Eden

7

After Saint hauls me out of the pool, I follow him back through Liam’s house, leaving a puddle of shame in my wake. I can feel everyone’s eyes searing into us as we walk by, and when I shiver both from cold and embarrassment, Saint drapes his arm around my shoulders and tugs me against his side. He at once warms and shields me, and I don’t know how to react. So, I tuck my head and press closer into him, ignoring the murmurs and snide remarks that surround us as he ushers me out of the house and towards his shiny black Range Rover. He doesn’t say a word as he opens the passenger side door for me and nods irritably to my seat.

Once I’m settled, he stalks around the SUV to slide into the driver’s seat and fires up the engine. He still doesn’t talk to me as we pull out of Liam’s driveway and make our way into traffic.

It’s not long before the silence becomes unbearable, and I blurt out, “What did you mean when you talked to Liam about getting his shit together? What happened last time?”

His jaw tenses, and he glares straight ahead at the red blur of brake lights. “Doesn’t matter. It calmed him down, didn’t it?”

“Saint—”

“Let it go, Mallory.”

“I didn’t intend to end up with him like that.” I don’t know why I feel the need to explain myself. How many times have I told him he can’t tell me what I can do or who I can’t hang out with? Yet I strangely feel…guilty.

For some inexplicable reason, I want him to know that it wasn’t my fault that I ended up in the pool with Liam.

“Whatever,” he growls. “Like I give a fuck.”

But he does. It’s so obvious that the air inside the car crackles with tension.

“Can’t you just tell me what last time meant?”

This time, he doesn’t bother to respond to me at all. He continues to keep his focus on the road and we fall into an icy silence. Releasing a huff of frustration, I turn my gaze out my side window and count down the minutes until we’re back on campus. If he’s going to be a moody dick, I don’t want to deal with him.

Hell, I shouldn’t want to deal with him at all considering all the shit he’s put me through.

And yet, here I am.

I spot the corner we need to turn at to continue on to Angelview coming up, but he doesn’t slow down. To my surprise, he speeds right past it, and a nervous knot forms in my stomach.

“Where are we going, Saint?” I murmur, glancing toward him.

He doesn’t answer. He still won’t even look at me.

“Saint.” This time, my voice is firmer. “Where the fuck are we going?”

Instead of speaking, he goes faster, and my heartbeat accelerates. I know he won’t hurt me, but he has other ways he can torment me if he wants to punish me. My breathing grows heavy, and I gulp down the pressure in the back of my throat.

“Saint! Answer me!”

“Shut up,” he snarls, but that’s it. He doesn’t offer an explanation, and I’m getting more anxious by the second.

At length, I realize exactly where we’re going all on my own, and my panic goes into overdrive. I spin around in my seat to face him fully, grasping his bicep with both my hands.

“No, please. Saint, I don’t want to go there.”

“It’ll be fine,” he insists, almost dismissively.

“Saint, I’m serious!” But it’s too late. We’re already pulling up to his family’s beach house, and I tremble with dread. I haven’t been here since the morning after his birthday party, and after everything I’ve learned about his family—and mine—since then, I had no intention of ever going back. This is the last place in the entire world I want to be.

It’s the last place I think I’ll ever feel safe, even with Saint.

He circles the massive driveway and parks the SUV right in front of the double doors then moves to get out.

“Come on,” he orders.

“No.” He pauses and glances back at me. I glare at him as I continue, “Take me back to campus right now. Why would you bring me here after everything that’s happened?”

He stares down at me for several long moments, before spitting out, “Either hitchhike back, or come inside. It’s your choice, Ellis.”

Slamming the car door shut, he storms to the front door of the house without a backwards glance. I’m shocked to my core, to be perfectly honest. I’d expected him to be cold, I even expected him to be cruel, but this … this is inhumane. I sit stewing in his car, determined not to go in.

Maybe I’ll call his bluff and hitchhike home after all.

Except it’s dark and I’m not all that interested in getting assaulted by a stranger today.

I’m not going to go in, though. Saint can go fuck himself. I’m not going in. I’m not.

After about thirty minutes—when I conveniently discover that my phone is dead—I throw back my head and cry out in frustration.

“Fuck you, Angelle,” I groan to abso-fucking-lutely no one.

When I walk inside his house, I immediately sense that something’s off. Everything seems alright at first glance, but there’s a thin layer of dust on the entryway table. For any other household, that wouldn’t be a big deal, but here it seems so out of place.

My eyes land on Saint, sitting on the bottom step at the staircase, his brow furrowed.

“What?” he snaps.

“It’s dusty.”

He shrugs. “So?”

“You’ve got round the clock housekeeping and staff,” I say, as if that should be explanation enough.

His eyes flash with irritation as he shoves to his feet. “Those were my parents’ employees. The house is mine now, and I didn’t need them talking shit behind my back and judging me.” He takes a step closer to me. “Just like you don’t need your phone while you’re here.”

Before I can stop him, he slides his hand into my back pocket and fishes out my cell.

“What are you doing?” I snap, lunging for my phone, but he holds it over his head and out of my reach.

I mean, it’s dead anyway, but I still feel naked and vulnerable without it, especially here in Hell House.

“I don’t need you getting distracted while we’re here,” he says, grabbing my chin in his fingers and tilting my face up to his. “You’re going to tell me who killed Jon Eric.”

Swallowing hard, I squeeze my eyes shut while I mentally count to ten. When I open them, his intense glare is almost enough to blind me. “Why would you think I’d ever tell you that?” I demand, but my voice breaks on me.

His nostrils flare. “You’re either going to tell me like a goddamn adult or I’ll fuck the truth out of you.”

Holy shit. That’s even more outrageous than his demand that I snitch on scary ass Ghost. I stare at him, dumbstruck. “You’re not serious,” I finally say. “Torture by cock, Saint? Seriously?”

My pulse quickens at the gleam in his icy eyes. “Do you even have to ask me that?”

I let out a shriek when he bends down and wraps one arm around my legs, throwing me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing. Dangling helplessly, I beat at his back with my fists as he turns to the stairs to take us the second floor.

“Let me go!” I shout, kicking my legs.

His hand comes down hard on my ass. “Tell me the truth.”

I press my lips together and refuse.

He chuckles. “Fine, Ellis. My dick’s hard anyway.”

Making his way into his bedroom, he slips me down to the floor so I’m standing in front of him. I open my mouth, ready to rip him a new one, but his lips come crashing down onto mine and silence me. His kiss his fierce and dominating, and my body instantly melts for him as I let out a wispy little moan. His hands grip my ass as he grinds his growing erection against me. He’s overwhelming me, scrambling my mind so I can’t remember why this is a bad idea.