Chapter 11
IRENA'S POV
His eyes are entirely black and devoid of life.
As I stare into their empty nothingness. It is as if the abyss itself is staring back at me.
His features are sharp, topped with malice. A prickling sensation webs my nerves with fear yet conquered with interest eager to know what he might do.
Saint runs his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip. After a beat of tense silence, he grabs my face, his face inches away from mine, heat and disgust lick my core as his warm breath laced with whiskey and mint kisses the tip of my nose.
"You're going to regret saying those words little doe." He whispers as it sends unwanted chills traveling throughout my body.
In a blink of an eye Saint spins me around, he forces both my hands behind my back, my brows furrowed in confusion as to what he is about to do.
My questions are soon answered when I feel a fabric wrapping around my wrist till it's tightly in place. Trapping my hands from its ability to move.