Saint

“You know what?” I snarl. “You win. I’m leaving. I’m done with you and your psychotic bullshit.”

Spi

“It’s too late for that.” His voice is in my ear, husky with warning, as he presses himself against my back. He wraps around me, both hands flat against the door on either side of my head. He’s too hot, but my body wants to arch back into his anyway, as if to soak up that heat. I barely manage to resist. “You had your chance to leave. You didn’t take it. Now, you’re going to stay until I’m done with you.”

“Let me go you fucking—”

“Who’s James?”

I circle around to look at him and shove at his chest, but it doesn’t move him an inch. My palms can’t seem to leave him, though, and I press them against his hard pecs, my fingers curling so my nails dig into his skin.

“Nobody.” My voice his breathy, but furious, and I glare up at him with as much of my hate as I can muster.

“Liar.” He lowers his face until it’s even with mine. “I’m going to ask you one more time, Ellis, and I expect an answer. Who is James?”

“Go fuck yourself, Saint.”

“I’d rather fuck you.”

I scream in his face, because I don’t know what else to do. He’s evil and manipulative, but my body is growing wet and needy for him. I hate myself almost as much as I hate him. One of his hands digs into my hair and he yanks my head back, cutting off my blood-curdling scream with a brutal kiss that steals the last of my sanity.