Thirteen
Their Obsession
Liv
S aint moved further out into the light until his entire massive figure was present for me to feast my eyes on. His picture didn’t do him justice. They should list his height because he was huge. I was sure he was taller than Sin, and I thought his stature was domineering.
Mr. Sullivan wore a black suit with a dark button-up shirt underneath. He loosened a black tie and took it off while he studied at me. As he undid the top buttons of his shirt, a pendant glistened in the light, making the moment intense. The exact one Sin wore. The assholes not only loved to prey on me, but they had matching necklaces, too.
How cute?
He remained quiet, concealing his voice from me as he ambled forward, and I took a few more steps back. His face featured a bone structure made for a cover model, with that perfectly chiseled bad boy next door expression. Unlike Sin, whose face bore a scar carved into his skin and who glared at everything like he’d burn the world down. But Saint’s stare made me quake with a volcanic heat that was ready to explode.
“So, no formal introduction from your best buddy?” I asked to break the tension.
But only a low rumble rolled through the air.
The sound could have been the air conditioner, a furnace, or even a noise from the music—anything other than what I knew I had heard. The hairs on my arms stood up with caution, my ears perked and my back hit the door.
A tiny gasp fell from me, and I swear Saint snickered. A cruel sound as evil as Sin’s. Me being shaken up got his jollies off, too.
Lucky me.
“So what’s your deal?” I asked as he took off his formal jacket and tie and draped them over the back of the chair.
Saint glanced at his arms and pushed up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing many tattoos covering them. The ink slid underneath his rolled-up sleeves, down his forearms, and stopped at his wrists. The tangles of veins popped out from his extremely muscular forearms and down onto his hands. They were masculine hands, forming into fists and unclenching as his blue-eyed blaze met mine again.
Jesus. Saint’s one hand alone could wrap around my neck. Impressive.
“Hey, dickhead?”
Saint’s lips curled into a wide grin, almost as sinister as this very moment, and my heart raced. Panic soared through me, and I ate my words. All the confidence I once held left me, and I turned around to try the door again. Wishful thinking of the door magically opening played on repeat in my mind, as if I had the ability to create some sort of goddamn miracle. When I didn’t have shit. But I did have a bitching loud voice.
“Open this fucking door right now, Sin! I know you’re out there!” I yelled as loud as I could and twisted the knob.
Banged once. Twice. Again and again. Nothing.
Then I screamed. A wild banshee wail for help. The sound echoed off the walls and right back into my eardrums until it stopped from a hand over my mouth. My eyes went wide in terror as the silent man muffled my scream and wrapped an arm around my waist. In response, I kicked out my legs and thrashed my feet. The heels of my pumps rapped against the door, and I tried twisting my body to gain control back. But it was no use .
Saint was gigantic, and I held little power over him. The struggle I put up only lasted a few seconds and he probably let me put up a fight. Only to get off on my poor effort.
I continued to scream against the hand Saint used to cover my mouth while he pulled me back further into the room. Far away from the door and my hopeless means of escape. There was no way out of this as soon as I walked through that door, and he knew it. I came here to save my ass, and now I think I only came here to discover true torture.
Unlike Sin, Saint covered my mouth so tightly I couldn’t bite down. My backside was flush up against his solid chest, and I couldn’t move my arms. My limbs were tucked tight against me while he held me in his firm grasp.
Saint was an angel of darkness—a fallen guardian who answered only to his unholiness. Sin. The devil peering in from the walls of hell as his worshipper wrapped his tarnished wings around me.
Satan’s messenger pushed me into the chair, causing my skirt to fly up at the back. My ass cheeks made a loud slap against the metal because of the force, causing pain to course through my tailbone. The harsh motion cut the scream from me, and I shuddered with the back of my head against his shoulder. But the bastard still uttered no words .
Everything shook as I vibrated in the chair, and my nostrils flared with each unsteady breath through my nose. I remained silent while he breathed against my ear, and the same smell from Sin fell over me. Cedarwood. No whiskey, which I was grateful for. I didn’t need a drunk asshole of Saint’s size to mistreat me. But with his deranged state, he could be just as dangerous.
I came here to follow orders and put this situation behind me, but I feared this was only the beginning. A start to a fucked-up partnership I never wanted. Two psychos who’d haunt me until my death. This could be my end at the hands of this man while Sin wasn’t far away, watching everything he had put into motion. He had set me up with a lunatic as crazy as he was and knew full well what this man was capable of.
Destruction.