Savage Royals: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance(9)

The stairs were broad, and there was plenty of space for all three of us on the landing, but as soon as my feet cleared the last step, I felt like all the oxygen had evaporated from my lungs.

Maybe it was because the tall guy who was too beautiful for his own good hadn’t moved back to make room for me, and we stood only a few feet apart. He smelled like cedar and spice, and I found myself licking my lips, as if I could capture a little of that delicious aroma on my tongue.

He didn’t miss it either. His gaze tracked the movement, and his eyes sparked with something like satisfaction, even though the anger in them still burned hot and dark, like a fire behind his irises.

“What class?”

His voice was low, and I had to blink and shake my head before I could get my mouth to work well enough to answer him.

“US History.”

“Let’s see.”

He held his hand out again, and I extended the schedule toward him. I expected him to take it from me, but instead, his large hand clamped around my wrist, pulling me even closer to him. I stumbled in surprise, and my heart slammed in my chest as everything about him invaded the bubble of my space—his breath, his scent, his tall form. The slightly crumpled schedule filled the small space between us, as if the two of us had our heads bent over a treasure map.

“304C. That’s in Hammonds. We’re in Craydon. It’s the building west of here.”

He didn’t release his hold on my wrist as he spoke, and I could feel his friend’s gaze on us. Cole, he’d called him.

“Okay. Thanks.”

I pulled my arm out of his grip, prepared to retrace my path out of the building, but he finally stepped back, gesturing up the stairwell. “Go to the third floor. Take a left. There’s a skyway between this building and Hammond at the end of the hall.” His lips tilted in a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t be late.”

“Thanks.” I guess.

If I was late, it would be because he’d insisted on taking his sweet-ass time giving me directions, but I chose not to mention that. Whatever argument—or whatever it was—I’d interrupted clearly wasn’t done. I’d rather just get the hell out of here and leave them to it.

I pushed past him and hustled up the steps, taking them two at a time even though it made my knees twinge and probably flashed way too much leg to the guys still standing below.

It was only when I pulled open the door on the third floor and stepped out into the hallway that I realized my hands were shaking. The schedule still clutched in my grip quivered like a leaf in a breeze, and I folded it up, stuffing it angrily into a side pocket of my bag.

I’d been standing so close to Mason, the boy with the striking green eyes, that I was sure he’d noticed the effect he had on me—and for some reason, that pissed me off.

It felt like I’d lost something.

A game I hadn’t even realized I’d been playing.

Jesus. Get it the fuck together, Talia.





Chapter 4





Thankfully, whatever other weirdness might’ve gone down in the stairwell, Mason hadn’t been bullshitting me about how to get to my history class. I found the skyway to Hammond Hall, and once I was in the right building, it was easy to find the classroom.

I was still late though. Thanks a lot, dickhead.

After peering through the small window in the door, I braced myself and yanked it open, giving the teacher a tight smile that didn’t feel at all authentic. She responded by frowning and adjusting her glasses at me.

“You must be Talia Hildebrand.”

I nodded, wincing at the still-unfamiliar last name. I’d been Talia Parker all my life, up until a few days ago “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Well, you’re late.” She sighed, picking up a heavy textbook and a syllabus from her desk and handing it to me. “Find a seat and don’t make a habit of it.”

“Sorry,” I muttered.

My gaze flicked over the room. There was only one available seat, toward the back of the class.

The teacher—Mrs. Gates, if I remembered right from my class schedule—resumed her lecture as I picked my way through the desks, and most people turned back toward the front to listen. But as I settled into my chair, a prickle of awareness made me look up, and my gaze landed on another familiar face.

The blond boy from the convertible.

He was sprawled in his seat on the opposite side of the room, about as far back as I was, and when everyone else had turned away from me, his gaze had remained. He was fucking built, maybe bigger than Cole, and his broad, muscled frame looked almost comically large crammed behind the tiny desk.

Shit, he looks like some jock wet dream. All golden hair, tan skinned, and light brown eyes, like clover honey. He looked like the perfect stereotype of what all girls craved, and I was surprised to find the look did it for me.

But it did.

It really did.

He was smiling, just like he had been in the car that day—as if he couldn’t not smile, as if life was all just one big, hilarious joke, too funny not to grin at.

I couldn’t exactly relate to that sentiment, but I had to admit, his smile was one of the most gorgeous things I’d ever seen. He had perfect white teeth framed by two dimples in his cheeks, and when he caught me staring back at him, his eyes sparkled with humor and… heat.