Vicious Prince (Royal Elite, #5)

by Rina Kent

The beginning is the end. The beginning is when you decide how the finale will be. For some people, the ending is a mystery and the greatest discovery of all.

Some are born for peopling; I was born for anything that doesn’t include that.

I stole his will, his future, and soon enough, his life will follow. I have a secret, I’m a thief. Ronan Astor is my next target. As well as my future husband.

What everyone doesn’t know is, the villain wasn’t always a villain. Once upon a time, they were a victim.

My little crazy beauty.

mon chou

ma belle

He called me beautiful. He thinks I’m beautiful.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I pant. “Not him.” He emerges, licking his lips like a lion about to start his meal. “Me.”

The fact that I can’t get enough of Ronan’s kiss should be alarming — and it is. I just can’t seem to get enough. There’s not enough kissing, not enough touching. There’s simply not enough. I’m starved for more. So much more.

He slides to the edge of the bed and swings up to a standing position, towering over me like a god. A death god. I see it now, his name — the reason he’s nicknamed Death. It’s not because of his playing or any of that. It’s the way he finishes lives without making a sound. He’s discreet but ruthless. Appears loveable but is actually domineering. Death.

If you offer a god a sacrifice, he’ll let you go.

The fact that he plans and will go through with his threats pushes me into a different state of mind. It’s like going through a dark forest, but instead of being afraid of its ghosts, I’m slightly eager to meet them, see them. Touch them.

A sob tears the air, and I realise it’s mine as I nod. I don’t mean to, but I’m nodding. I can’t stop nodding. He’s ruining me, corrupting me, and I’m enjoying every second of it. This is different from any of my fantasies. This is the best fantasy I could’ve had.

He’s setting me free in ways I never thought possible. And I hate him for it. I hate that it’s him, of all people, who’s making me feel this type of strange belonging and absolute abandon. He’s my enemy. He should be my enemy.

He says he owns me, but I’m owning him as much as he owns me.

The part he never shows to anyone else.

I’m a marionette in his hands, a wanton, willing marionette who can’t get enough. His shoulders become rigid and his head tilts slightly back. I can’t help staring up at his masculine beauty and complete control as he stops powering into my mouth. Something salty hits the back of my throat then drips on my chin, mixing with the drool and tears covering my face.

For the first time in my life, I feel used, and yet so utterly pleased. That’s when I take the time to finally admit I’m in so much trouble.

Teal still doesn’t understand that she can’t win against me in the peopling game. I’m way too loved, too approachable, and I don’t give off the deceptive calm façade like Cole. For that reason, people like me and naturally gravitate towards me. It’s not a gift. It’s a commitment I made to myself when I decided I’d never be alone. Not for one second. Not even for a blink.

I haven’t stopped thinking about her. After the day she left my house with her clothes and hair dishevelled and her lips swollen from me fucking her mouth, she became Ron Astor the Second’s fantasy come true.

Every night, I dream of her black eyes as she stared up at me, and I can almost still taste her on my tongue. I can still hear her tiny voice saying I’ll be good. Fuck. I’ve never loved words as much as those, never thought of a girl as much as I do of her. Thankfully, I have the best solution to get rid of this unwanted attention. If I get close enough, I’ll eventually tire of her. The reason she’s occupying my thoughts is that I still know little to nothing about her aside from her being manhandled kink and her bad taste in men. I should be her type.

My head has been going into overdrive since that day, obsessing about the best way to fuck her so thoroughly she’ll forget everyone before me — and after me. Wait. She gets people after me? I don’t like that thought.

But something tells me he’s trying to hide something else. Holding a secret for so long gives me certain perks; the most important of all is that I get to sense when someone is hiding something. Knox, for instance.

I’ve never had those thoughts about a girl before or even viewed sex that way. For me, shagging was another way to keep people close, to never spend nights alone. Even when some fucked-up ideas barged in, I usually shooed them away without a problem. Not with Teal. It’s almost as if she brings them to the forefront of my messed-up brain.

Or rather, learn her better. Even after seeing her in her most intimate moments, she’s still a puzzle. It’s the way she shuts down, immediately building up fortresses and walls.

Knox chews, looking me up and down. “Don’t startle her.” “What?” “Don’t come out of nowhere and surprise her. Don’t touch her when she’s not aware of your presence. She has a bad reaction to that.” A few things click into place — the way she jumps slightly then instantly hides it, the way she was breathing heavily as she sought refuge in that closet. She has some sort of attacks. But she didn’t have them when I pinned her to the wall. Was it because she was already aware of me? I fully face Knox. “What’s the reason?” “Childhood trauma.”

“The stuff with Elsa’s mother?” When Knox and I were getting close and smoking weed in dark corners at parties, he told me about how he and Teal became a part of Ethan Steel’s family and what his wife did to them. I suspect something similar happened to Aiden, but the fucker never talks about it. “Nope. Something deeper.” He tosses the finished apple in the bin. “That’s all for your psychological class of the day.” Something deeper? What’s deeper than being kidnapped by a mentally deranged woman, being...

“Just a piece of advice,” Knox says. “Yeah?” “Don’t fall in love with her.” I laugh, tossing him the apple. “That will never happen.” He catches the fruit above his head. “Good, because it’ll never be reciprocated. T doesn’t know how to feel.” He says it with an edge of sadness, like it’s bothered him for a long time and he doesn’t want others to be caught in the same position.

Then something happens, something that makes me grip the table so tightly I’m surprised my tendons don’t snap. When they’re at the base of the stairs, she stares up at him, and her lips curve into a sensual smile — soft, warm, fucking angelic. I know it’s honest because she can’t fake a smile to save her life. I know she means it because her entire body is angled in Agnus’ direction. My type is at least fifteen years older, experienced, and doesn’t smile the entire time like a gigolo on crack. In short, not you. Her words play at the back of my head in a loop. My gaze snaps to the man she’s spent the last ten years with, the man she’s smiling up at. Her fucking type. It takes everything in me to plaster a smile on my face. I push off the table and stride towards them. Her smile falls and she shoots me a ‘stay away’ look. Stay away? Stay fucking away? I place a hand on the small of her back, and a slight shiver goes through her body as she remains completely still. There. Much better.

“Agnus, right?” I grin at him, showing my teeth. He gives me a curt nod, pretending, like I am, that it’s the first time we’ve met. “If you’ll excuse us, I’m going to drive my fiancée to school now.” “Agnus can do it.” She tries to wriggle away, but I dig my fingers into the tender skin of her waist, making her wince under her breath. “I’m sure he’s a busy man.” I smile. “Right?” “Yes, indeed.” He ruffles her hair, and she blushes so furiously her pale skin turns rosy. “Call me if you need a ride home.” I grind my molars, but I speak through my usual smile. “No need. I’ll do it.” And with that, I drag her with me outside. In just a few seconds, my mood has gone from grey to black. No, not black — red, and fucking murderous. “I told you not to pick me up,” she protests. “And I told you that’s not how it works.” “Let me go, Ronan. I can’t keep up.” I stare back at her as we reach the entrance. I’m clutching her by the wrist, and she stumbles on her own feet in her attempt to catch up to me. 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...

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.

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.

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.

“Wannabe bitch,” whispers Claire, the girl from the other day, as she passes me by. While I usually don’t give them the time of day, I’m on the edge of myself, and I don’t allow bitches to walk all over me. So what if I started this for a plan? Everyone needs to know their damn place. “Hey you.” I stop, forcing Ronan to halt too. The girl and her friend glare back at me then bat their lashes at Ronan. “If you have something to say, why don’t you speak out loud for everyone to hear?” My voice is calm, neutral even. I realise a small crowd has started to gather, but I couldn’t care less. This isn’t about them; it’s about me. My self-worth. My dignity. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Claire feigns innocence, still giving Ronan that ‘fuck me’ look.

Before he gets a chance to speak, I slide myself out of his hold and stride towards Claire until I’m nose to nose with her. “Do you know why?” To her credit, she keeps her posture straight, pretending I don’t scare her. After all, the female population in this school agree with her, not me. “I happen to be his fiancée. Ever heard that term?” I stare down my nose at her. “Google it, and then we can maybe talk about it.” Claire’s face creases with a scowl, but her friend points a finger at me. “You’re only his fiancée because he’s forced to. Arranged marriage. Google it.” “I did, and that’s how I managed to officially own him while all of you beg for scraps.” I stare at her then at every girl watching me with either mouths agape or malice in their eyes — or both. “If any of you threaten me, you won’t like how I’ll react. This is my first and final warning.”

And then, I grab Ronan and drag him away from the scene. I expect to find him grinning at the others, offering them his apologetic smiles or whatever he does to seem like an innocent gigolo, but his gaze is entirely on me. Just me. Those rich brown eyes with a slightly colourful hue, those brows arching a little. For the first time ever, he’s not smiling or smirking or grinning on the school grounds. If anything, he appears…a bit pissed off?

Is it so wrong that my entire body comes to life whenever he looks at me that way? Whenever he sheds his mask and shows me his true, raw self? Only to me. Not anyone else but me.

The best-laid plans start with a scheme. It can be something as simple as planting a seed for trouble.

Her lips curve in a smirk, and I smirk back. I warned Teal. I told her she’s fucked, but she didn’t listen. If words didn’t put her in her place, action will.

I am the slave of what I have spoken, but the master of what I conceal.

“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 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.

here’s nothing I hate more than running. And it’s not only because of the physical activity of it, the shortness of breath, or the screaming of the muscles demanding I end the torture. It’s the memories that come with running. Knox and I ran as hard as our small feet could carry us when we decided Mum’s roof wasn’t the one we’d stay under. We ran and ran in the dirty streets. We ran after we stole food from the market. We ran after we heard a policeman’s whistle, even if we hadn’t done anything. In our small minds, we believed the police would find us for the stolen food and take us back to Mum. It would’ve happened. We could’ve been forced to go back. We didn’t because we ran.

I’m at the Meet Up and I kicked everyone out to smoke weed and think about you in peace. I miss you and I’m going to fuck you when I find you, my crazy belle. Oh, and my calls have started with the PI. I’m going to convince Ethan to file a missing person report. You’re going down. I fucking miss you, though.

I’ve never been this aroused in my life. It’s like he touches me and I’m a goner. I’m shattered. I’m empowered.

“Now fall again with me.” I do. I just do.

“Mine. Only fucking mine,” he growls before he claims my lips in an animalistic kiss.

mon fréro