Sainted

Sainted Jesse H Reign Copyright Copyright © 26 Oct 2022 Jesse H Reign All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical review and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Any references to historical events, real people or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination. Book formatting by Jesse H Reign Cover design by MIBLart This book contains dark themes, dry humour, off page violence and one instance of a richly deserved spanking. If you like enemies-to-lovers where the enemy part lasts the whole way through, you're going to love this. Dedication For my lovely friend Elsie. It's quite comical to imagine where I'd be without you. Thanks for your help, and advice, and endless support, but most of all, thanks for making me laugh till I snort. Contents 1. Demon 2. Asshole 3. Demon 4. Asshole 5. Demon 6. Asshole 7. Demon 8. Asshole 9. Demon 10. Saint 11. Demon 12. Saint 13. Demon 14. Saint 15. Demon 16. Saint 17. Demon 18. Demon 19. Demon 20. Demon 21. Demon 22. Demon 23. Demon 24. Saint 25. Demon 26. Saint 27. Demon 28. Demon 29. Saint 30. Demon 31. Demon 32. Saint 33. Demon 34. Saint 35. Demon 36. Saint 37. Demon THANK YOU FOR READING SAINTED ABOUT SAINTED A LITTLE ABOUT ME Chapter 1 DemonPanic hits the second I try to open my eyes. I’m lying down. I’m groggy. My brain is functioning slowly. I try to open my eyes. Everything’s black. Pitch black. My eyes are burning and there’s something thick and scratchy over my face. I try to inhale and start to struggle when I realize I can’t get a good breath. Whatever is covering my eyes, is covering my mouth and nose too. I start gasping. Shit. Something’s wrong. Seriously wrong. I try to sit up. I can’t. I’m restrained. My wrists are encased in cold metal. It bites into my skin when I try to move. I start to struggle to no avail. My movement is severely limited and I can hear the chilling sound of metal on metal when I move. My pulse starts to race. Where the fuck am I?“Where am I?” I yell. “What the fuck’s going on?” I start thrashing, kicking my legs frantically. They’re free, not bound. I dig my feet into whatever I’m lying on and feel myself bounce around a little. Feels like I might be on a bed. It’s not super soft, but it’s softer than a solid surface would be. My heart’s beating out of my ribcage. I feel like my chest is closing. Each breath is faster and shorter than the last. My mind is racing and foggy at the same time. What happened?Have I been drugged?I try to think of the last thing I remember. It was night-time. I was out. I was out at that new club, Slay. Lacey was there. The music was loud. People were dancing. I was drunk, but no drunker than usual. Less drunk if anything. I wasn’t enjoying the vibe. I should have perfect recall of what happened. I wrack my brain. My memory of the night is disjointed. It’s coming through in bits and pieces, like broken fragments of a bad dream. I remember a guy. I don’t remember his face. I remember the pressure of his hand on my upper arm. I don’t remember leaving Slay. My eyes start to sting. Jesus, I think something really bad has happened. My chest starts to heave.Wait, I tell myself. Calm down. Think, think, think. My attempt to calm myself down is unsuccessful. Even as I urge myself to think clearly, I hear my own voice screaming, “Help! Help! HELP!”“Oh, Jesus. Looks like we’ve got a screamer,” says a bored sounding voice from across the blackness. I freeze. There’s someone else here. Fear seeps through me and settles in my lower legs. I’m almost grateful to be lying down, for if not, I’m positive I wouldn’t have remained upright. I’m acutely aware that anytime I’ve ever thought I felt fear before, I was wrong. I’ve never been afraid before. Never. Not like this. Not like I am now. I hear heavy footsteps. They’re coming my way. Every muscle in my body contracts. My body twists reflexively as I try to hide my head behind the crook of my arm. I hear a long, exasperated sigh. “Do you want it off, or not?”I keep still. There’s pressure on my face. It’s heavy and rough. A split second later, whatever was covering my eyes is yanked off. I blink into the unnaturally bright light. There’s a naked bulb hanging in the center of the room. The filament burns into my retina like a brand. It takes several seconds for my eyes to adjust. When they do, I find myself looking straight into the face of the man who has taken me. He has dark hair. Short. Shaved back and sides. His eyes are dark, too. Brown. Shit brown. His nose has been broken badly at some point in the past. More than once, by the look of it. It’s flattened and dips in at the center of his bridge and veers slightly to the left. He has a deep scar cutting into one eyebrow. I don’t need to take in the rest of him in to know he’s rough. Most likely dangerous. A fission of fear slices through me.I scoot myself into as much of a seated position as I can manage, trying to get as far away from him as I can. “Where am I?” I demand. “Why am I here? Who the fuck are you?” My voice gets higher and higher with each word.“D’you want me to knock him out?”