Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 199879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 999(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 999(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
But Saint? I’ll kill a bitch just for thinking she could have him. That man made me a psychotic fool. A sick and twisted part of me hopes I killed him because I couldn’t imagine him with anyone else other than me. The thought still makes me sick to my stomach. Most Lords don’t have social media accounts, and I sure as fuck don’t have one. When I do get on, I use another account from a girl at work. So there is no way for me to know if he survived or what he’s doing today. But whatever it is, I’m sure he’s got a wife. Lords aren’t expected to stay single for long. They have to reproduce. They are all required to produce an heir sooner rather than later.
“Fuck, babe.” James sighs, taking a step back. Reaching down, he grabs my hand and helps me to stand. He gently kisses my lips, and I don’t pull away although I want to.
He exits the bathroom to crawl into my bed and pass the fuck out. I finish getting undressed and start the shower, needing to wash the night off, ignoring the toothbrush on the floor.
I dig my cell out of my pocket, connect it to the Bluetooth speaker that I had installed in my shower, and pull up my Spotify playlist. “I hope ur miserable until ur dead” by Nessa Barrett fills the bathroom, and I remove the wedding ring on my finger. I place it in the glass dish on the counter before I step in the shower. Getting under the sprayer, I hiss in a breath at the sting of the hot water burning my cool skin. It feels so good. I close my eyes, reach up, and run my hands over my hair, pushing it back from my face.
My mind wanders to him. Saint is always on my mind. He has been ever since I left him lying in the hallway down in the morgue covered in his own blood. It haunts me more than any nightmare ever could.
Did I sell my soul for freedom? Of course, I did. Isn’t that how it works? In order to be free, a sacrifice must be made. I gave up my one true love and my only chance at happiness. I might have been his whore, but I never doubted that he loved me. Not many would ever understand what we had. How badly I burned for him and how much he loved me. Saint taught me that love is a sickness with no cure. It slowly kills you, but the only thing is that you don’t die. Not really. You can numb the pain, try to erase the memories, but no matter what, your body never forgets the way he touched you. The way he kissed you. The way he looked at you.
That guy tonight reminded me of Saint in the best way. He just knew what I wanted and took it. Do I put too much trust in men sexually? Yes. My mother’s therapist once told me that if I wasn’t careful, I’d find myself dead in a ditch in the middle of nowhere. That possibility didn’t stop me.
Tonight just proves how far I allow myself to go. Maybe I have a death wish. I don’t believe we live on in the afterlife. That doesn’t exist where I come from. There’s a living hell and an actual hell. Sins in our world aren’t forgiven, no matter how much time you spend on your knees.
The song comes to an end, and before it can switch to the next on my playlist, I hear glass breaking. “James?” I call out, staring at the white tiled wall ahead of me. Nothing. “James? You okay?” Silence. Sighing, I shut off the water and step out. Grabbing the towel, I turn off the music on my phone and put it back down so I can wrap the towel around myself.
I open the bathroom door and see he’s not in the bedroom. “What the fuck are you doing, James?” I bark, starting to get pissy. It’s almost four in the morning. I’m not in the mood for his shit. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s invited friends over at a late hour and got so fucked up, they broke shit in my house.
I exit the bedroom and march down the hallway to the living room. I gasp when I find him lying on the floor, covered in blood. “James?” I fall to my knees beside him. The glass coffee table is shattered as if he fell on top of it.
He groans, but his eyes remain closed.
“Hang on,” I tell him. “I’ll call 911.” Getting to my feet, I spin around to get my cell out of the bathroom but halt when I see a figure step out of the dimly lit corner. My pulse races, and my eyes widen when he steps closer to me.