39. Saint
39
SAINT
I t’s been a full twenty-four hours since things got really hot and heavy with Vani in the field, and there was a moment I felt a real connection with her. That won’t do. She’s a plaything, that’s all, and I need to remember that. She makes me angry and hot for her at the same time, yet she also sometimes makes me feel like a god, in a way no other woman ever has. That shit could get addicting.
I’ve hidden the painting in my closet, but I keep opening the door so I can look at it all over again. Seeing it takes me right back to that fucking incredible time with her.
Now I’m lying on my back on my bed, one arm behind my head, and my thoughts full of her. It’s like I’m obsessed, and I can’t think of anything else.
My phone buzzes again, and I ignore it. It’s Lex, and I’m not in the mood for him right now.
Ten minutes later, he bursts in through my door. Now I wish I’d answered his message because here he is, and I don’t want to talk —not to him and not to Zane. I want to hang on to the afterglow of the time with Vani and keep it as my little secret just a bit longer. The minute they find out, she becomes ours again, not mine and mine alone.
“Fucker, I’ve been calling. Merde ! You never answer.” Lex huffs out an annoyed breath.
He’s been calling? I got the texts buzzing at me and annoying me like flies on shit, but no calls. Lazily, I reach for my phone and see he has indeed called, and I missed it.
“ Bah oui ,” I shrug, “I had it on silent and forgot.”
“Why? What have you been doing?”
I smirk at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
He narrows his eyes but says nothing. After considering me for a long beat, he shrugs. “Fine.”
His expression is nonchalant, and he’s almost smiling. It’s an expression that is his and his alone, or so far as I’m aware, because I’ve never seen it on me, either in the mirror or in photographs.
“You look ugly when you pull that face,” I say.
He shoots me the finger then stalks over to my closet and flings it open. I’m off the bed in a flash. “What are you doing?”
He shoots me a puzzled glance. “Getting my shirt back. Stop fucking taking my clothes. Have you pulled the trick on Vani again, ’cause I swear if – ”
His words die, and he stills in his movements.
Oh shit. He’s pulled my shirts to one side, and the portrait is staring at him. I wanted to keep that private. It feels too personal.
“What’s this?” Lex pulls it out of the closet and holds it up.
“It’s a painting,” I say stupidly. I’m not sure why he’s asking. He knows I paint.
Lex stares at it, and, in a rare moment for us, I realize I don’t know what he’s thinking. His face darkens as if storm clouds are passing over, then he lifts it high above his head. In a split second, I see the rage, but it’s too late.
With a snarl, he smashes the picture over the back of a nearby chair. I yell and lunge for it, horrified. It was more than just a painting; the picture held a part of my soul. It was how I see Vani when you strip away all the crap, all the hate, and anger, and fucked up weirdness I feel around her. And now he’s destroyed it.
“Motherfucker.”
I rush him, my shoulder colliding with his chest. He lets out an ‘ ouff ’ of shock, and I take him to the ground. We both land hard, my teeth cracking together and my bones jarring, but I don’t care. The rage I’ve been feeling building for weeks, rage that I can’t place and don’t fully understand, explodes.
We fight sometimes, the way most brothers do, but this is different. There’s real hatred in this moment between us. I deliver a swift blow to his jaw, and then get my hands around his throat. Physically, we’re perfectly matched, but right now my fury is greater than his.
“Why did you smash it?” I growl as I hold his head down by the throat.
He’s flailing for me, trying to get a grip in return. “That’s my version of her,” he pants.
I still, the words make no sense. “What?”
“The way you painted her. That’s my version. Yours is slutty and depraved. Mine is innocent. You stole my version of her.”
His words are so unhinged that I can’t reply for the longest time. In the end, lost for words, I reply with my fists and punch him in the ribs. He gives a growl of anger and swings back. His knuckles collide with my cheekbone, and my head rocks back. He seizes his moment and shoves me backward, so now I’m the one on my back. I lift my knee to kick him away, but he’s on top of me before I get the chance.
There’s little finesse in our fighting. Even though we’re both trained, I think deep down we know if we were to use our training, one or the other of us would get seriously hurt. We’re too evenly matched.
Instead, I use my words to hurt him, gasping them out between breaths and punches and kicks. “I fucked her after I painted her. She let me use her like a whore. She even told me she was mine.”
Lex glares at me, his blue eyes a darker shade—almost purple—and I wonder if mine are the same. “You lie!”
“You thought you were special because she chose you to take her virginity, but I’m the one she really wants.”
I shove him off and manage to drag myself far enough away to give me a chance to get to my feet. Lex does the same, so we’re standing facing one another, our shoulders rounded like two bulls about to collide, both breathing hard.
“That’s bullshit,” he spits. A thin line of blood runs from his left nostril, and he sniffs and then wipes it away with the back of his hand. “She wants all of us.”
“You sure about that? Because it didn’t sound that way when she was telling me how my cock is bigger and harder than yours.”
His jaw tenses as he clamps his teeth together and lets out a roar of fury. Now he’s the one rushing me, and he hits me with the force of a train. We land back on the floor again, and he punches me in the nose. Pain explodes through my face.
Did I take it too far? Yeah, maybe, but I lost control of my mouth. I’d wanted to hurt him for what he did to my painting. He deserved it.
I get one particularly satisfying jab into his ribs when a scream rents the air.
“Stop! Stop it, both of you!”
We both pause. Lex turns to look over his shoulder, and I half sit to see past him.
Staring up, dark curls and angry brown eyes fill my vision.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Vani demands.
Looking beyond her, I see the door is open and some dumb jock is staring at us, his mouth half open. Great, this will be around the college before I get up from the floor. I stand and push past Vani, slamming the door closed and whirling on her.
“You don’t fucking talk to us that way.” I glance to my brother. “Either of us.”
“You’ll ruin everything,” she says, and I’m shocked to see she’s close to tears. “This, us, you’ll both tear it apart.”
“Who says this has anything to do with you?” I sneer, angry at her more than ever in this moment. I offer Lex a hand, and he takes it and lets me pull him up.
“The fact the painting is smashed up tells me it is about me. You did this?” She turns to Lex. “Why? It was beautiful.”
Now, he’s the one to sneer. “Is that how you think you look? To him? No, it’s not the truth. He doesn't see you that way. You’re not his angel, you’re his whore .”
She flinches as if Lex has hit her, and I almost charge him again, but I stop myself because he’s right, isn’t he? She is my whore, and it’s best that I remember that.
Vani’s fingers are flying over her phone screen.
“What are you doing?” Lex demands.
“Texting Zane and telling him to get here.” She stares at us both defiantly.
I snort. “You think he’s the leader? Please. He can’t even speak.”
I regret the words as soon as they are out. None of this is Zane’s fault, and he’s like a second brother to me. The fact is that I’m shaken.
I’m shaken by Lex smashing the painting, but I’m also shaken that I painted Vani so romantically, because that’s what that painting was—romantic.
Partly, it’s my style. I love the style of the Pre-Raphaelites, but there was more to it with this particular painting. It had a tenderness that I’d be lying if I denied. I understand why Lex was freaked out, but I don’t get his anger or why he smashed it.
Now she’s here, the Venom in question, her poison is running through our veins, and getting in between us. She’s going to ruin our brotherhood, and we can’t have that. She needs to be taught a lesson. One she’ll never forget. If we make her think she’s ours, then show us she’s nothing, a nobody, she’ll learn a valuable lesson.
No one fucks with the Vipers and lives to not regret it. That’s what she’s doing, fucking with us. It might be accidental, or it might be on purpose, but either way, the punishment has to be the same.
To break her, though, we have to make her care, and to make her care, we need to make her feel cherished. Maybe she’s my whore, but if she thinks she’s my special whore, it will still hurt when she realizes she’s just one in a long line.
Lex might not be up for it, and Zane most certainly not, but if they don’t have what it takes, I do.
I’ll make her fall for us, and then I’ll show her she’s nothing.