Ruthless Crown (Ruthless Royals, #1)

by Amanda Richardson

But I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty. Lord knows I’m used to it by now. My name is Briar Monroe, and these Kings are about to find out just how fucked up this Queen can be.

For all of the ladies who wished Buffy, Feyre, Peyton, Katniss, Aelin, Rachel, Bella, Rory and Sookie never had to choose…

and in the mornings before I’ve had my coffee, I resemble the girl from The Ring.

Me. But with an energy drink.

“Such a nice boy,” my mom says as she sits back down, finishing her meal. For some reason, I doubt that, because my gut is telling me otherwise.

I want to cry and punch something simultaneously.

Me on a daily basis.

Looking over his shoulder, I notice his friends watching me haughtily. Okay, so they truly think of themselves as the rulers here, then? They sure have the arrogance to match it.

“I told him not to do it.” I turn. One of the Kings—the one with the glasses—walks up to me. Samson Hall. “He’s lashing out. Give it a few days.” “You can tell him I won’t tolerate this shit for a few more days.” “He won’t listen.” I clench my teeth. “Why? Just leave me alone.” Samson laughs and shakes his head. “The more you resist, the more interesting you are to him, little lamb.” Hey little lamb, come out and play.

“This is war,” I declare, ignoring the look Jack and Scarlett share.

Oh honey.

“He endured death as a lamb; he devoured it as a lion.”

“Briar,” Samson warns. I turn to face him. “Stop acting like the nice one, Samson. You’re just as bad as them. Maybe even worse, because people want to let their guard down around you.”

People are still terrified of the Kings, but I’m about to pull a checkmate. Hunter, Ash, Ledger, and Samson are about to witness how this Queen attacks—slow, premeditated, and lethal.

I chuckle as I sip my water. “Everyone sleeps with everyone here,” I mumble. “If you ever want to kiss a girl,” Scarlett starts, and we all laugh. “You’ll be the first person I proposition,” I answer.

I bend down and tie my sneakers, looking up just as Briar comes onto the track. I stifle a laugh as she glowers at everyone, her expression sour and displeased. My dark, little rain cloud.

“Be careful, Briar,” Scarlett warns. “I don’t trust them.” I laugh. “They shouldn’t trust me.”

“Welcome to a Greythorn party,” Scarlett yells into my ears. “Where the shoes and watches are designer, the consequences are nonexistent, and the expensive drugs are passed around like candy.”

“Definitely not,” he murmurs, his voice low. “I like fucking, and drinking, and debauchery too much,” he growls.

He may think he won—he may think the war is over, that this Queen will bow down to him and the others like all the other students do. But it’s only just begun because I bow to no one.

“I’m just asking you on a date,” he answers, giving me a wicked smile. “I’m not asking you to marry me.”

Nah but you want to marry her buddy boy

Jesus. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m not religious, but she makes me want to kneel before an altar and confess the downright filthy things that run through my mind when I think of her.

“It’s like you’re a zipper,” he says slowly, running a finger down the middle of my chest, mimicking the movement. “You go your whole life zipped up, and then someone comes along and starts to tug. Inevitably, you’ll be unzipped—and you won’t be prepared for what spills out. That’s how I feel when I’m around you.” I quirk my lips up slightly. “Yeah, I can definitely tell you’re a writer.”

“We each get our share of you,” he muses. “We protect you. Show you that sex can feel good again. Date you, fuck you, worship you…” My body heats.

Evaluate your surroundings. Listen to your gut. Apply common sense.