Page 55 of The Tenth Circle
I lookanywherebut at him, acknowledginganythingbut the flexed muscles of his torso and the whiplash brought on by his fluctuating moods.
He seems to do the same, except with my entire presence.
Saint’s in full blown song as he buttons his jeans, singing “Take Me Back to Eden” by Sleep Token.
While belting out the chorus, the only indicator he’s aware I’m still here is when he retrieves my gun off the table.
I swallow the dryness in my throat, unsure how to proceed since my brain is stuck in some sort of analysis paralysis.
“You know, Jimi…” Saint announces, picking up his Yankee fitted. “This may come as a shocker, but I’ve developed quite a strong…liking…to you.”
Other than creased eyebrows, I got nothing…
His gaze darts to me. “What? It’s true.”
What the hell am I supposed to say? Other than it’s straight crap? All Saint wanted this year was to torture the only girl in school he couldn’t get. Anything more has been a byproduct of our best friends endgaming it.
I’m in no position to argue, though, especially when I have no ideawhoI’m arguing with.
So, I’ll bite.
Well,nibble.
“Okay…what’s your point?”
“My point is…whenI like someone…I do everything in my power to show them how much.” Saint flips the hat in the air, smoothing it backwards when it lands on his head. “My words, actions, resources. Loyalty to the cause. They never leave ’em guessing where I stand.” Casually he approaches, stopping at my side to lean closer. Then, after a brief pause, he whispers, “Same rules apply to those I hate.”
Before I can even digest the end of that sentence, Saint shoves the stun gun into my chest. “Here. Next time lead with the bigger one.”
I spin around as Saint resumes his exit, outraged by how much of a full blown narcissist this guy is.
According to Saint’s warped psyche, he’s allowed to mindfuck. Sneak. Lie. Tease. Push me way past my breaking point. Hurt my friends. But…thesecondI manage to either A—get under his skin, or B—one up him, he plays some sort of victim.
Saint isn’t a victim. He’s a fucking terrorist.
And I’d be safer without him in my life.
Just as his hand touches the doorknob, I shout, “Is that your way of saying you hate me?”
Saint looks back at me over his shoulder, and through a half-grin sharp as glass, he responds, “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”
7
SAINT
“So, you gonna tell me what’s got you wound up so tight or what?” Seven, a.k.a. Annalie, questions, perched next to me on the bed in nothing but a bra.
It’s no secret I had a bit of a rough night.
She knows it.
Theory and the guys know it.
Hell, even Rosa, the maid who stood idly by as I destroyed every inch of my room, fucking knows it.
Hendrix showing up in The Pit came as no surprise after what I did to her precious pup.
In fact, I was waiting for the moment she’d stomp her sexy ass into my personal space, guns blazing—demanding answers, apologies, even a fucking limb.
