Savage Saints (Monsters of Saint Mark's)

“What are you so deep in thought about?” I ask.

He turns, smiling, his dick hanging between his legs. I guess I’m getting used to that, but it’s still jarring. “It’s snowing,” he says.

“It is?”

“Not here. Out there.” He points in the direction of the lake. “The weather doesn’t change here much. It gets a little cool around February and a little bit hotter than usual in August, but mostly it’s always the same.”

I sit up, leaning on my elbow. “Yeah. I think I noticed that the very first day. The grass was still green even though it was November.”

“It must have been a big storm last night.”

“Why do you say that?” I ask.

Pell walks over to the bed, leans down, and kisses me. I smile up at him, wondering for like the millionth time how I got here. He straightens up and says, “Because there’s a little bit of ice on the lake and snow on the shore. That part of the forest is part of the curse, so the storm must’ve been bad for it to leak through.”

“Huh. Does that mean anything?”

Pell shrugs. “Not sure. But we should keep an eye on it.”

I get out of bed and drape my arms casually over his shoulders. I like being taller than before. We’re not eye to eye, but at least I don’t only come up to his chest anymore. “What are you gonna do today?”

“Work on the bag.”

“Blacksmithing.” I shoot him a teasing smile. “It’s very sexy, Pell.”

“Is it?”

“Mmm-hmm.” I kiss him again and when he kisses me back, all I want to do is slip back under the covers and stay in bed all day.

But a monster calls for me from below.

“Dammit,” I mutter.

“It’s Eyebrows. He’s been waiting for you to wake up for twenty minutes.”

“What’s he want?”

“I think he brought you clothes.”

“Ohhh.” This perks me up. Pell hands me a satin robe and I slip it on. “Well, I wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”

Pell pats my butt as I pass by, then follows me downstairs.

Eyebrows is sitting at the kitchen table drinking a mug of something. Maybe coffee. Next to him is an entire rack of clothes. He points to it, says something I don’t understand, then gets up and walks out.

“Well,” Pell says, “that was enlightening.”

I chuckle and walk over to the rack of clothes, dragging my fingertips across the various garments.

“No skirts,” Pell says.

I tsk my tongue at him. “Stop it. That skirt was not that short. And anyway, no one was looking at me. I was frumpy compared to the other women in Vinca City.”

“Vinca?”

“Yeah.” I pull a gorgeous purple silk wraparound blouse out of the rack and hold it up. “That’s the name of the city where I work.” Then I place it in front of me and turn to get Pell’s opinion. “Have you ever heard of it?”

Pell shakes his head, pulls another hanger off the rack—a sweater with long sleeves and a very high cowl-neck collar—and trades me for the silk. “Nope.”