Cruel Prince (Royal Hearts Academy, #1)(32)

He stumbles back. The hand covering his eye flies to his neck and he coughs.

Half the people surrounding us gasp in surprise, while the other half encourage Oakley to sock me back.

But he won’t. He can’t. I’ve knocked the wind out of him temporarily.

It’s exactly the position I wanted him in. Unable to fight back, but also too proud to ask someone for help while a girl beats his ass.

He lunges toward me, and for a split-second, I think he’s going to hit me, but he starts walking away instead.

I’m not done with him yet.

Taking hold of his shirt, I wrench the material until it rips, and he’s forced to face me again.

“Tell everyone the truth,” I demand.

“About what?”

Wrong answer. My knee goes straight into his nuts.

He doubles over in pain. “Jesus Christ.”

I grab a fist full of his dark blond hair, compelling him to look at me. “Tell them the truth.”

“Fine. I didn’t fuck you.” His laughter is taunting. “I’m not that desperate.”

I take another swing at his face with my free hand. Blood splatters across the front of my white shirt like drops of rain on a windshield.

“You crazy bitch,” he barks as he tilts his head, attempting to halt the blood trickling from his nose.

He’s not wrong. I made my point and I should stop, but I can’t.

It feels too good.

My palm connects with his cheek. “Who’s the bitch now?”

“I swear to fucking God,” he roars, pushing me away.

“What’s the matter?” I mock, sailing my knee into his junk for a second time. “Getting tired of having your ass handed to you by a girl in front of the whole school?”

He’s crouched over grabbing his balls, but I hear a low snarl break free. I can tell it was the straw that broke the camel’s back and he’s going to charge me any second.

I must be more deranged than I thought, because I want him to.

“Come on,” I prompt as I smack him again and again, battering his back so many times I lose count. My vision turns glassy. “Hit me, bi—”

A pair of strong arms wrap around me and I’m airborne against my will briefly. I kick my legs as they begin towing me away, but their iron-clad grip is unyielding.

I assume it’s a teacher or security guard, but when I glance down at the arm around my midsection, I notice the sleeves of his white shirt are rolled up, showcasing veiny muscular forearms and perfectly bronzed skin I’d recognize anywhere.

“Let me go, Jace,” I grit through my teeth. “I’m not finished with your precious boy yet.”

Jealousy coats my insides and I make no effort to conceal it.

I loathe Oakley for starting rumors about me. I detest him for telling everyone about my dad in such a messed-up way and humiliating me.

But I’m straight-up bitter about him taking my place as Jace’s best friend.

I’m full-on fuming, high on adrenaline and anger by the time Jace drags me into a storage closet and locks the door.

The single dim bulb swinging above us like a pendulum illuminates his tall, lean frame enough that I make out the sharp line of his jaw and the perfect shape of those full lips.

My reaction to his close proximity is visceral. Instantly, my pulse, my breathing, my emotions—slam into overdrive.

When I was a kid, I didn’t understand why I’d experience such an extreme response whenever he was near, but now I do.

No one in the whole wide world has the power to make me feel both love and hate simultaneously the way Jace Covington does.

He’s the yin to my yang. The down to my up. The crazy to my normal.

The damaged pieces to all my broken parts.

I could befriend every single person on the planet, and no one will ever know me the way he does.

No one will ever come close to making me feel so alive or light my soul on fire.

No one will ever hurt me more.

“Look, I don’t kn—”

“Shut up.” In two strides he’s closing the distance between us, pinning me against the wall. “You’re not the one calling the shots this time.”

Clearly his memory is different than mine because I’ve never called any of the shots when it came to us.

“What do you want from me?”

Why are you treating me like I’m lower than dirt?

His gaze drops down to my chest and his expression darkens. “Not a damn thing.”

He might want to believe that, but his eyes betray him. They’re full of longing and desire, despite all his hostility.

I press a palm to his chest and his heart rate speeds up. “You sure about that?”

My breathing hitches as his hand slithers up the front of my shirt, intentionally resting between my breasts before traveling up to my throat. “Let’s get one thing straight.” I jolt in surprise when he grips the back of my neck. “What I felt for you back then doesn’t exist anymore.”

We both know that isn’t true otherwise he wouldn’t be in a closet with me. Again.

My chest aches as the vivid memory of the last time I saw him washes over me. “Then why are you here?”

His heated stare burns like the sun. “You were right.” I see the glint of metal on his tongue before he dips his head and licks the column of my throat. “There is something I still want.”