Page 25

SAINT

A ll day I followed Avery from class to class.

I had to threaten several Drakes who had fallen prey to the love spell and made fools of themselves the day before and so wanted revenge.

But once I made certain they knew my Drake would kill them if they so much as laid a finger on the one I had Marked, they left him alone.

Then I would go to sit at the back of the class, barely listening to anything around me, keeping my eyes on my beloved… my l’lorna.

That was what my Drake called him, anyway. I still thought it was wrong—a male Drake can’t have another male as his fated mate. But my Drake refused all contradictions and called Avery that, as though we were really going to get Blood Bonded at some point and be joined together for life.

That would be impossible, I was certain.

But it didn’t stop my Drake—nothing stopped him when it came to Avery.

He was completely taken by my small, blond roommate.

And to be honest, so was I, though I didn’t like to admit it.

I shouldn’t be this attracted to another male—it wasn’t right, wasn’t natural .

And yet, all I could think about was how much I wanted to be with him, to touch him, to hold him.

I didn’t do any of these things. Not because I cared what others thought, though. My main worry about my feelings for Avery was the conflict between what I felt and what I had been raised to believe— not concern about how I might be perceived by others for those feelings.

No, the reason I didn’t sit with Avery or hold his hand or hug or kiss him in public, as I had often seen other couples doing, was the fact that I didn’t deserve to do any of those things. After the rough way I had treated him the night before, I didn’t deserve the comfort of his touch.

I had hurt and abused him—I had Marked him by force, giving him no choice in the matter. Why should I be allowed to touch him with gentleness now and feel the pleasure of his caress in return?

Besides, I told myself, he probably didn’t want me to touch him or be near him.

He’d said something about sitting with him at breakfast, but he probably only felt like it was the proper thing to do, since we wore each other’s Marks now.

I doubted he would want my hands on him ever again and I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t.

But Dios, how I longed for him!