Page 27 of Soulless Saint

Because Kaleb wasn’t looking at Toby.

He was looking at me.

“I’m going to head out,” I announced, wincing at the disappointment in Toby’s expression. I was being an absolute shit wingwoman, but judging by the way Kaleb was watching me, poor Toby didn’t have a chance with him anyway.

“Awe, okay, babe. Get home safe, yeah? I’ll be right behind you.”

He drew me in for a kiss on the cheek, and I ducked past him with a hasty see you back at the apartment, making a beeline for the front door.

I got about halfway, swallowed up by the throng of drunk students, when someone stepped in front of me. “Whoa,” I said, sidestepping her. “I almost ran right into you.”

She mirrored my step, blocking my path and I cocked my head at her, taking in all five foot five of slender body and pushed-up tits. She flicked her red hair back from her face and stared me down with eyes too small for her face. “Maybe you should stay in your lane, then, honey.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t belong here.”

I lifted my brows, almost letting out a laugh, stopping only because I saw what was clipped to the front pocket of her jeans. A pocket knife. Too shiny and new to have ever been used, but I wasn’t about to give her an excuse to dirty it.

“Good thing I was on my way out, then,” I quipped, shouldering past her.

“Hey, valley-girl,” she called after me, her nasally tone like a lash against my last fucking nerve. I stopped, but didn’t turn, too afraid I wouldn’t be able to contain what came out of my mouth next.

“Forget this address. If I see you here again—”

I didn’t let her complete the thought, rolling my eyes as I exited the house. She didn’t need to finish whatever bullshit threat she was about to sling at me. There was no way I was coming back to this house again.

The instant the cooler outside air hit me, filling my lungs, the tension in my shoulders eased.

I walked quickly toward the road, eager to put space between myself and every lousy person at that party save for Toby.

Numbly, I fingered my phone from my boot before wrapping my free arm around myself. I flicked a finger over the screen, swiping until I found the Uber app, I got it open just a second before my phone lit up with a low battery warning, shut down the app, and the screen went black.

I tapped the screen, nothing.

“Shit.”

I pressed down hard on the side button.

“No. No, no, no.”

I tapped again, uselessly before groaning loudly, not caring who heard me as I pushed it back down into my boot. The party raged across the street, and I considered going back in, asking Toby to order me an Uber, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I just wanted to go back to the apartment, wash off the warm leather and musk scent still clinging to my skin. Rinse the honey and whiskey flavor from my mouth.

The last thing I needed was to get involved with another bad boy. Because that worked out so well last time. I should’ve been learning from the mistakes that got my mom killed, not repeating them.

As if on cue, the scar on my chest, right over my heart, ached deeply, making me clutch at it, gritting my teeth.

“Want a ride?” The smooth, accented voice asked over the low rumble of an engine. Sitting in the driver’s seat with his arm slung out the window was a guy I didn’t remember seeing at the party, but to be fair, I’d been more than a little distracted.

I squinted past him, but there was no one else in the car with him. Just long leather seats that looked pristine despite the fact that the car itself was a classic. A black impala sleek enough to swipe the panties off any girl who dared step inside.

“Pass,” I blurted. “But, thanks.”

“I’m headed back to the Row,” he persisted, that accent caressing my ears. What was that? Not British. Scottish? No. Irish. Yes, definitely Irish. “It’s no trouble, and I don’t bite.”

His smile said differently.

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