Page 17 of The Tenth Circle (Vicious Saint: Prelude)

SAINT

“ S o, you gonna tell me what’s got you wound up so tight or what?” Seven, a.k.a. Annalie, questions, perched next to me on the bed in nothing but a bra.

It’s no secret I had a bit of a rough night.

She knows it.

Theory and the guys know it.

Hell, even Rosa, the maid who stood idly by as I destroyed every inch of my room, fucking knows it.

Hendrix showing up in The Pit came as no surprise after what I did to her precious pup.

In fact, I was waiting for the moment she’d stomp her sexy ass into my personal space, guns blazing—demanding answers, apologies, even a fucking limb.

I was anticipating every single one of her responses. Bitching. Moaning. The notorious Saint Lavell, you’re a piece of fucking shit on a stick.

What I didn’t expect was mine .

I’m not referring to the moments after she threatened me with the cheap little stun gun she had Amazon Primed on her doorstep.

I was amused, if anything. Watching the small freckles around her nose scrunch together. Her eyes dance wildly with fiery rage. I live for that shit.

What didn’t amuse me, though, was having my sister degraded. Again.

This time by her . A girl I actually wanted to be around.

Enjoyed even.

Who I made sure nobody dared to fucking hurt because of it.

My jaw tightens, and I swallow the irritation stirring in my gut.

I’ve never allowed anyone to cross such a dangerous line to my face. Willingly nonetheless. Every single motherfucker in Riverside knows better than to test me the way Hendrix did last night.

Because they all know what happens if they do.

Seems my little Jimi Hendrix got too comfortable with her role in our game, and it’s time I remind her of her place.

Which could’ve been a fantastic time beneath me.

But instead she chose against me.

I’ve spent the entire night contemplating the best ways to squish her like a bug beneath my shoe. To torment her repeatedly until she regrets using my sister against me.

It took everything in my bones, down to my marrow, to hold my shit together. I wanted to kill Hendrix where she fucking stood.

In cold pressed-fresh-out-the-vein blood.

This was before my monster charged at the door making it worse. Before the sound of his banging became deafening when she refused to take back what she said. Before he wanted nothing more than to take Hendrix by the throat and unleash Hell on her through me.

And for a second, I thought about granting him five seconds.

But I knew I couldn’t, at least not the way he wanted.

So I fought. Then I fought even harder not to reach my breaking point. To tell myself I’ll get revenge the right way.

As always, Vicious’ primal needs quickly outweighed my attempt to not let him finish the job.

Until they didn’t.

And I was brought back from my madness.

Which, up until this very moment, I still have no fucking idea how.

Lips brushing against my shoulder has me blinking away the remnants of last night, looking to the side to find Seven primed and ready for a dirty fucking.

Her legs straddle me, hair looking like a rats’ nest from how hard I’ve been pulling it.

She raises an eyebrow, checking in for the answer we both know she won’t get. As if I’d be stupid enough to trust a girl who sucks my dick on a dime.

“Guess not…” She breathes in frustration.

Without a word I clutch her hips, raising them up before slamming her drenched pussy down on my cock.

She cries out, partially in pain, because most girls need me to ease them into the size of it.

We both know what this thing is between us.

I need to blow off steam, Seven comes running.

Giving it her all each time in hopes a great lay will be enough to make me want to name her One.

So typical it’s pathetic.

Right now I’m in no position to be picky, not when I need to get my non-homicidal groove back. Sex being the only way, besides wanton violence, to do the trick.

Lifting her again, slowly this time, I slam Seven down even harder, watching as she throws her long hair back and begins gyrating.

I allow her a moment of reprieve before taking control again, lifting my hips to fuck her senseless.

Instinct has me reach out to fist some tits, but Seven’s are always squashed behind a stupid push up bra. It’s sad, really, knowing she’s insecure, and if she wasn’t such a raging cunt I’d probably try to convince her she doesn't have to be.

But Seven is.

And I’m not in the business of coddling anyone.

“Oh, that Royal Cock feels so fucking good,” she moans, exaggerating each syllable like a cheap porn star.

I don’t know why she tries so hard to prove this point, since I’m not the one here who needs any gratification.

My dick is legendary.

Along with her skank reputation.

Nevermind the fucking fact her whining irritates me.

“Yeah?” I fist her hair. “Then take it like a good little whore.”

Her eyes are hooded as she says, “Mhmm…and how’s that, baby?”

My hand switches to covering Seven’s mouth, lowering my eyes to slits. “Quietly.”

Pain edges across her face, but she continues to fuck away her dignity. In silence.

Flipping Seven onto her back, I drive into her deep, with every thrust growing more and more harsh. Deliberate.

I need to rid myself of Vicious—because his voice is still lingering in my head. Growing loud enough to send chills along the nape of my neck.

Nothing in this life scares me more than my broken, fucked up pieces. The horrible things I'm capable of, the good things I’m not.

How none of it matters when there’s a score to settle.

Seven is back to low moans when I secure both of her legs over her head, debating whether or not to grace her with a little asshole action.

The debate is cut short, though, when I hear my name beckoned from the hallway. Seconds later, my door gets swung open by my dad.

“Oh, dear Lord.” I hear him panic.

Seven, caring more about my attention than embarrassment, ignores him, keeping her eager eyes on me as I respond, “A little busy at the moment!”

The door slams shut before the words, “Yes, I can see that you are,” come from behind it.

“Was referring to your Lord and Savior!”

Anger and recurring disappointment seeps from under the door frame.

“Please have that young lady make herself decent.”

The irony in my father’s statement is enough to entertain saints and sinners alike, but for his blood pressure’s sake, I throw myself off Seven.

“Not even Jesus can perform that miracle!” I shout, making her glower at me.

“What? I’ve seen you at church. We both know it isn’t helping.”

“You are such a piece of shit!” she hisses, climbing off the bed and snatching her clothes off the floor.

Resting my hands behind my head, I let out a deep sigh.

“So I’ve been told...”

Seven shoves her legs through her mini dress and slides it all the way up, then swipes her bag off the nightstand after adjusting herself. She’s already on the move when my father practices politeness and knocks this time.

My eyes are trained on the ceiling when she yanks it open, my dad standing uncomfortably in the doorway as she marches past him.

Numbers these days…way too fucking sensitive.

“Saint Matthias,” my father snaps. “What did I tell you about this type of behavior in my house?”

“Not sure. It’s hard to remember words I tune out.”

He slams a palm against the door. “This is unacceptable! And with your sister in the next room? What are you teaching her?”

Throwing my legs over the bed, I sit up and prop a pillow over my waist. “Relax, will you? Theory went out.”

He crosses his arms. “She was here when I left for mass.”

“She told me she needed pads or some shit.”

“Well, then. She should be back soon.”

“Sooner than soon!” Theory chirps from the hallway, wandering into my room moments later with a shopping bag in her hand. “What’s up, Daddy?”

She finds me in all my glory, and her face contorts. “Ew, dude. Are you naked?”

I answer with a pinched thumb and forefinger.

“I’m assuming that’s why your skeezy girlfriend was stomping out of the house?”

“Fuck, no. Seven ain’t my girlfriend. And she was having a fantastic fucking time until Dad pulled a cock block.”

“Stop this talk! Right now. The both of you.”

When Theory and I set eyes on our dad, it looks as though an artery’s about to burst in his neck.

But it doesn’t seem to be only about me for a change.

He looks…guilty. Which we all know should be the complete opposite of a bible thumper.

“What’s the matter, Daddy?” Theory squeezes his shoulder, picking up on his demeanor just as fast.

His jaw tightens, and he cracks his neck. “I have something I need to tell you both.”

Both my sister and I raise our eyebrows in unison.

“What is it?” she asks. “Is everything okay?”

“Please tell me it’s not about the price of fornication.”

Theory’s eyes are daggers on me, and I roll mine, just wanting to lighten the mood.

Dad shoots a finger at me. “That’ll come later. Although…I’m starting to think you’re a lost cause.”

“Starting? Seriously?”

“Can we save the bickering for later, please?” Theory groans. “What the heck is going on, Daddy?”

Through a tired breath, he responds, “Just tell your brother to get dressed, then meet me in the kitchen.”

Hendrix

“It was such a bad idea to provoke him.” Archer shakes his head, scribbling a horrendous version of Captain America on one of my sketch pads.

In the midst of ignoring the chances he’s right, I focus on my much better version.

“I had to do something.”

I can feel Archer’s hesitation to say what’s on his mind, which means he knows I won’t like it.

I allow him a few seconds before groaning.

“Spit it out, Arch. We both know you’ll end up scolding me anyway.”

He adds a lopsided star in the middle of America’s shield, and it takes everything in my power not to erase it.

“I’m just wondering why, I guess.”

“Why what?”

“Why you feel you had to do something...”

I toss my pad on the bed next to me. “Are you serious right now?”

He nods, tossing his pad too.

“Saint fucking hurt him—because of me.”