Page 78 of There Are No Saints

“What’s the difference?”

“There’s only one devil.”

He smiles. Cole’s real smile is very different from the one he gives to everyone else. It’s slower. It doesn’t crinkle up his eyes. And it ends with him biting down on the edge of his lip. Hard.

“You left a gift in my office.”

The chill runs from the base of my skull, all the way down my spine. I try not to flinch. I try not to let him see how hard my heart is pounding.

“How did you like it?” I say, tilting up my chin.

Cole steps closer, slipping his right hand under my hair, gripping the back of my skull. With his thumb, he forces my chin up even further.

“I didn’t like it at all. In fact, it made me jealous.”

My skin goes from chilled to burning hot, all in an instant. My nipples stiffen under the thin material of my top. The rings stay cold like ice.

He’s jealous. He’s admitting that he’s jealous.

Cole runs his thumb across my lower lip. My sweat is gasoline. Every place he touches ignites on fire.

I hear a sharp click and the cold clasp of a manacle closing around my wrist.

Before I can move, before I can even glance down at my own wrist, Cole takes three swift steps, dragging me toward the wall. He yanks my arms over my head and handcuffs me in place, the chain wrapped around an exposed pipe.

“What the fuck!?” I shriek.

I yank on the cuffs, the metal biting into my wrists.

“This will go a lot smoother if you hold still,” Cole says.

He plucks the paintbrush out of my hand, setting it aside.

“Whatwill go smoother? What the fuck are you doing?” I cry.

I’m starting to hyperventilate. The wrist ties are bringing back horrible memories, all in a rush.

Cole doesn’t answer me.

Instead, he pulls over a stool and sets down the bag he was carrying—a black leather bag that opens at the top like an old-fashioned doctor’s satchel.

He unclips the straps of my overalls, letting the bib fall down to my waist. Then he grabs the front of my tank top with both hands, ripping it apart. My breasts fall free, nipples rock hard, chest bared to his view.

We both look down, staring at my tits. At the silver rings with a single bead in the center, glinting like the rain in Cole’s hair.

His gaze crawls down my body. To the tattoo on my ribs.

“Logan did that to you,” Cole says softly.

It’s not a question.

“How do you know that?” I demand.

Cole rests his hand against the wall, leaning close, his lips almost touching the rim of my ear. Almost, but not quite.

“I know everything about you, Mara.Everything,”he murmurs. “I know you fucked him to defy me. To show me that I can’t control you. And maybe I can’t control you—not all the time. But you were given to me.”

I wasgivento him?

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