There Are No Saints (Sinners, #1)

by Sophie Lark

I forget about Cole. I forget about everything outside of the painting. Time flows by while I stand still. I don’t even realize someone has walked through the door until Cole says, “First a saint, now a demon.”

He’s jealous. He’s admitting that he’s jealous. Cole runs his thumb across my lower lip. My sweat is gasoline. Every place he touches ignites on fire. I hear a sharp click and the cold clasp of a manacle closing around my wrist. Before I can move, before I can even glance down at my own wrist, Cole takes three swift steps, dragging me toward the wall. He yanks my arms over my head and handcuffs me in place, the chain wrapped around an exposed pipe.

“I know everything about you, Mara. Everything,” he murmurs. “I know you fucked him to defy me. To show me that I can’t control you. And maybe I can’t control you—not all the time. But you were given to me.”

“I own you now, Mara. You belong to me, whether you like it or not.”

“I can’t have another man’s mark on you.” “I designed that tattoo,” I hiss. “I designed a better one.”

He reaches inside the doctor’s bag. Pulling out a tattoo gun. “Are you insane?” I shriek. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ve been practicing the last few hours.” “On who?!” He just smiles.

In fact, his bare hands on my flesh feel surprisingly pleasurable, in contrast to the bite of the needle.

“I don’t know why you always want to fight me,” he says. “It’s so much more pleasurable to give me what I want . . .” “More pleasurable for who?” I gasp. “For both of us.”

He slips his hand down the front of my overalls. I’m not wearing any underwear. I never did get around to washing my laundry. His touch is gentler than I expected. I thought it would be as brutal as his kiss. Instead, it’s almost soothing . . .

The pain enhances the pleasure, and the pleasure enhances the pain.

“Oh my god . . .” I moan. “Don’t stop . . .” “Tell me you’re mine . . .” he hisses. “Tell me I can do whatever I want to you . . .” I press my lips together, refusing to say it.

“Say it.”

“Say it, Mara. Tell me you belong to me . . .” I want to say it. I want to give in.

“SAY IT,” he snarls. “No fucking way,” I hiss back at him.

He branded me. Put his mark on me forever. And it’s beautiful. Truly fucking beautiful.

In all my years of figure drawing, I’ve never seen a body like his.

“You want me to . . . sketch it out first?” I say weakly. Cole doesn’t move. He doesn’t even turn his head. “I trust you,” he says. I’m a hot mess. Nobody has ever trusted me, especially not with something as irreversible as this.

Two snakes: one white, one black. Twisted and entwined with one another—their alternating coils tightly wrapped, but their mouths open to show their snarling fangs. I branded him just as he did to me.

Mara doesn’t seem to notice. I’ve never seen someone so comfortable in their own body, or so careless of other people’s opinions.

lovely — Billie Eilish

“Because I like when you pay attention to me. I like when you put your hands on me. The other night at the show . . . I felt like you were pushing me away. That hurt me.”

“I was pushing you away,” I admit. “Why?” “Because I didn’t have control.” “Over what?” “Over how much I wanted you.”

“What do you see right now?” I ask her. “I see you,” she says. “I’m just wondering . . .” “What?” “If it’s another mask.” My face goes cold and still. “And if it is?” “Then you use the best one on me.”

“What if I took it off? And you didn’t like what you saw underneath?” Mara slips her hand into mine. Her fingers interlock with mine. They fit together like links in a chain. “I shouldn’t like you now,” she says. “But I do.” I shouldn’t like her, either. But I do.

“You surprise me, Cole.” I’m surprised, too. Surprised at the sound of my name on her lips. How it rings like a bell, clear and true. She stands on tiptoe, stretching up to kiss me. Soft and slow. Warmer than the rising sun between us.

he knew that love is inherently dangerous.”

“All emotions are dangerous. Especially when they involve other people.”

“Have you ever loved anyone?” I ask. “Or were you just voicing a theory?” I can sense him going still, considering the question. This is one of the things I like about Cole: he doesn’t just say whatever pops into his head. Every word that comes out of his mouth is deliberate. “I don’t know,” he says at last.

“Loving someone gives them power over you,” Cole says.

obsession is not the same thing as affection.

“I’ll walk you to work,” he says. I shake my head at him, laughing. “I’ve lived in this city for twenty-six years, and I’ve walked every inch of it. Alone.” “I don’t give a shit what you did before you met me. It’s different now.”

I am glad he’s with me after all.

Knowing that he’s close by is comforting.

The moment I bend over, I feel a sharp slap on my ass. I wheel around, catching Blue Shirt on top of the bar. I’m about to shout for Tony, our bouncer, but Cole is faster. I barely have time to open my mouth before he’s appeared behind Blue Shirt like a pale grim reaper. He doesn’t grab the guy’s shoulder—doesn’t even offer a warning. Faster than I can blink, he snatches up the closest beer bottle and smashes it across the back of Blue Shirt’s skull.

“What were you thinking?” I cry when I finally catch my breath. “You could have killed that guy!” “I hope I did,” Cole says.

“You can’t mean that.” “Absolutely I do. He disrespected you. Put his hands on you. I’d kill him for much less.”

Erin grins. “When god handed out tits, I got in line three times.” I laugh. “Apparently I slept in and missed the whole thing.”

Cole keeps his eyes on the road. He only pulls his gaze away for a moment to run those dark eyes up and down my body, murmuring, “You’re stunning.”

Fucking hell . . . he smashed his favorite glasswork because of me?

He grips my arm with iron-hard fingers. “Don’t fucking test me,” he hisses. Why do I like that? Why is warmth flushing all the way down my legs? Jesus, I’m so fucked up.

Cole rubs his thumb across my cheekbone, over my lips. Then he licks the paint off my mouth. I kiss him back, the earthy paint coating my tongue. The heat, the scent of Cole’s skin, and the chemical taste makes my head swim.

“You don’t want to know what I used for my paint . . .”

“I don’t care if you’re good for me,” I say. I kiss him deep and hard. I kiss him like he kissed me at the art show—like I’ll eat him alive.

“She’s my student. And she only learns from me. So stay the fuck away from her.” “You’re so territorial,” Alastor growls. “You need to learn how to share.” “Never,” Cole snarls back at him. “Keep your distance. I’m not fucking around this time.”

“You think you know what you’re talking about?” Cole hisses. ”I filet people with precision. This guy does what I do BADLY. You have no fucking idea what I’m capable of.”

The air freezes all around me. Sweat turns to ice on my skin. I can’t speak. I can’t draw breath. I can’t even blink. He could kill me in this moment . . . I’m too scared to move. Instead, he turn and walks away. Leaving me there alone.

And, as difficult as it is for me to admit . . . that’s exactly what I’ve done. I’m fixated on her. Obsessed with her, even.

I don’t like playing defense. I’d rather be hunting than waiting. Shaw exposes himself, coming out alone at night.

I’m me. Myself. The only one like me.

Shaw called them. He trapped me in here with his latest kill. And I walked right into it, in the stupidest mistake I’ve ever made.