Page 63 of Taint My Soul

The subtle way his eyes darken whenever he sees blood on me.

The delight in his eyes when he held that knife against my throat.

The monster in me calls for the monster in him.

My hands flex around the steering wheel as the chaotic city blurs behind me. I don’t know whether I should crave a mindless touch, an empty heat, or drown myself in bodies that gave me meaningless sex.

Hell, I don’t know if taking a chance on this man is the right decision.

I’ve never questioned a decision in my life. I know what’s right, and I do it.

But Mason has made me come alive, and that terrifies me more than any enemy has. He’s put me in a war with my mind and body, and I’m losing. I’m coming apart.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

MASON

“Is there anything you need?” Saint asks as he walks into the house with my body firmly wrapped around him.

He hasn’t let me go since the moment we left that club.

And God, I hate that he’s doing this for me. That I didn’t get to pick up the pieces of myself or dissociate from what had happened to me in that room.

He picked me up without hesitation and brought me home. He ended a business deal because of me.

My body trembles from the pain of the nicks on my back. The memory of Prince’s cold blade, pressing into the heat of my skin, burns closer to the surface. My stomach twists in discomfort from Saint’s touch against my skin.

I cannot forget why I am here.

I cannot forget that in a matter of hours, I’d be free.

That I’d pack my bags and leave all of this behind.

That I’m not here for Saint, but for myself. That the man holding me close to his chest isn’t any different from every other man I have encountered in my life.

Light floods into the dark space of the kitchen. He sets me down on both feet and places my hands on the polished counter. “Stay still.” He says.

My body trembles with a mix of pain and fear, but I remain still because he asked me to. Every part of me fights this. I don’t want him touching my skin. I don’t want him tainting my soul.

He rips my clothes off my back and sets a first-aid box beside me. “This will hurt.” He says.

I groan when the burning liquid lands all over my skin, and my fingers clench against the counter. My gaze snaps to the transparent windows and the large trees lining the driveway. His hand moves along my skin in careful strokes as he cleans up the gore and blood. I don’t take my eyes off the trees. I don’t let the feel of his skin against mine sink deep enough to scar.

“You’ll be fine.” He says after a while. He cleans up the cotton wool soaked in my blood and puts my tattered t-shirt in the dumpster before he returns the first aid box to the top drawer in the kitchen cabinet.

I get off the counter and head toward the staircase. The stairs creak under my weight as I venture into the dark halls, wincing from the pain. Saint catches up with me in long, purposeful strides, cutting me off before I can pass the bedroom door.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“I shouldn’t have left you.”

“Well, it wouldn’t have changed a thing.” I pinch my lips together, spine stiff, eyes resting on nothing in the hall.

“I wouldn’t have let them take you.” His jaw set, his shoulders pushing back.

An impatient snort escapes me. “All of this wouldn’t have happened if you had just left me alone.” My eyes are dull, almost lifeless. “I was humiliated again!” My body feels broken. My skin tightens with embarrassment as a lone tear escapes my eyes.