because I’d never experienced that feeling before.
Not ever.
Blue chips of ice slid my way, and I held my breath as they passed through me before veering back again, and my throat burned as his stare rested on mine, and everything inside me stilled.
I was a straight-up person who shot from the hip. Playing the mating game didn’t interest me. If I felt it, I acted on it, and that night was no exception. Maybe I should’ve blushed and allowed my gaze to skitter away coquettishly. Perhaps I should’ve smiled serenely and lowered my gaze to the ground before taking another glance up again to convey my interest.
But that wasn’t me.
Instead, my eyes held his, challenging him, while one side of my mouth hitched slightly. I wanted to know him, and I didn’t care to play coy. He’d passed the first hurdle by grabbing my interest, especially since not many men did these days. Now, I needed to see if he could handle me being my usual confident self.
He looked me up and down, and then my heart took a nosedive as his eyes drifted away.
My lungs expelled the air I’d almost suffocated myself with.
Well damn.
Maybe he just wasn’t that into me.
I wasn’t everybody’s type because I carried some extra weight. It never bothered me because why should it? I’d met the models everybody saw in magazines, and nobody could airbrush them in real life. I saw the smoke and mirrors and knew all the right angles to stand in and pose if I wanted the camera to catch my best angle. I was familiar with the extent of editing and photoshopping that went into making famous people perfect. Except perfection to me wasn’t about image. For me, it went deeper, so it was disappointing when a man who I felt an instant connection to dismissed me with one look.
I turned away, so caught up in the empty feeling in my chest that I didn’t notice him turn back to me. Therefore, I also didn’t see his lips quirk as his stare raked down my body, or his icy eyes glint like a cold winter frost when they rested on my ass as I gave him my back and walked away from him. My mind was already elsewhere, forming words and melodies because he’d made it so I couldn’t help myself.
Art was created when I was inspired.
That was my life, my everyday, and the consequence of having a poet’s soul. I felt things deep, even fleeting looks with beautiful men who I didn’t need to interact with to know they could have been something to me. Those things touched me in ways that made words erupt from my pen like a spitting volcano, its lava burning my soft poet’s soul.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my notebook and began scribbling words while simultaneously moving toward my dressing room.
Stage lights, sultry nights, halcyon ice blue.
Crowd chants, and your face haunts. Empty without you.
Lost pride, lost chance, lost love, lost souls.
Beyond my comprehension. Beyond my control.
Crowd chants, but your face haunts. I’m empty without you...
I was sointo the music playing inside my head, the cadence of the lyrics, and so completely caught up in the writing process that I didn’t sense anything was amiss. The words kept flowing, and I kept scribbling, not looking where I was going and completely unaware of my surroundings.
You mattered, though we had no time,
Invading my bones, though you were never mine.
Lost prize, lost luck, lost bet, lost wants,
