After this, it might.
I twist in unfamiliar bedsheets, trying to fight my way free of him.
But he’s close. Too close.
Movement in the room stills me in the too-big bed. How did he make it here so fast? He can’t take me back. No, I’m supposed to be safe here. At least for a little while longer.
I sit up, a scream swelling at the back of my throat when a hand covers my mouth and warm breath shushes me in my ear.
6
SIN
I can’t sleep. It has me pacing the halls, cigarette in hand, listening to the low rumble of bikes outside.
My thoughts are sharp and bitter. Saint’s bringing trouble under our roof again.
After that display at our door with her damned violin, all the men are in an uproar. The idea of Saint, and therefore Sanctuary, tying themselves to some trembling rich girl—it’s crawling under my skin.
I’m just going to go check on things.
And yet, I walk straight to Saint’s door. He’s not in there, instead camping out in his office like a coward.
If I were him, I’d be in there. May as well get something out of the exchange. And it looked like she had plenty to offer. Curvy in all the right places. That fiery red hair and pale skin. The way those big, innocent eyes screamed to be corrupted. Defiled.
I dig a knuckle into the center of my chest.
You don’t go near your brother’s woman, Sin.
She’s not his woman.
Not yet.
I’m just curious. I want to understand the draw of this woman.
She’s soft, scared, and too breakable for our world. She won’t come out of this unscathed.
I clench my jaw, grinding my molars as the rush ofdesirehits me again. I want to be a little rough with her.
Yet, that song she played repeats in my head. The look on her face as she drew that bow across those strings as I held the gun on her. Those soaring notes…they hooked their claws into me, and now I can’t help but remember all of the things I’ve given up because of the life I’ve had: innocence, music, peace.
I pause outside the door, leaning in to listen. There’s a gasp and a soft cry of distress.
Movement has me opening the door and stepping in. If one of the men took it upon themselves to get a taste before she could officially tie herself to Saint, I’ll break their goddamn necks.
But she’s alone, thrashing against the bed, fighting something invisible to me.
When she stills, I hold my breath.
Then she bolts up in the bed, her intake of breath the precursor for a scream. I clamp my hand over her mouth and lean in to hush her.
She’s stiff, terrified. Good. She should be.
I take in the scent of this woman—something sweet and powdery and mixed with man. Saint. My instincts grow dark and red, especially as she trembles under my touch.
I loosen my grip on her mouth, thumb brushing over her mouth in a tease. “Easy. Not him. You’re safe.”
She pushes me back, and I let my hand drop. “Don’t touch me.”
