Page 2 of The Tenth Circle (Vicious Saint: Prelude)

Nobody notices me watching, probably because this room is huge, there’s little light, and the guy is too busy placing demands on what he wants them to do to his “Royal Cock”.

Royal dick is more like it.

I get closer to try and catch some faces, and feel confident in my effort, until I kick a damn pole at my feet, now wanting to drown in the pool we passed in the basement.

Shit. Shit. Fudging-freaking shit.

The girls freeze in place before I catch their shadows looking around frantically, but I’m quick and already made it behind a tall folded table.

I close my eyes and hold my breath, trying my best not to move or make a sound until the three of them kick rocks.

The two girls are the ones getting kicked, though, specifically by a smoky, deep voice telling them to get out.

“Let’s go,” he says, followed by the sound of a zipper.

Yes, please get out, please get out, pleeeeease get out .

I wait a few after the door closes before trying to make my great escape—and I’m about to tiptoe away from the table when a shadow moves across the wall.

Oh, damn you nicotine addiction.

“You can come out, now,” says the same smoky, deep voice. But this time there’s a smoothness to it I can taste in the air.

Almost like honey.

Snack time takes place between more internal cursing, until finally I gather the wits to make an appearance.

Stepping out from behind the table I keep my chin held high, needing to savor as much dignity as I can after being caught with my hand in the coochie jar.

It poofs into air as I take in the size of this guy's figure, along with the cocky smile peeking through the only bit of sunlight on his face.

“See something you like?” There’s amusement in the question that makes me hate myself even more.

Because threesomes are always hot, damn it, and I’ve recently added it to my dirty laundry list.

You know…the thoughts inside your head that can only be cleaned by doing dirty shit.

“No. Ew. Who hooks up on a storage room floor?” I scoff, attempting to latch onto disgust since dignity left me choking on dust.

The grin in his words stands prominent as he responds with, “Very dirty girls.”

I can’t tell if this comment is meant to praise or degrade Merideth and Lexi Grey who were having their way with his anatomy.

“Fuck off,” I snap, using my attitude as an opportunity to escape.

My attitude doesn’t stand a chance against the length of his legs, because they have him only a couple feet away in less than five seconds. I’m impressed with his stealth but not enough to accept defeat.

This guy’s stare, though? That’s up for debate, because I feel the heat from it on my skin even without seeing him.

I slide to the right, he slides to his left. I slide to my left, him to his right…this stupid dance making my hands ball into fists at my sides.

“Get out of my way.”

He takes a step toward me, and finally I get a small glimpse at more features of his face. His crystal blue eyes stand out the most.

I suddenly feel naked, knowing an ounce of their beauty outweighs most eyes I’ve ever come across.

A note of dark hair, chiseled clean jaw, and the same shiteating grin peeking through the light from the far window.

“What were you doing back here watching me?” he asks, pushing a random cart in front of me when I try to leave again.

“I was not watching you,” I shoot out, which is countered by a derisive, “uh-huh.”

Ugh.

“Okay, fine, I was. But not because I wanted to. I was over by the window smoking a cigarette in peace when I heard the Grey sisters going to town on…” I gesture to where I can only assume the rest of his lower body is. “Well…all of you.”

“She smokes cigarettes,” he says in a playful “watch out now” notion. It isn’t until curious eyes dip to my legs that I realize I’ve got a bit of sunlight on me also. “Her jeans are worn at the knees too.”

I quickly step back into the comfort of darkness.

The comment is meant to be mocking but feels more like a friendly jab.

I’d like to friendly jab his pretty face.

“That lame joke tells me your lips are worn out from all the sucking. You should consider retiring them.”

His comeback this time is swift. Harsh. Cold. The ice in it sharp enough to cut through bone.

“I could say the same about those fucking jeans.”

The breakneck speed of his mood shift comes way too natural for it to be a random response to insult. It sweeps through me like a chill, leaving prickles on my skin.

Fear grips me for a moment, which is odd since I, in all my self-preservation, have not felt scared being locked in a dark room with this guy until now.

Still, fuck him .

Which is exactly what my middle finger is saying before I shove the cart he blocked me with out of the way, hitting his thigh.

The wall of a man doesn’t move, though.

In fact, he doesn’t even flinch.

Another reason to keep my identity as hidden as possible, get the fuck out of here, and far away from this crazy man.

“I never got your name.” The playfulness returns when I manage to pass without falling.

“Yeah? And you never will.”

“Well, in that case at least let me get a good look at you.”

It’ll be a cold day in Hell before I let him see me now. Mainly because I can’t promise myself that the other him won’t be the one who kills me.

“I won’t give you the satisfaction.”

There’s a chuckle behind me. Hefty but far less lethal. “If we’re talking satisfaction, then I’m gonna have to do a lot more than look at you.”

Well this guy is clearly the pig out of the two.

A chemically imbalanced, perverted pig whose gaze I can feel burning a hole in my ass.

I turn on my heels, eyes thinned to slits. “Do you have any decency? Morals even?”

He doesn’t because now I feel his attention on my chest.

“Are you asking if I’m a sinner?” There’s a gravel to his voice, like the thought of him being one turns him on.

Oh, I’d bet my last penny this jerk would be at the top of any deity’s naughty list.

“I don’t need to ask, dipshit, I can already tell.”

“Ask me anyway,” he taunts. “I dare you.” With a single step forward, he keeps going. “Ask me if I spend my nights drowning in so much pussy it can make the filthiest motherfuckers’ cheeks turn red.”

I swallow, unable to speak because of how convincing this guy is. And to be honest, I don’t think he’s looking for an actual response. Just a reaction.

And I refuse to give him one.

Other than moving back when he steps out of the light.

“Oh, don’t get shy on me, now.” His voice grows colder as I feel him get closer. “Come out of the shadows and ask me if I’d like to shove my cock so far inside that sassy mouth of yours it leaves you choking on your words. Specifically the ones you used to try to insult me.”

My mouth opens and closes like a fish, so confused with how we got here I don’t even remember why I showed up in the first place.

“Ask. Me. If. I. Am,” he demands when I hit a wall, his body so close to mine I smell the remnants of feminine perfume on him.

I don’t know why I wish I could see who he is through the darkness. Examine how his face changes with his mood. Know his name and what he’s thinking about right now as he terrifies me. Begins touching me.

A finger down my neck, along my shoulder, even dropping to the line of my camisole, threatening my cleavage before following through with a squeeze.

I follow through with a hitched breath we both can hear but he ignores.

“Mm…” he hums as his hand tightens around me, and I slap it away, along with my distorted inhibitions.

“Don’t you dare fucking touch me again.”

“You sure? ’Cause dares that end in touching are always the most fun.” Challenge mingles in his response, acting as a segue into what I say next.

“Then go and touch your damn self and leave me out of it.”

I try to escape once again, but once again he intercepts my advance. This time with an arm as his palm slaps against the wall.

“But you want me to touch you, don’t you?”

My lip twitches in frustration. With both him and myself. “Not even a bit.”

He chuckles. “Then you definitely won’t like this.”

I jump when his other hand squeezes my waist, lingering there before snaking down the length of my hips. Its counterpart follows right after.

I feel his entire body sinking too, his breath taking over to keep the surface of my skin warm.

“Wha-what are you doing?” I stutter, all confidence out the window as this absolute stranger settles on his knees.

“Helping you decide.”

“Decide wha?—?”

The question gets cut off by him sliding his hand between my thighs, forcing a helpless whine to escape my lips. One that turns desperate when he begins rubbing my pussy through my jeans.

Oh, what a cruel torture tactic.

Especially since it’s obvious I want more of this.

“Decide what?” I manage before he pinches the sensitive area, raising my arousal level somewhere between manic and panic and highly combustible.

My heart’s ready to jump from my chest when the sound of low shushes pulls it back into its cage.

The caress of gentle fingers settles its rapid beating.

As if sympathizing with the effect he has on me, this stranger continues lulling me with hushed breaths and lazy circles of his thumb against my most private area. Not letting up on any of it until all that’s left is the sound of silence between us.

Then, finally, he responds to my question.

“If you think I am.”

I internally groan when I realize what he means.

Oh, Mylanta.

Not this again.

Why the hell does this guy care what I think of his morals and values? I can barely figure out my own at the moment.

“The only thing I think you are is crazy, maybe slightly bipolar.” My breath hitches when his hands travel to the button of my jeans.

“So she diagnoses too…” he muses.

My fingers whip around his wrist, attempting to stop what’s happening between us before it reaches the point of no return. Then, with my eyes squeezed shut, I force out a, “Stop.”

He does but not without a snarky response.

“Where’s all that sass from earlier? Hm?”

Pretty sure it’s been outsmarted by my damn vagina.