It’s all over in less than ten minutes, which has got to be some new kind of record.
Finn’s crew lies broken and beaten on the field as the Saints stand victorious. They stride toward me, looking like their shit’s the bomb, gloating as if it’s all in a day’s work.
And I suppose it is for them.
Saint lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe his brow, exposing the chiseled abs that are a regular feature in my dreams. His jeans hang low on his hips, and the V indents on either side of his body are clearly visible. My tongue longs to trace the curves and to dip lower, to wrap my lips around his cock and suck hard.
Saint grabs my chin painfully, lifting my head and stretching my neck as far as it will go. He swipes roughly at my mouth. “You had a little drool there.”
I move to swat his hand away, remembering at the last second that I’m still cuffed, and all I can manage is a feeble sideswipe that barely registers.
He smirks, whipping his head around to where Caz is propped against the entrance to the bleachers with his feet crossed at the ankles. “Nice touch.”
“I thought so,” he agrees, lighting up a cigarette. A smear of blood is spread across his brow, and the side of his shirt is ripped.
“Although I’d prefer if she was naked and cuffed to my bed,” Saint adds.
“I thought you don’t go back for seconds,” I coolly reply.
“We don’t,” Galen retorts. “And who said anything about sex?”
“We could add a few more scars to your body,” Saint suggests with a dark glint in his eye. A few guys chuckle as they walk by, heading up the steps.
“We’re known for our creative torture techniques,” Galen adds. “And I’ve already got a few new ideas in mind for you.”
I shrug. “If you’re trying to scare me, you’ll have to try a lot harder than that.” I stand, thrusting my shoulders out and refusing to be intimidated.
Most girls would probably be ashamed if they bore the scars I bear, but I’m not like most girls.
I wear my scars proudly.
It’s why I’ve never shied away from wearing belly tops or sleeveless shirts or bikinis, and the shocked stares I picked up during swim class never fazed me, because these scars prove I’m a survivor, so why the fuck would I hide them?
“We’ll see.” Galen folds his arms, pinning me with the usual venom, and I decide to test the waters.
“You can’t still be sore about what went down when we were kids? Or you always take rejection so personally?”
He shoves me back onto the bench, caging me in with his arms, pressing his body down on top of mine. One hand wraps around my throat, and he squeezes. I hold his gaze without flinching. “I will fucking end you, Westbrook. You can sit there acting all smug and innocent, but we know the truth.” He squeezes my throat harder, and he’s glaring at me with so much hatred in his eyes I wouldn’t put it past him to strangle me in front of an audience.
Saint pulls him back. “Not here.”
My breath oozes out in grateful relief, but I make no other sound, refusing to show emotion.
Saint glances up at the crowd who is loitering, watching us with bated breath. Over Galen’s shoulder, I spot Parker watching the altercation with beady eyes, taking it all in and mentally parking it for dissection later, no doubt.
“Get the fuck home,” Saint yells, his voice carrying across the bleachers. Kids instantly scramble until all that’s left are the injured bodies on the field and a few stupidly brave stragglers.
The sky darkens, casting a gloomy blanket over the ground below as rain threatens.
Saint grabs my hands, releasing one of my wrists from the cuffs, and, for a second, I think he’s going to let me go, but he locks the handcuff around the bench I’m sitting on, leaving me trapped.
“How original,” I deadpan, rolling my eyes.
This time, it’s Saint who invades my private space, leaning into my face. “We haven’t even started.” His eyes momentarily lower to my lips, and I smirk. A muscle pops in his jaw as he rips his face away from mine, casting a derogatory glance over my body. He straightens up, planting a shit-eating grin on his face. “You think you’re invincible. We’re about to show you you’re not.”
They walk off, and I sit there watching Parker scream in Finn’s face as he struggles to climb to his feet. The guys on the field are limping away, using the entrance on the far side to flee the scene of their demise with their bloody heads hanging low in shame. Parker glances at me and grins at my predicament as she reluctantly helps her boyfriend hobble away.
I whistle under my breath, glancing up at the ever-darkening sky, wondering if it will actually rain.
Footsteps approach, and I don’t need to look over my shoulder to confirm it’s Sariah. I roll my jeans leg up and remove my blade with my free hand as my bestie, Sean, and Emmett appear in front of me.
“Fucking asshats,” Sariah seethes, taking my blade and unfolding it for me.
“I can handle the Saints,” I say, taking it from her and twiddling with the lock on the cuffs.
“Why are they interested in you?” Sean asks, and Emmett splutters, looking incredulous.
“Have you not seen the tape?” he asks, and I stop what I’m doing to lift a brow.
He has the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry.” He shrugs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I watched it before I knew you were coming to Lowell High and before I knew you were friends with Sean and Sariah.”
“Which is why I haven’t watched it,” Sean confirms.
“I watched it,” Sariah says, and I grin. We watched some of it together when it was first leaked because I wanted to know exactly what was out in the public domain.
Dad always said knowledge is power, and I agree.
“Picked up a few new moves,” she adds, winking at her boyfriend, and he throws his head back laughing.
“It was fucking hot,” Emmett says, waggling his brows.
“Is that your way of saying you want to fuck me?” I inquire, as the lock pings open and I free myself.
“Every guy at this school wants to fuck you after that tape,” he replies, while I rub my sore wrist.
“Or at least they did,” Sean adds, as Sariah hands my backpack to me. “Until the assholes laid claim to you.”
I throw the handcuffs inside, zip it up, and stand. “Well, at least, they’ve done me one favor,” I quip.
“I’ve been checking up on them,” Emmett says, as we climb the steps together, and my admiration elevates a few levels.
I knew he was smart.
When people threaten my family, I dig into their pasts to uncover every seedy little secret in the hope I can find something to use as leverage. Emmett clearly didn’t take kindly to Theo threatening his sister, and I don’t blame him.
Anyone who ignores a threat from The Sainthood is an idiot.
Those guys don’t make idle threats.
“And they’ve never claimed any girl before,” Emmett continues. “Hell, from what I’ve discovered, they basically shun girls after they’ve fucked them. So why have they claimed you?”
I have my suspicions, but it’s nothing I can share. “I guess I’m just that good of a lay,” I joke, grinning as I loop my arm through his and we hurry out of the stadium.