Vicious Prince (Royal Elite #5)(43)

“Do you honestly think I’m scared of you? If you stab, I’ll stab right back.”

She attacks then. Her hand shoots up and she pulls me by the hair, nearly ripping it from its root.

I do the same.

We’re clutching each other by the hair, but instead of feeling the pain, all we offer each other are glares.

“We had an arrangement,” she manages to mutter.

“And you ruined it.”

“Oh, I did? Are you hearing yourself?”

“I told you at the club I’d stay out of your way as long as you stayed out of mine, and what did you do? You were running your claws all over my fiancé. My —”

I cut myself off before I say more, before I admit that seeing her with him has put me entirely off balance, that I might’ve even felt small in comparison, that maybe she fits him more than I’ll ever do. Silver is the daughter of Sebastian Queens, the most probable future prime minister. Her mother is a member of parliament who’s a smart, beautiful and eloquent. Even her stepmother, Cole’s mother, is a bestselling, genius author who’s known for her intelligent storytelling. Silver is the epitome of everything an earl’s son should be with. Her outfits are always pristine, she smells of Chanel and is a social media goddess with picturesque family and life. She even plays the fucking piano.

I never feel small. I don’t allow myself to.

What on earth is Ronan Astor doing to me?

“You were there first.” She grunts. “I’m not a nice person, Teal. Don’t test me.”

“I’m not a nice person either.”

We glare at each other for long seconds, and then we release each other at the same time.

“Stay away, and I will,” she warns, putting her hair back in place with utter elegance that resembles Charlotte’s. While Ronan’s mother is soft, Silver is all rugged edges and plays the bitch role all too well.

Elsa and Kim already categorise her as such. In fact, the entire school considers her queen bee. After seeing her at the club, it’s hard for me to look at her from that perspective.

“I thought you didn’t like him.” I study my black nails. “It seemed that way at the club.”

Her cheeks redden. “Shut up.”

“I’m only saying it as I see it, Silver.”

“Oh, you want me to say it as I see it, too?” She straightens, and since she’s taller, she uses every inch to look down at me. “You’re afraid of Ronan, Teal.”

“Me, afraid?” I scoff.

“Yes. You know he can barge through the whole goth and satanic exterior and see the real girl inside, and you don’t want that, so you picked up the defence and decided to protect your walls. But you know what? You can’t protect your walls and claim him at the same time. One of these days, you’ll have to choose.” She flips her hair. “But what do I know, right?”

I continue staring at Silver’s back as she heads to her car.

Her words swirl in my mind, but their impact is a lot worse than she aimed for. She wanted to make me feel guilty so I’d go to Ronan and leave her plan alone, but a different realisation hits me.

I realise I am feeling after my vow not to ever feel again.

And I realise I need to get rid of these feelings.

Only one way to go about this.





19





Ronan





That night, I mope around at the Meet Up.

Okay, maybe mope around is the wrong word. I’m sulking like a whore without clients.

And who gets to witness my misery? The three other fuckers I don’t want near me right now.

Xander just returned from rehab and is grinning like a fucking idiot with those dimples someone should get rid of to give the world some peace. What’s so special about them anyway? They’re like holes in his cheeks. I’ve always thought they’re overrated with the ladies.

Even Kimmy loves them, secretly or openly or whatever you want to call it, but we all agree that Kimmy and Elsa have terrible taste in men. And by we all, I mean Lars and me when I slur stories to him whenever I’m stoned.

Like now.

This shit is good.

I take a drag of the joint and close my eyes, letting it submerge me into its hold. I’m not a junkie. Unlike common belief, I don’t smoke weed every day. I only do it when I don’t want to be in my head or when I want to throttle someone and I know I can’t.

Lars PMSes and writes about me in his little black book when I smoke in my room, especially now that his favourite earl is in the house. Lars is a fucking traitor. I’m removing him from my list of people. I’m also removing Cole and Aiden.

These two fuckers are lucky I’m in no fighting mood or I would’ve jammed both their faces against each other.

Or not.

Violence might cross my mind once and again, but I don’t act on it — or rather I have enough self-control to never act on it. That whole package comes together: an earl’s heir, a noble title, expectations, and a good boy tag.

Maybe if I hadn’t been fucked up at a young age, I would’ve grown into that image. Maybe I wouldn’t be smoking my joint and imagining her disappointed, angry obsidian eyes staring up at me, as if I let her down and scared her at the same fucking time.

I glare at Cole, who’s sitting beside Aiden, leaning his head against his fist and reading from that same book he had when they were together earlier.