Eden

1

I rip at the corners of my bedding, sweeping the crisp white sheets from the mattress and throwing them across the floor where they land in a heap by my dresser. I shove the mattress up to look underneath. When I find nothing, I climb on my hands and knees and check under the bed, like I’m searching for a monster.

I guess I am. Or at least, something fucked-up that a monster left behind.

Once again, though, there is nothing there except a shoe and a few dust bu

“Shit!” I snarl, launching to my feet and sca

There has to be something here. A camera or some type of recorder. Ghost had said as much, and even though I don’t trust him, I know I can trust that. Even now, I can’t shake the feeling that every single move I make is being watched.

It’s barely dawn, but I haven’t been able to sleep. Not since I got back from Saint’s dorm room on the other side of campus. Instead, I’ve been turning my room upside down, combing for something that might not even be here, no matter how convinced my gut is of it. And the worst thing about it all? That there’s a part of me that acknowledges that I’m just trying to keep my mind off Saint. Not the fact that I’m not Mallory Ellis—not truly, at least—but Saint-Fucking-Angelle.

The boy who has pulled at my threads, mercilessly unraveling me, since the moment I first laid eyes on him.

The boy who has destroyed me. Saved me. And then, while my wounds were still raw and bleeding, went back to repeat his vicious cycle.

Fucking Saint.

Last night, he told me he owns me, and today, those words have never felt truer.

Despite my best efforts, my mind wanders back to our exchange in his room the night before.

“You’ve said you own me plenty of times before,” I snapped after his bold declaration, scrambling off his bed and nearly tripping over his bedspreads as I tried to put some space between us. “It’s meant shit then, and it means shit now.”

But my heart hammered, threatening to burst from my ribcage.

Saint’s lips quirked, his arrogance infuriating me, even as I felt a treacherous pulse between my legs. “Mallory, it’s always meant something. You just haven’t accepted it yet, but now you don’t have a choice, do you?”

He was wrong. There was always a choice, and every time I let myself fall into his vicious trap, my choices were dead wrong.

“You’re mine, little masochist,” he said, as if to drive his point home.

My nostrils flared. I should’ve known he would try to hold what he did over my head. Use it as blackmail to force me to bend to his will.

Maybe I should’ve just turned myself in, let the police arrest me for doing absolutely nothing but trying to fit in at this hellhole.

Prison seemed like a fucking cakewalk when I compared it to being beholden to Saint Angelle.

“So what?” I spat out. “Because you think you own me, you think I’ll do whatever you want? Well, if you’re going to try and use this as leverage to get me to leave this school, you can forget it. That’ll never happen, so just quit while you’re ahead.”

Especially now that I realized that Carley and Je

His death wasn’t recent.

And a violent shudder coursed through me at the memory.

Saint advanced on me, looking like a golden god ready to crumble a tiny mortal in the palm of his hand. His steps were languid, his whole demeanor so relaxed, so cocky. He was acting like what he did was no big deal, and maybe it wasn’t to him. Maybe disposing of Jon Eric’s body wasn’t a bother for him at all. It didn’t seem to be weighing on his conscience in any way.

I wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but before I could wrap my mind around his attitude, he backed me up against the wall. Putting his hands on either side of my head, he leaned down so that his lips were right at my ear.

“I’ve done a terrible thing, Mallory,” he murmured, his tone laced with amusement. I swallowed a gasp when the tip of his tongue flicked the shell of my ear. “A terrible, awful thing, and I did it for you. If you want this secret to stay buried, you’re going to be a good, obedient girl for me, aren’t you?”

Good. Obedient. The words were like acid in my skull.

“Like fuck I am.”

I wrapped my hand around his jaw and shoved him back. That only seemed to excite him more, and his ice blue eyes flashed in that way that let me know he was getting turned on. And fuck me, that only made the tingle between my legs worse.

Dear God, what the hell was wrong with me?

“Did someone grow her spine back?” he teased, and I released his jaw, clenching my fists at my sides to keep from swinging on him.

Doing so would probably just finish the job of getting him rock hard.

“Fuck you, you arrogant piece of shit. You don’t have any leverage over me! You’re as screwed as I am if this gets out because you put yourself right in the middle of the mess. You know what you are now? An accessory.”

He raised an eyebrow, and damn if he didn’t look impressed.

“Fuck, you’re full of surprises tonight,” he growled, leaning back in to run his lips along the column of my throat. “It just makes me want to fuck you into submission.”

I pushed at his shoulders, resisting the haze he always managed to drag me into.

“Stop it.” He lifted his head but didn’t move away from me, so I pressed myself as close to the wall as I could. “How can you act this way after everything that’s happened?”

A shrug rolled off his broad shoulders. “Jon Eric was a piece of shit. I’m not going to lose any sleep over his death. Think about it, you probably just saved some poor drunk girl from being gang-raped at a frat party next year because you took out their fat fuck of a leader.”

His words—and the dramatic golf clap he offered me—shouldn’t have shocked me because I knew him and knew he meant every syllable that tumbled from his lips. Still, I was stu

I kind of wished I were able to do that. To not care. But I did. I cared a whole lot.

Someone was dead. And they were dead because of me.

Just like James, a voice deep inside me taunted.

“What did you do with Jon Eric’s body?” I asked on a shaky breath.

Finally, Saint stepped away, sucking a breath through his perfect teeth like I’d said something that inconvenienced him.

“Doesn’t matter.” His tone was hard and final. “It’s taken care of. That’s all you need to know.”

“Saint, please—”

“Hmm. I like when you say that word—please. But it’s not going to happen, Ellis.”

I glowered up at him for a long time, frustration and disappointment flowing through me as I came to terms with the fact that he wasn’t going to tell me shit.

In that moment, I realize how physically drained I was. I just wanted to go back to my room, hide under my covers, and sleep through the rest of this horrible nightmare of a weekend.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” I whispered, shoving away from the wall and moving around him toward the door. “I’m exhausted, anyway. I’m going home.”

His hand wrapped around my upper arm, and he yanked me back around. I gasped, slamming into his hard chest, where he trapped me by sliding his other arm around my waist.