Vicious Prince (Royal Elite, #5)

by Rina Kent

Belle, it says ‘Talk French to Me’. If it’s not about me, I don’t know what is.” He approaches me, still smiling, but this time, it’s not forced or camouflaging pain.

I’m glad you’re here, my crazy but beautiful belle

I don’t allow myself to think about my next action. I rise up on my tiptoes and seal my lips to his. I kiss him as deeply as he’s touching me. Fuck people. He’s the only one who’s visible in the crowd. Even if things between us started for the wrong reasons.

The bunny outfit goes to shreds around my body, and for a second too long, I’m so stunned I can’t react. I can’t react when the bunny ears break in two. I can’t react when the cloth is ripped, revealing my breasts and my stomach and pooling around my waist. The only thing I can look at is Ronan’s face, the way it’s blackening and nearly spiralling out of control. It’s too similar to my phases. It’s like one of those times where everything feels like too much — the world, the people, even the fucking air. It’s too strong, too potent, and you can’t escape it no matter how much you try. I run, but it follows. I sleep, but it perches over me like a constant weight. People say it’s just a phase and that it’ll eventually go away. It doesn’t. You breathe it in the air, drink it with water, and taste it with food. It doesn’t only become a part of you — it is you. If you somehow managed to remove it, you wouldn’t recognise yourself anymore. It’s not a fucking phase. It’s a state of being. And sometimes, it acts out. Sometimes, you can’t control it even with carefully developed coping mechanisms. I never let anyone see me when it’s about to come out. I run and hide. I purge. The moment I feel it coming close, I just leave. The only people who’ve seen me at my lowest are Knox and Ronan. And now, I’m seeing him at his lowest, too. The fact that I could be the cause of this creates a black hole in my chest. What have I done?

“Too bad, because you’re going to listen, Teal. You’re going to listen to the story of a boy who hates himself so much he needs other people in order to exist.”

Mon ange.”

Lars and I have grown close over time. He wouldn’t admit it, but he always has a dark chocolate bar ready for me then he whines about how I keep stealing them. “You look beautiful.” He lifts his chin. “And stop eating the chocolate no one offers you.”