Page 152 of Wrath

My head rolls in the lounger, feeling the bite of electricity in the mid-summer air as I look towards the tree-cladded driveway. Saint was due home half an hour ago, and I’m itching for him to get back so I can tell him about my last hidden secret.

We bought this place a few months ago; it’s far enough away from everything that there’s no haunting reminders of how our lives used to be, the focuses they were centred around. We’re still in Kingstone, just nestling in the borders of the next state.

It’s a stretch of land neither of us have been to. The grounds have only had the two of us walk on, making our own history on them.

Our home is a single story and all wooden facings, blending in with its natural habitat. There’s floor-to-ceiling windows that cast out the views of the dipping landscape, giving panoramic views so I can watch the sky glimmer with my favourite sight.

It’s usually his that does the trick.

It has enough widened corridors for me to think I can run from the devil, who loves nothing more than to chase me through them and into the woods.

It doesn’t feel the same as when we were younger; this time it’s two people who wear their own battle scars. Who’ve seen and lived through unspeakable amounts of darkness that most will never encounter in their lifetime.

And yet, they both bring nothing but the best out of each other, knowing just how sacred and precious the love is between them.

I let my eyes close over when the rain batters against the roof of the porch, the smell of the cold air bleeding through the rupture in temperature as the storm rages on. Goosebumps prickle my skin. I’m only in one of his T-shirts. Seeing as there’s no one around for miles, I can wear whatever the hell I want.

That’s when I feel it.

The skin bubbling against my nerve endings, the one my butchered heart calls out to, making himself known. Only because he wants to.

“Sorry I’m late, darling.” Saint’s warm hands cup either side of my jaw, tilting my head to look up at him standing behind me.

“You know how I like my apologies,” I whisper against his lips, tasting the menthol, his smile brushing over mine as he kisses me, deepening it whilst his hands angle me.

The thunder rumbling above us is no match for the rumble in his chest. “Wicked woman.”

When he lets go, he stalks around to face in front of me, his silhouette almost unnerving as he stands against the late evening storm, looking like my very own hellbent guardian angel.

His short hair is damp with the rain, the white shirt soaked and revealing the artwork of his tattoos as the darkened ink bleeds through the material.

And when the lightning cracks across the sky behind him, reminding me exactly who I have before me, my pulse skyrockets.

“You should be used to it by now,” I say, watching as he reaches up to drag his fingers through his hair, leaving it that messy way that makes mine burn to do the same.

He hums a laugh as he reaches for the packet, pulling out a cigarette and sliding it between his lips, the amber light sparking from his lighter against his handsome face. “Oh, I know how it goes, baby. You walk by my side; I kneel at your feet.”

The smoke curls around him as he slowly drops to his knees before me, eyes darkening when I open my legs wide for him to crawl to me, and he places a kiss against my inner thigh. That hungry gaze drags up to mine. “And there’s nothing I enjoy more than worshiping my fucking wife.”

When his palm snakes from my ankle all the way to my stomach, I hold it there, grabbing the cigarette from his other and pinging over the deck. “Maybe you’ll have two Queens to spoil soon.”

His brows bunch in confusion, and I give his hand a soft squeeze, watching those beautiful eyes go from mine to where I hold his hand.

Saint’s irises soften to a shade I’ve never known possible. He wets his lips, his voice like velvet when he struggles to speak. “You’re…”

I had my suspicions a couple of weeks ago. I got the IUD removed after we moved out of the Pit and never bothered to replace it. Mostly because my life was a busy blur after that, too caught up that I was finally getting the chance to truly live it.

That was months ago, and Saint and I having our own place in the middle of nowhere now, living mostly undisturbed? Well, we’ve had a hell of a time. “Apparently there’s another female to boss you arou—”

I don’t get a chance to finish. Saint silences me with a kiss that makes my heart explode, and it’s either the hormones, or the surrealness of this moment that fills me with a feeling I once thought I’d never experience.

He grips the back of my neck, pressing a harsh kiss to my forehead, then my cheek, and then my lips. “You keep blowing my expectations on just how much more I can fucking love you.”

He pulls me from my spot, swapping so that I’m straddling him, and kisses me from within an inch of my life. The butterflies escaping my chest at our shot of forever spread theirwingspan to full capacity, and flutter harder with each rumble of thunder above us.

And it couldn’t be a more perfect way to describe our story.

We’re both dark, morally twisted creatures, moulded by the same forces who tried to conspire against us. We fight dirty for what’s ours; the love will never know any boundaries.

We’ll be the villains in others’ stories, but in ours, we’re the perfect blend.

All good has evil; every darkness has its light.

Every sinner needs their Saint.

The end.