I couldn’t lie—it was one of the things I loved about him. He was always surprising me, and it was exciting to be around him, even if he was a bit of a nutcase.
“We need to talk, flower,” he insisted, pulling my hands between his while leaning forward so that we were inches apart.
“And what do we need to talk about, Saint?” I tilted my head, examining his dark, almost charcoal eyes that were surrounded by a metallic silver ring that seemed to expand and shrink depending on how worked up he was at the time. Or psychotic. Whichever you wanted to view it as. The man was absolutely lethal, and his stunning smile and bright, playful attitude didn’t dissuade me from that analysis.
Although, I would admit that he probably got away with a lot in his life because of how fucking beautiful he was. It was unfair that someone like Saint could have eyelashes like he did, for the record. It looked like he was wearing eyeliner! Who did he think he was?! I felt like he didn’t appreciate the good fortune he so clearly had.
“I don’t like Amun,” he explained simply, his eyes glinting with a familiar darkness. “In fact, I have the extremely present and compulsive urge to rip out his throat. I need you, my perfect little flower, to tell me that’s okay and that you won’t be mad at me for doing so and then disposing of his body out back. I know you love the garden out there, but I promise it’s good for the flowers. I mean, clearly it is—think how beautiful it is out there! That is thanks to several, okay—maybe more than several—very well-placed decaying bodies. So really this would be a very advantageous thing.”
Oh man. I blinked and then shook my head, leaning forward. “Saint, you are being ridiculous. Amun is perfectly fine, and I have no doubt a great addition to our team—”
“Arabella,” he groaned, his eyes flashing silver. “We can find someone else. I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
I now had the compelling urge to ask him how exactly he looked at me.
“No,” I simply responded with a smile, sitting back slightly as he pulled me even closer. His warm brown sugar scent wrapped around me possessively as his handsome face transformed into a near pout.
And no, for the record, I would not address his claim about burying bodies in my favorite garden out back. That would give him far too much freedom to run through the literal list of who was actually buried out there, because I absolutely did not believe he was joking.
If the nightmare said he killed someone, or multiple ‘someones,’ then he most definitely did. I had made the mistake once of teasing him about not actually killing over one hundred guards on a mission, and… he had gone through each and every slaughter with me, despite Razar attempting to stop him. Saint was the type of person that gave you exactly what you asked for. His blunt nature was sexy, but man, you really, really had to be precise.
The nightmare was persistent as hell, and I had a feeling he would be attempting to convince me of Amun’s lack of usefulness for some time coming up, so I couldn’t give him any leeway. Luckily, I also knew that Saint wouldn’t do anything without me truly being okay with it. The psycho was a complete sweetheart at his core… well, when it came to me.
Sure, he was a bit different and a possible—read as ‘for sure’—psychopath, but I couldn’t lie, I had a complete soft spot for him. Maybe it was because I did see a slightly different side of him, one that was filled with small romantic notions that even the coldest of hearts couldn’t reject.
After each and every mission, he left me gifts outside of my bedroom door. No, that wasn’t a joke. Only two weeks ago I had found a severed head outside of my bedroom in a large box wrapped with a black silk bow. I mean… who does that? It was very sweet! The man wasn’t winning any awards for ‘traditional romantic,’ but I couldn’t help but love the gesture.
That wasn’t even counting what he did last Valentine’s day!
“I have no idea what he’s up to,” I noted to Zain, shaking my head as we walked towards my bedroom. It was mid-day, and we were attempting to find Saint so that we could finish our work and be done for the weekend. The others were training a Class B team that was just put together, so it was just the three of us today, and predictably… Saint was being difficult.
Zain chuckled. “I would try to guess, but it’s Saint.”
“Accurate,” I mumbled. We reached my bedroom and I pressed on the door, the handprint scanner opening it for me easily. Despite never really using it, I had given my entire team access. I never knew if they were going to need to wake me up for some reason, and frankly… well, I wouldn’t be opposed to them showing up in my room. Except as I entered the room, I came to a quick stop, my brows shooting up as Zain let out a chuckle.
Wow. Just an absolutely ‘wow’ moment. I stepped further into the room, taking in the white roses filling my room. Hundreds of them. Some were in vases, others not. But they were everywhere and shifting slightly in the breeze of the open window, no Saint in sight despite knowing he was the one who had put them here.
How did I know that?
All the petals were stained in blood. Just a light sprinkling, like a signature.
“Why?” I asked authentically.
Zain wrapped an arm around me and kissed my temple. “Pretty sure this is because of that human holiday that was on our calendar.”
Human holiday… Valentine’s day? I looked up at him and offered arched brows. “He got me a Valentine’s day gift?”
“Yep.” Zain flashed a smile and then tilted his head. “Sort of wish I had thought of that.”
A giggle slipped from my lips as I shook my head. I couldn’t help but find the entire action… romantic. Despite—or maybe because of—the blood.
We had found him back down in the office with a proud smile on his face. When I had thanked him, he just shrugged as if it was no big deal. I didn’t ask whose blood had been on the roses, but I figured it wasn’t necessary because they were so very clearly dead. I think that had been all the permission he had needed, though, to continue to give me gifts.
I couldn’t lie—I loved it.
So why I couldn’t get the nightmare to kiss me was once again beyond me. Saint was even more outright about his attraction to me than Blackwell! I mean, it wasn’t from a lack of trying on my end, either. I flirted with him, often, yet every single time he stopped me and threatened to ‘turn my ass pink’ if I kept teasing him. Something that very much just wanted to make me kiss him more, for the record.
I did wonder if maybe, just maybe, his rejection had to with him being a reaper. God terrors were extremely powerful by nature, so he would have a right to be concerned since I was human and probably had a soul that his magic would want to take, something that didn’t scare me as much as it should. If there was anyone that I knew would keep my soul safe, it was Saint. Still, it felt more than that, and I couldn’t lie, it hurt my pride just a teeny tiny amount.
I really should be terrified of kissing a god terror. I mean, there were several elements to them—not even including that he was a reaper—that were absolutely horrifying for humans. First, they were immortal. As in never died and truly were never born. I had no confirmation on this, but that was the rumor. Additionally, unlike legend terrors, which were associated with different cultures, god terrors were more associated with different concepts that you saw throughout the world no matter what. Reapers obviously worked with death, but you had god terrors that worked with life, love, war, and a myriad of other different topics. I personally hadn’t met any besides Saint, but that was the notion behind them.