Vicious Prince (Royal Elite #5)(36)

Instead of letting her go, I slam her against the wall. She gasps as her back is flattened against the blunt surface. “You don’t need me to pick you up because you have Agnus?”

“Well, yes.” She stares up at me despite the tremor in her voice.

“Well, yes?” I laugh, but there’s no humour behind it. I know she sees it too, because she swallows, her black eyes filling with what resembles fear.

Fear is good. Fear means she knows her fucking place.

“So does that mean I’m ruining your daddy kink, Teal?”

“Screw you, okay? I won’t allow you to talk about Agnus that way.”

“And in what way should I talk about him? Is he the reason behind your fantasies, ma belle? Is that it?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

I grip her by the chin and force her neck into a bent angle so I’m glaring down at her. “Forget about him, starting right fucking now.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll make you regret it.”

Something sparks in her features, a challenge, a ‘game on’ of sorts before she puffs out her chest. “No.”

“Oh, Teal.” I caress her skin, my voice calm and touch gentle though my insides are on fire. “You’re fucked.”





16





Teal





In the past, when I used to walk through RES’s halls and see couples whispering to each other or kissing in corners, I’d breeze straight past them.

I made a decision to be around Elsa as little as possible when she’s with Aiden. He cares about no one when he starts tonguing her as if they’re in private. I even avoided Kim when she started going out with Xander because they gave off this soulmates vibe that I’ve read about in books and makes me roll my eyes so hard.

There’s no such thing as soulmates. It’s all a chemical reaction, a rush of dopamine, a high, and like any high, it’ll eventually wither away.

When I told Elsa and Kim those exact words, they laughed at me. They thought I didn’t understand. Well, they’re the ones who don’t understand, and with time, I’ll be able to say ‘I told you so.’

The downfall of that plan, and of my thoughts in general, is a moment like this one.

Ronan has his arm around my waist as we walk down the hall, and no matter how much I elbow him, he won’t budge.

If anything, he glues himself more tightly to my side, as if we were born attached at the hip. Even Knox and I weren’t.

His closeness is a dent in my plan. The way I keep inhaling his spicy scent and basking in his warmth is dangerously close to that addiction state. You know, the one that comes after the high I already established is beneath me.

Not only that, but since he cornered me at my house, he’s been acting as if nothing happened.

He’s still smiling at girls — and boys — and everyone who crosses our path, teachers and school staff included.

Despite his Death nickname, he’s loved here. Scratch that — he’s not only loved, he’s also worshipped, and like any god, he has a religion and an altar for sacrifices. He has followers — other than the ones on Instagram and Snapchat — and fanatics.

Said fanatics, mainly the female population, keep shooting me glares the more Ronan pulls me to his side, parading me around for the world, or rather the school, to see.

I don’t like attention, and it’s not because I prefer staying under the radar like Elsa, but because attention is kind of stupid. What do you do with attention? You can’t even eat it.

Also, people who thrive on attention like the arsehole who’s digging his fingers into the flesh of my hipbone are shady as fuck. You never know what they’re actually hiding.

I thought he was a gigolo, fake, shallow, but I learnt the hard way that Ronan Astor is more than what meets the eye. He’s the disaster you never see coming. He’s a monster hidden under the popularity and the picturesque smile and family.

His damn family.

The fact that he’s unpredictable has put me on edge since that encounter in his room with his mum on the other side of the door.

I don’t like admitting this, but he rattles me. He’s putting dents upon dents in my plan, and I need to stay the fuck away from him to keep my sanity and protect my clear course of action.

But at the same time, when he slammed me against the wall earlier, warning me to stay away from Agnus, I couldn’t help provoking him.

I’m not the type who provokes people — if anything, I walk straight past any provocation — but with him, all my domino pieces are shuffled and knocked down.

There’s no order or strategy, there’s only…the unknown. It’s like being thrown into a dark maze covered in black smoke.

Truth is, I want to dip my fingers into the other Ronan, the one only I can see, the one who’s not running for a popularity vote.

Why would I want that? I don’t know.

He’s not helping either. He hasn’t uttered a word, not during the ride here and not now.

You’re fucked.

He said it. I heard him. Why isn’t he acting on it?

Do I have to wait long for his retaliation?

Do I have to see a doctor for being excited about his retaliation and how far he’ll take it this time?