Playboy Princes (Royals of Arbon Academy, #2)(52)

“Just… a friend.” I kept it as vague as possible without outright refusing to answer. If Zach, the man-whoring asshole, really did hold the power to ban me from fights, I didn’t want to risk landing on his bad side.

He gave me a tight smile. “Well, I’m glad Fallen Angel convinced you to fight again. You made quite an impression during your debut.” His eyes flashed with a kind of feral gleam that I could only explain as greed. He’d made money tonight, no question about it. But hang on a second…

“Fallen Angel… convinced me?” I repeated, shooting Rafe a dark look from the corner of my eye. He wasn’t looking at me, though, as his murderous rage was fully seated on Zach. “Yep, he sure was convincing.” Like how he extracted a favor out of me in exchange for letting me fight. Motherfucker was always going to get me in! “Was that all? We, uh, have places to be.”

A leering grin pulled at Zach’s lips as he eyed my exposed neck. “I just bet you do. All that adrenaline…” He licked his lips—not even joking. Licked them like some kind of excited voyeur. “I’ll cut to the chase. Our society wants to extend a membership invitation to you, Violence. A woman of your considerable skill would be quite an asset to our ranks.”

My brows shot up, surprise holding my tongue long enough for Rafe to react. A split second later, Zach’s body slammed into the wall with Rafe’s injured hand wrapped around his throat.

It shouldn’t have been hot. It really shouldn’t. But fuck if my catsuit wasn’t a bit damp between the legs from watching the blood seep through my makeshift bandage when he tightened his grip.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he demanded of Zach, his voice a threatening rumble. “There are rules, like you just reminded me. She’s only fought in two events.”

Zach, for what it was worth, didn’t look scared or, really, anything more than pissed off. He placed a hand against Rafe’s chest and pushed him firmly away, letting a silent war for dominance play out in their angry glares.

When Rafe took a micro-step away and released the other guy’s throat, I allowed the breath I’d been holding to puff out.

“Two fights that senior members of the society were present at,” Zach replied, as though he hadn’t just been threatened with strangulation. “They were impressed. The offer has been made, and that’s my job done.” He shot a pointed look at me, past my guard dog’s broad shoulders. “Think about it, Violence. The resistance could be the home you’ve always been looking for.”

Shock washed over me like an ice-cold wave, and I said nothing as Zach disappeared back into the darkness without any further explanation.

The society was the resistance? And they’d just issued me an invitation into their group.

Wait…

“You’re part of the resistance? Or you at least know people who are,” I hissed at Rafe. “You’re a fucking prince. They’re trying to take the monarchies down.”

He shook his head at me. “Not here. This is no place to discuss this shit.” He started to move. “Come on; Jordan will be pissing himself with worry that we’re not back yet.”

My hand shot out, and I grabbed his wrist, halting him. “Not so fucking fast, Angel-boy,” I snarled. “I need some answers. Right freaking now.”

The stubborn fucking look on his face told me he wasn’t playing ball, but I was never going to be that girl who blindly accepted a bland “trust me” just because she was getting good orgasms out of the deal. Nope, Violet Rose Spencer was no pushover.

“Tell me, or I swear to fuck, I’ll sneak into your room while you’re sleeping and tattoo ‘little bitch’ right on your forehead.” My grip on his arm was like steel, and my voice was even harder.

He shifted slightly, peering back at me like he wanted to check if I was serious.

“Where would you get a tattoo gun?” he teased, but I was so far from being in the mood for games.

“You want to fucking try me, Rafael?” My threat dripped from every word, and his body stiffened with the slightest tell. He believed me, and it was a damn good thing because it’d be such a shame to mess up his pretty face. I’d still do it, though.

A heavy sigh gusted from his lungs. “Fine. But like I said, not here. It’s not safe… which that weasel-dick bastard Zach damn well knows.”

“Fine,” I shot back, my jaw clenched in anger and frustration and… fear. “Where, then?”

He gave me a small headshake and flipped his palm reader open. “Come on. I’ll tell the guys to meet us there.”





Ugh. I should have guessed where he would take me.

“They might be a minute,” Rafe told me, stepping aside to allow me into the secret underground apartment that I’d been inside of just once before. After my last fight night… when Rafe and I….

Ugh.

“You want to shower or something?” he suggested, closing the door after us and setting the lock. From what I’d seen—this time I’d been paying attention—the door was locked with a keypad entry. Jordan and Nolan must also have the code.

“No,” I snapped, totally helpless to stop my mind’s looping replay of the scene from the last time we were here. How I’d threatened to take care of myself in the shower, and it had ended with Rafe—“I just want answers, okay?”