Vicious Prince (Royal Elite #5)(5)

Only it’s not.

I need a lot of focus to form faces, a familiarity of sorts, but I still don’t have that with RES’s students. The one I concentrate on barely has eyes; they’re washed out, and the person quickly strides past me, shattering any focus I had.

I shake my head and rekindle the connection with my phone.

Maybe one day after the war finishes, I’ll stand in a public place and recognise every face and every person. I’ll be normal.

Though, what’s normal? I never lived it, never experienced it, so how come I want it so much?

I’m a human, after all, like my therapist says. I can deny it all I want, but I keep snapping back to what’s considered normal even without my permission.

Stupid anatomy.

“A word, ma belle,” a low voice whispers in my ear from behind.

I startle and my hands shake, nearly dropping the phone on the ground.

Something jerks in my chest, as if invisible hands are rummaging through my organs.

It takes me a second too long to regain control over my breathing.

Refusing to show Ronan a reaction, I continue walking as if he didn’t just set off my second trigger for the day. First Knox, and now him.

I’m usually more aware of my surroundings for this exact reason, but I spent all night searching for and watching videos of my opponent, making sure I know him better than he knows himself.

I guess a lack of sleep can cause a deficiency in attention.

“Did you hear me?” He speaks with that smile plastered on his face as he falls in step beside me.

“Yes, and my silence was the answer, just like how I left to stop being in your immediate vicinity.”

“You’re getting it all wrong, but I’m generous so I’ll fix your misconception. Silence is a sign of affirmation.”

“For me, it’s a sign of denial.” I stride faster than I usually walk, but it’s useless. He’s way taller than me and his legs eat up the distance, keeping pace with me without any extra effort.

“That’s lovely.” He smiles, but I don’t think he believes what he said — the part where he thinks this is lovely, I mean.

No, it can’t be.

He’s as readable as it gets. Even with my weird relationship with feelings, I can figure him out. I watched him for weeks on end before I took this step. He can’t possibly be hiding anything up his sleeve.

“Do you mind?” I stop, motioning at him to go ahead. Ronan and I often throw jabs at each other. What? I’m allergic to his over-positivity, and I can’t stay quiet about it. He always retaliates and we soon drop it.

But that’s only when someone else is around.

I never spend alone time with Ronan, and it’s for a reason. He’s always surrounded by people; it feels suffocating just watching from afar.

“I do, actually.” He smiles again, adding a wink, but it’s not at me — it’s at a girl passing us by. “Party at my place, Nicky!”

She nods several times like an overeager kid on Christmas morning then blushes when he winks at her again.

I sidestep him and continue on my way. After all, I don’t want to hinder his man-whorish ways.

I make a beeline to the library to return the book A Military History and Atlas of the Napoleonic Wars. I read the whole thing last night, so I might as well take another one.

I’m in front of a shelf when a strong hand grabs me by the arm from behind.

Third and final trigger.

My heart nearly stops beating as I shriek. The sound is so loud my ears pop.

Only no sound comes out.

A hand wraps tightly around my mouth, killing any protest I could form.

I stare up at Ronan’s symmetrical eyes. There is no laughter in there, no winks or anything familiar. It’s a bit blank, a bit too…empty.

It’s almost as if I’m staring at a different person.

The change disappears in a second as a grin breaks out on his face, and just like that, the shallow version returns.

Was it even there? Maybe the change was a play of my imagination because of the trigger I just experienced.

My ears still ring from the effect of it, so it can’t be far off.

Still, my chest rises and falls so heavily it’s like a war has already started in my heart and is now about to take me over.

Ronan lowers his hand as if he didn’t just muffle my scream and trigger my damn episode.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I snap.

“Shh.” He places his forefinger in front of his mouth, motioning at Mrs Abbot, the librarian. “We’re at the library.”

“And what are you doing here?” I whisper.

“Told you.” He gives me back my personal space as if he didn’t confiscate it a second ago. “I want a word with you.”

“And I told you no.” I turn on my heels, breathing heavily and trying to subdue the shadow on my shoulder, trying to keep it from pouncing at me.

I need to get the fuck out of here and take a pill to calm down. Otherwise, I’ll be jittery all damn day.

My episodes have that effect on me.

An arm shoots out in front of my face, and I push back, jolting as it clutches a shelf, blocking my exit.

Damn him.

I can already feel the usual shortness of breath and trembling of my toes. If he keeps doing this, I’ll really have no way to stop whatever’s brewing in the distance.