Jealousy Turning Saints Into The Sea の小説・ストーリー

"I am the only one who understands Saint. And he is mine. There is nothing wrong with wanting what's mine. And do you know why I am sure he will always come back to me? It's because Saint doesn't like girls with dark pasts, and I can see that you do from a mile away. You don't know the rules of this game, and it will bore him out." I open my mouth to speak, but she holds her hand up, cutting me off. “You can ask him about Venice. Ask him what happened to the last girl he tried to rescue, just like you. Then, you’ll understand.” Before I can say something, I hear the elevator ding, and Gianna hears it too, as her whole body freezes. Saint appears beside me at the doorway, but his eyes narrow

My stomach swirled with bile as the last container was opened, and the stench of death filled the meadow while groups of people whispered angrily, turning to glare at me. Saint lifted himself out of the last container, heading straight for me as tears swam in my eyes. There was nothing but rage and hatred to be found in him. He grabbed my arm, yanking me with him as he walked me toward the pit. He didn't miss a step as he jumped, pulling me down with him.

I was a sucker for pretty faces. The only reason I agreed to date Isabelle was because she was passable-looking as partner material. It had only been a few days since junior year started when my roommate came over to me and awkwardly said, "Damian, I just spotted your girlfriend getting pretty close to that well-known broke pretty boy by the campus lake." I immediately rolled up my sleeves and rushed toward the lake. From a distance, I saw Isabelle standing very close to a slim young man. But the moment I got a good look at his face, I froze. "Damn! This guy was insanely handsome!" He was so good-looking that even I, as another guy, was jealous. Isabelle frowned and stepped in front of me.

if he ever suspected, even a little, that I am not some humble human priest but also a motherfucking monster hidden inside a black holy cloth. As we all settled around the fireplace, silence sliced us like some knife...screams of agony surrounded the entire realm. Her screams, and then sounds of cheers and claps...then more screams and cries. I don't think I could bear her pain if I even go there...I might definitely snap at those foolish werewolves for being so happy while Freya is clearly in pain.

He stood in the center of Bella Vida Salon, surrounded by the scent of expensive oils and silver hair, feeling like a monster that had forgotten how to wear human skin. "I’m sorry, Isaac. That’s—I don't know where my head is." Santiago’s voice was a rough rasp. "I shifted into something irrational. Jealousy is a pathetic look for a man I just met yesterday." Isaac didn't stop sweeping. The rhythmic swish of the broom was the only sound. "Especially for a fake mate." "Fake. Right." Santiago's hands felt too large for his pockets. "No excuse for acting like a possessive prick. It's been years since I ran with anyone. I’m out of practice on what’s civil."

A mate, maybe even a child and a very happy me, but why was things turning out this way? Why does the moon goddess have to be so cruel?! It seemed like I had displeased the moon goddess in some way because at that moment, I felt something or someone grab onto the back of my dress. I stumbled backwards, a small gasp leaving my mouth as I twisted my head around to stare at who had caught me. “Did you really think you could run from us, you slut?” The warden snarled, his grip against the back of my dress tightened. The fabric clung tightly around my neck, making it hard to breathe. I tried to slap his hands away, forcing myself forward to see if the fabric might rip.

Horror and rage explode in my chest. “No!” I shout. I surge up from my chair, knocking it backward. “You lie! Get out of my head!” The room goes dead silent. All of them stare at me with wide eyes. Joseph reaches for me. Bernard stands up slowly. “Elias, what is happening?” Joseph asks. I don’t hear them at first. I point at the statue. “You will not speak those things. I cast you out by the blood of Christ!” The invisible hand strokes faster. I groan and double over, gripping the table. Holy oil spills from the vial as I fumble for it. I pour some on my head, rub it frantically over my face and neck. I flick the last holy water toward the statue.

Maybe saints didn’t live in statues, but in stubborn girls who sang lullabies to their own shadows. Thunder growled in the distance, the Saints’ answer to my retreat. But this time, the storm felt different—not an end, but a beginning. ******

I heard the jealousy in me crawl out slowly through my voice. He turned my face to look at me and then watched me in amusement before tracing his hands to my stomach and then into the skirt caressing my upper thighs. A moan escaped my lips and I bit my lower lips in an attempt to stop another from doing the same. My hands beside me gripped the wall, helping my shaky legs from giving up on me. "Baby girl, I can do whatever I want to cause I'm Saint," He said scornfully. "You can't do the same because I own you," He added. "I'm the only one that can make you feel this way."

I trembled, my whole body trembled. Elaine? My Elaine? How could she? No. No. Elaine was my girl. She would never do that, she would never stand by something like Callisto or that damn phoenix. My nails sank into the face of that one in front of me and I saw him scream. "Don’t lie" growled "the saint of God would never cling to something like that!" "I SWEAR!" he cried as golden tears fell from his eyes "I SWEAR, MY LORD! I SWEAR! The saint and the phoenix... both cast me out, they threw me away and the phoenix sealed itself next to it..."