Reckless Souls (Saints Academy, #1)(2)
Whatever the future may hold, it can only end with light and happiness now.
Chapter 1
Rhea
R age courses through my body as I march down the sidewalk. Fire burns under my skin as the
red shiny target of my emotional chaos comes into view.
That motherfucker.
That damn motherfucking cuntish… cunt.
“Rhea. Fuck, wait, Rhea!” he calls out from behind me, likely stepping out of his house with
nothing but a sheet wrapped around his waist, but I don’t bother to turn around to confirm.
He can choke on a bag of dicks, while he stays as far away from me as possible.
My pulse pounds in my ears as my palms sweat from the desire to give him a physical response
instead of a verbal one. I reach into my jeans pocket to retrieve my house key. Slowing my steps,
determination takes over as I look down at my hand to find my mini Stanley knife keyring.
Dante, that motherfucking asshole, bought it for me when we started dating ten months ago. He’s
going to regret that by the time I’m done.
“You mean everything to me, Rhea. I need you to be safe at all times.”
Ha. Those were the words he’d uttered as he handed it over so long ago.
What a whole heap of bullshit that is. Or maybe he should have been more specific with what he
actually meant.
“I want you safe at all times, especially while you’re working so I can fuck my neighbor.”
I fucking hate how mad it makes me because I let my walls down for this guy. Well, I considered
it, offered him nothing but my body, but there’s no respect in this. Not an ounce, and I, at least,
respected him. Our embarrassment of a relationship, if that’s what you could even call it, is a
complete shambles after what I just saw.
“Rhea,” Dante hollers again, his voice getting closer as I stop beside his most prized possession;
a shiny, red Porsche. I’m sure those obsessed with cars would scoff at my simple description of the
vehicle, but that’s all it is to me.
Turning to face the asshole shuffling toward me, with his gray sheet wrapped around his waist
like a greek god, I almost chuckle at the absurdity.
If only he was a God. Then I could have him wipe this shit from my mind or something.
But we’re not in Paradise Heights where the supernaturals live their best life. No, we’re down
here in Phoenix Valley among the rest of the mundane humans.
The way his brown hair is ruffled, the dark stubble on his jawline taunting me, I want to reach out
to him. This is, was, my favorite version of Dante; after sex. But that can’t count when it’s someone
else who’s been running their fingers through his soft hair. Now the thought makes me recoil and I
mentally slap myself for even wanting to touch him. I hate feeling weak because that’s not the type of
woman I am.
His gray eyes plead with mine, desperate for me to understand that he magically slipped, his dick
falling inside her by accident, leaving him just as shocked as I am.
No second chances.
No forgiveness.
No disappointment.
I’ve lived by those rules for twenty-two years. I’m not about to change them for him.
Not now.
Not on my fucking birthday.
But even if it wasn’t, I still wouldn’t bend my words-to-live-by and disrespect myself in the
process. That ship set sail long ago.
I run my tongue over my teeth, keeping my face neutral as I stare at him with eyes void of emotion.
I can feel people watching us, but I don’t tear my gaze from him. It probably includes the woman he
was just fucking, wanting a front row seat to the drama she just caused.
Whoreish… whore.
Twirling the mini blade in my hand, I flick the switch over as I turn to look at his shiny, red,
fucking Porsche.
“Please, Rhea, let me—”
He doesn’t utter another word as I lean forward, tracing my fingertips along the top of the hood,
down the fender with the blade in hand, making it look like I’m about to key his car. But instead, I
slightly crouch and swing out to my left, piercing the sharp edge into the front right tire.
I want him to taste a touch, even a pinch, of my anger, and this will at least release some pent up
rage inside me. Before he’s really caught up with the situation, I’m taking a step back, and repeating
the motion again, relishing in the symphonic hissing sound that surrounds me.
“Fuck, Rhea, stop! What are you doing to my girl?” he growls, storming toward me, one hand
around the sheet and the other clenched at his side, but I slip around the back of the car, repeating the
same motion once more on the back left tire, before finally stepping away and looking at my
handiwork, a satisfied grin appearing on my lips. “Rhea!”
Now he’s angry.
Good.
Always leave the last tire, Rhea. Don’t let this fucker get away with not paying anything
because of insurance.
Standing tall, I meet his gaze over the roof of the car, outrage shining in his eyes as he gapes at the
mess I’ve just made of his precious girl.