Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 91064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
They introduce him next- the Saint- and his intro is Remember the Name by Fort Minor. He walks into the room the same way he always does. There is no posturing from him and I’m glad because he doesn’t need it because he’s a goddamned legend too. And I hate that I see it now, but I do.
I’m in the moment.
I’m excited like the other buffoons next to me by the blood and the sweat and the vision of Rory the predator. He’s hot, and he’s built and he’s going to beat the shit out of this motherfucker and I’m going to watch.
I nudge the girl next to me with my elbow.
“He’s mine,” I tell her, and a lie has never tasted so sweet.
She gives me a skeptical nod and then shrugs. “Good for you, honey.”
The fight begins.
It’s loud, but worth it, I decide.
You never really know someone until you’ve seen them in their element.
This is Rory’s.
His body was made for fighting.
He’s like a gladiator in there. All sweaty and primitive and raw. His instincts are good and he’s fast. I used to watch Mack fight and while I don’t know all the technicalities, I have two eyes.
He wounds his opponent with a solid punch in the first two minutes, and then he toys with him. And maybe we really aren’t so different.
When it’s over and he emerges the victor, I half expect him to drag a couple of virgins back to his cave for the night.
But he doesn’t.
Just like Mack said, his friends are handling that business for him. I watch them- purely out of curiosity- to see who will soothe all of Rory’s aches tonight.
She’s blonde… seriously, what’s with the blondes… and there’s not one remarkable thing about her that I can see.
The hoops in her ears are so big she’d fly away if they caught wind.
And a jean mini skirt? What is this, the eighties?
I stalk her down the hallway and Conor’s too busy flirting with some other blonde to notice.
When she reaches for the doorknob of Rory’s room, I tap her on the shoulder.
“What?” she snaps her gum and turns around.
“Take a hike, kid,” I tell her.
She smirks and crosses her arms. And we’re still in middle school, and this is the girl curling her lip in disgust like I’m the one who has no taste.
“You take a fucking hike.” She snaps her gum again. “Kid.”
Sigh.
They make everything so goddamn difficult. People should know when they see me coming to get the fuck out of my way.
She asks if my dress cost five dollars and I laugh because she’s too ignorant to know it’s Valentino and I’m done being nice.
I grab her by the collar and slam her against the wall.
“Get your hands off me,” she says.
I’m ready to let her scamper off until she opens her pink frosted lips again.
“They sent me back here. I’m supposed to take care of him.”
She wants crazy, and she’s going to get it.
“You couldn’t handle him. He likes it rough.”
“I think I handled him just fine the last time I was here.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say sweetly. “Did I say him? I meant me. You couldn’t handle me, sweetheart.”
I yank the knife from my sheath and dig the flat edge against her throat.
And finally… finally… the woman has some sense.
“Alright, alright… Jesus, you fucking psycho. Let me go. You can have him.”
I let her go, and she scoots away from me, tracking me over her shoulder as she trots off. There’s no fun in going after her, but I still need to make a point here.
To her and any other woman who thinks they’re going to get a piece of Rory.
He’s my toy, and I don’t fucking share.
“Come near him again and I’ll cut out your heart.”
She gives me crazy eyes and nearly trips over her own heels. But she’s gone now, and I’m happy.
Frigging amateurs.
He’s sitting in a chair, towel draped over his head as he leans forward, elbows resting on his thighs.
If I had a poetic bone in my body, I might say it’s a compelling image of him.
But I’m not poetic and I don’t care and my want for him is only primal.
I move behind him and he is still and quiet and he knows someone is here, but he doesn’t ask who. The muscles of his back and shoulders are broad beneath my fingertips. He is sweaty and hard and all man.
The truth is Rory doesn’t disgust me.
Not even a little bit.
I lean down to whisper in his ear.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Saint?”
“You can dispense with the games, Scarlett.”
“How’d you know it was me?” I pout.
“For starters, that door isn’t soundproof.”
Heat spreads across my cheeks, and my fingers dig into his back. He wasn’t supposed to hear any of that.
“And what else?” I ask.