Page 119 of Savage Saint

He’s a criminal. I help save lives.

Bad guy. Wonderful angel.

“I demand a divorce, Saint.” Now I lay it on thick. Getting the tiniest bit pissed. “You owe me a proposal, ring, wedding, and a baby by next year.”

“In that order?”

“Yes.” My finger jams his chest, a few inches from the vest’s edge. “Timeline can be tweaked, but I want it all.”

“Done.” Then he lifts my hand and kisses each of my fingers except the ring one. That one he sucks into his mouth and bites down around the base where his ring will go. When he backs away, perfect indentations of his teeth are thea second before a beautiful ring is slipped on.

The diamond sits right over his bite.

A platinum band holds a flawless princess-cut stone that catches the light, flashing subtle hints of plum from the amethyst beneath. Diamonds encircle the crown setting, and its unique beauty reminds me of a glittering skyline.

It’s perfect.

“Wow.” I can’t help the awe in my tone. Sure, I could continue to give him hell for making me an ol’ lady without the patch or asking for my permission, but I’m holding my hand out while the women around me coo and marvel.

Especially his mother and mine.

They hug with tears in their eyes before becoming completely different creatures.

“Do you have a color scheme in mind…”

Saint

“Why do I get the feeling this place is about to become overrun by women and magazines and…flowers?” Los, my treasurer, shudders. His wife, Tamara, is sitting next to mine across the room. All the women are, our mother’s included. They’re already discussing God knows what, taking notes, and all the shit I could give three fucks about.

The only thing that matters is that she’s mine. That my ring is on her finger.

That Genesis De La Cruz will always sit on the back of my bike.

I look over at her and catch her laughing at something Katia said, before taking an offered bottle of her favorite raspberry soda. They have her surrounded, everyone excited, but it’s her smile I’m spellbound by.

Fucking beautiful.

“There.”

“What?” Flow asks; he sits to my left, beer in hand. “What did I miss?”

“You see that smile?” They nod. Most of my brothers are sitting around me, a few tables pulled together and out of the way while we drink. Music plays in the background, a merengue from the early 90s my mother likes. “I don’t give a fuck about flowers, magazines, cake, or whatever else they decide takes over this compound for the next however many months. That smile on Genesis stays.”

It’s what I promised her father the day I went to him as her man. Her husband.

“Why am I not surprised, Santos.” Her father opens the door and steps back so I can enter. No one else is home, and he’s been tinkering with what looks to be an old laptop. A pulled-apart one. Dios. “I saw the way you looked at her outside the colmado that day, you know. How she reacted to you.”

“Then you know why I’m here.”

He puts on an annoyed face, but walks into the kitchen and comes back out with two beers. Sets them down and points at the chair beside his. “Go ahead. Ask.”

“I’m not asking. She’s mine.” I say, taking the seat and cerveza. “And I plan to keep it that way.”

His expression hardens. “Do you love her? Will you be faithful?”

“Yes. Always.” Then I give him the only promise that matters. “I’ll keep that beautiful smile on her face. And if I ever fail to do that, shoot me.”

Kaos tips his drink at me. “Saint, you know we’d never⁠—”