Saint X Book Novels & Stories

Not the ugly, scarred, cracked-open pieces that had to survive long before Brandon ever happened. He knows the aftermath. The bruises and the blood. The hospital photos, the scars I couldn’t hide. But that’s just a chapter. There’s a whole damn book before that, and most of it doesn’t have happy endings. Xavier doesn’t know the things I’ve done. The people I’ve tricked. The way I’ve used my body just to stay warm, just to eat, just to make it through the night. He doesn’t know how survival can twist a person into something unrecognizable—and how easy it is to become numb when no one is watching.

“You have evil plans against me in the future.” Draymond shrugged. “Allow the future take care of itself. Live in the present for now, boy. You have the big opening. You can become a Sentinel today.” “So you think I should kill Jimin?” Xavier said, turning the book in his hands. “I didn’t say you should do anything,” Draymond frowned. “I just gave you the book that would best suit what you need to do right now.” Xavier turned the book over in his hands searching for a name. “This book was written by….” He turned the book around looking for the author’s name and he finally found it.

I ignored him, trying my best not to look at him, but I could feel his presence, so slowly I turned around and came face to face with Xander Saint. He looked at me, his emerald green eyes held mine captive and he held the tray just out of my reach as his 6ft5 height over- towering my 5ft5 frame. He often uses his height to intimidate people into getting what he wants. It works, too. People do what he says, even teachers turn a blind eye. His father, Nicodemus Robert Saint, was a highly respected business man in Harlowe who owned half the town's properties, and it's been said he had ties to the mafia and had the police, government officials, and the town's people all in his pocket, although n

His warm breath on my face, and that goddamn smirk of his that let me know he had won. “Look at me,” he instructed and I obeyed. I hadn’t noticed how dark his eyes were until now. They spoke of something evil that could only lurk in the depths of the ocean, and I hated to admit that they hypnotized me. My head fell back when the pressure built to unbearable heights, I needed a fucking release. I put my hand on his, urging him to go faster. Salvatore giving me a handjob did not mean I wasn’t straight. A girl could give me a handjob and I’d still feel the same. Liar.

I smile back as I put away another patient’s history. "You look so busy.” His eyes glancing at my hands. “What are you looking up at the computer?" "It's this medical mission thing." He sits next to me and stares at the screen too. "Hugo Saintclare, 30, the former Satellite Patrol lead vocalist who is now an eligible and well-respected businessman and music producer has now expanded his wealth to the less fortunate through charity works and his medical missions.” His eyebrows raising, “What a saint.” He commented. “I know right?”

"She predicted everything. That after I kidnapped your triplets you'd come to Xavier, then Xander would fall in love with you again, and so on." Fire burned through my veins. “YOU FUCKING DID WHAT?” Elenor tilted her head. "It's funny to see you fall so easily into the fate Azalea wove, but you shamelessly got greedy and wanted Xavier. I can't let you." I saw red. My surroundings blurred as I darted with fists swinging at the Saintess. She gasped, managing to dodge. I ducked, tripping the woman's leg. But she swept out a hand, sending a purplish light that pushed my body into the wall.

"Well that gave us absolutely nothing," Hunter threw his arms into the air before throwing himself onto the couch in exhaustion, "All this story told us was that Xavier was an alcoholic and Sophane had horrible taste in men." After finding the book in that cave we all headed back to the house, reading through what we could and attempting to find any hints that suggest where the siren realm might be.

Her aura swirling around her like a golden protective cloak, her armor as she faces the enemy. Saint is next into the room as his mother stands off against Reece, the queen smiling with an easy manner while Reece looks demented. I still feel my body starting to fade as breathing becomes heavy, I feel weak as Saint works to untie me. Everywhere our skin touch comes alive with the most intoxication sparks from our bond.

The stitches had dissolved, but the ridge remained, a vertical line drawn by the surgeon's knife, dividing me into before and after. My phone buzzed. Maria. I stepped into the sacristy, a small room that smelled of old incense and beeswax, and answered. "Signora," she whispered. Her voice had the texture of frayed silk. "It has arrived. The package. He... he opened it." I leaned against the cool stone wall. Outside, through the leaded glass, I could see the workmen arranging roses—white, funereal—around the pedestals. "Tell me," I said.

He found me dripping and soaked. “Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re dripping wet, little Saint.” he said and pushed two fingers inside me without warning. I gasped, gripping his shoulders, and then he began to pump slow and deep into me, curling his fingers to hit that spot that made me see stars. “Look at you,” he growled against my ear. “Taking a priest’s fingers in a dirty ban like a needy little slut.” I whimpered as I let my hips rock into his hand.