Page 85 of Saint

I tell myself that’s why I’m here—in his room alone with him again.

I tell myself it means nothing when he doesn’t respond, and I walk up to where he’s standing in front of the bed.

I tell myself I’m not affected by his pine forest body wash or how close he is, wearing a simple pair of sweatpants.

It’s all lies.

And when he reaches up and grabs me by the throat to pull me closer—holding me tight enough to tug me to him without cutting off my air—I lose my breath anyway.

“We’ll discuss it when I say we do.”

I start to roll my eyes, but his grip tightens, snapping my gaze back to his.

“Kole.” It’s a plea through my irritation, and I hate how he’s capable of forcing that from me. “I need to know what you meant.”

My lips press tight, and I swallow my nerves. The motion of my throat bobbing against his palm has his gaze drifting down to my neck. His grip tightens the slightest bit, and I wish I didn’t love how everything I do makes him feral.

After his confessions tonight, I should hate him. And when he first admitted the truth about the trials and why Liam started dating me, I did.

But more than anything, I was hurt. And when he tore the blindfold off to reveal Declan standing across the room, fury was just one more emotion mixed into the waves already crashing inside me.

Hate, lust, rage, devastation.

I watched him talk to Declan as I drank my water and tried to sift through the tornado of feelings ripping through my chest. I tried to make sense of them and cling to my anger. But the longer I sat there, the more it all bled together until I was left with a single truth.

Kole thinks his actions are proof of unwavering devotion. They’re his way of showing affection when all he understands is inflicting pain.

Everything he did tonight—no matter how disturbing or hurtful—was him trying to prove to me that he cares about me.

Which is why, even if I know I should have run home the moment he walked me out of that basement, I didn’t.

Kole letting Declan into that room with us wasn’t punishment. It wasn’t even jealousy. It’s the only way he knows how to hold onto someone—by clinging so tight everything around them shatters. He doesn’t understand emotion or how to vocalize to Declan to stay away from me, so he uses physical examples instead.

Pain.

Sex.

Kole’s methods of caring hurt both of us.

But instead of pulling away when he holds my throat tighter, I rest my hand on his chest. I place my trust in his palms. Knowing that whatever he inflicts, I can handlebecause it’s him.

His breath hitches at my touch when he so rarely allows it.

I graze my palm over his skin and trace his hard muscles until my fingers reach the seven slashes carved below one collarbone.

“I don’t understand why you’d do this for them,” I whisper, barely tracing the still-healing gash. “What does Sigma House offer that would make any of this worth it?”

“It’s not about what they offer. It’s what we owe to be here.” Kole reaches for my hand and traces my finger over the second cut in.

“What’s this mark for?” I ask when he traces my finger down it again.

“It’s the reason I trust Declan.”

Kole releases my throat. He sinks onto the bed and pulls me with him so my back is to his front and he’s spooning me. It’s gentle and confusing as he buries his face in my wet hair.

“You trust him because of a trial?”

“Yes.”

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