Malice

It’s weird how he’s defending me by deeply insulting me. I’m not sure whether to be infuriated or grateful to him and Rosalind.

“B-but Saint…” Laurel looks as though he’s just threatened to take away her favorite toy.

He narrows his eyes at her, and when he speaks, his voice is steel. “I said back the fuck off.”

She releases a little gasp, but wisely snaps her mouth shut and slowly nods.

“As a matter of fact, everyone can back the fuck off!” he barks, turning his rage on the silent crowd around us. Like cockroaches suddenly exposed to light, everyone scatters, including Rosalind’s fan club. I guess they reached the limits of their courage.

Laurel lingers, but not for long. She gazes at Saint with such longing, it makes me nauseous. How can she still want him so badly after how he’s toyed with her?

“Piss off, L,” Gabe hisses at length.

Her nostrils flare, and she looks like she wants to object, but she obediently turns and flounces off.

When I’m certain everyone has wandered away, I sit up and take stock of myself. I have aches and sore spots all over my body from being hit with various objects, and there’s one particularly tender spot on my cheek that I’m pretty certain is going to bruise.

“Here.” When I look up, I’m surprised that the hand extended toward me is pale and feminine, with manicured pink nails, but I accept it. Rosalind doesn’t look at me again once I’m on my feet, but I don’t blame her.

Because she was wrong. She shouldn’t trust Saint around me and that makes me feel like shit.

Before I can murmur a thank you, Liam steps between us, a muscle spasming in his jaw as he asks, “You all right?”

“I’m fine,” I lie. I’m not fine. Not even a little, but I’m not about to break down in this place.

I glance toward Saint and am surprised by how angry he looks. His eyes are locked on my hand, which is still resting in Liam’s grip. Jealous again?

He doesn’t have a right to be.

Just like I shouldn’t care when he wraps his arm around Rosalind’s shoulder and whispers something in her ear that makes her eyes snap wide before she gives him a slow nod.

Swallowing, I turn my gaze back up to Liam.

“I think I’m going to go,” I murmur.

He nods, his eyes soft as he gives my fingers a squeeze.

“That’s probably a good idea,” he says. “If I were you, I’d just take the rest of the day to myself.”

It’s not a bad idea. I shoot him a small, thankful smile, then draw my hand from his. I don’t look at Rosalind or Saint again as I turn to walk out of the hall, but I can feel his eyes boring into me with every step I take.