Saint (Angelview Academy #1) - E.M. Snow Page 0,80
our way from my room to the campus’ ballroom—yes, I attend a school with a ballroom. It’s already filling up with the entire school, and everyone’s dressed up like this is the Oscars or something.
Henry, Loni, and I walk into the ballroom arm-in-arm. I gasp when I see the decorations. Of course, I helped put them up, but that was in the light of day without the full effects on display.
“Damn, Loni.” I grin. “Y’all really outdid yourself for this one.”
“You’re so cute when you say that. Y’all.” Loni gazes around, looking pleased, as she should. “It does look spectacular, though, doesn’t it?”
We make our way further inside, and I can’t help but gaze around for any sign of Saint. Will he like my dress? He should, since he picked it out for me. That thought makes me shiver, and I’m suddenly very horny as well as tipsy. Saint hasn’t come to my room since the night Laurel poisoned me, and I’m aching for him.
God, what the hell has he done to me?
Finally, my eyes land on a tall blonde guy standing on the edge of the dancefloor. His mask is so similar to mine, I’ve no doubt in my mind that it’s Saint. We lock eyes from across the room, and he raises his hand to summon me over with a crook of his finger.
I hesitate a moment because I’m not sure I’m ready for a public display with him. Yet, he looks so tempting and mysterious all dressed up and masked like that, I’m having a hard time resisting him.
“Guys, I’ll be right back,” I tell Loni and Henry.
“We’ll be here!” she sings, but I think she’s too distracted by everyone around her congratulating her on such a good job putting the dance together, she doesn’t notice where I’m going.
I make my way over to the masked guy and stop in front of him.
“Happy?” I ask in a syrupy sweet voice as I bat my eyelashes.
He doesn’t say anything, just holds out his hand for me to take. I slip my palm against his, and instantly, something feels wrong.
“Wait—”
Before I can finish my sentence, the guy’s pulling me out to the dancefloor with him. I feel a fissure of apprehension course up my spine. I don’t think this is Saint. He looks a lot like him, at least with the mask, but he’s not quite as broad, though he is about the right height. This guy’s hands and fingers are longer and slenderer than Saint’s thick ones, and the way he’s touching me is possessive, but not … obsessive.
As Billie Eilish’s “You Should See Me in a Crown” plays over the speaker, the guy’s hand wraps around my waist and pulls me tight against him. His body his hard, and I’m pressed so tight to him, I can feel every line, every angle, everything. My cheeks flood with heat.
“Who are you?” I realize how rude that question sounds as soon as it’s out of my mouth. “Sorry, I mean, you’re obviously not who I thought you were.”
The guy shrugs, but still doesn’t speak. I try to see behind his mask, but it covers half his face, and the room is dim. I’m beginning to think I know him because there’s something very familiar about the way he holds himself, but I can’t quite put my finger on who it is. It’s clear by his mask that he’s the one who bought me this dress, but I can’t think of anyone other than Saint who’d be motivated to do so.
“Look, I’m all for a little mystery, but this is getting kind of weird.” I move to step out of his arms and end our dance, but his fingers tighten against me, and he holds me still as his head dips and captures my lips.
I gasp in shock, and his tongue sweeps into tangle with mine. This is definitely not Saint. I know Saint Angelle’s lips. I probably have every dip and curve of them memorized, and these aren’t them. Still, this guy’s a pretty good kisser. No, not pretty good.
Pretty epic.
With a strangled cry, I push the guy off me and glare up at him. “What the hell was that?”
“Was that not good for you? We can try again, if you’d like.”
I recognize that voice. Holy fuck, I know who this is.
Reaching up, I tear the mask from his face like I’m Scooby-Doo and he’s my bad guy. I gape up in disbelief at Liam.