Page 12 of The Kings
Like lightning, my hand grips his finger, and I yank it out of my hair before I bend it backwards, snapping it.
He yelps like a stuck pig, and I give him that sinister smile back.
“Touch me again without my consent, and I will gut you,” I say pleasantly, ignoring the sting on my scalp. Pretty sure I managed to pull out a clump of my own hair while I was proving a point—tough shit.
His eyes flash dangerously as I bend his finger back even more as he slams his lips shut and glowers at me with a ferocity that would make a lesser woman quake in her designer heels.
Not me, though, and now he knows it.
“You’ve made a fucking enemy,” he snarls when I let him go, and he tries not to nurse his poor, little boo-boo.
“So have you, asshole, and to be quite frank, you should be way more scared of me than I am of you.”
“Fuck you, cunt,” he growls as a man steps up beside me with a bright smile that reads anything but happy-clappy.
“Everything okay here?” James asks.
“Wonderful. David and I were just getting to know each other’s strengths, weren’t we?”
In pure low-class fashion, which shows him for who he is, he spits at my feet. He’s lucky it didn’t hit my shoes. He’s even luckier he didn’t aim for my face. My hand itches to reach for my knife, but it’s overkill. He’s strolling away with his followers, who have probably lost more than a bit of respect for him now.
“You don’t waste time making friends, do you?” James murmurs, tilting his head at me like an inquisitive puppy as he sizes me up.
“Friends are hard to come by. Enemies, on the other hand, are a dime a dozen. Bring it.”
He chuckles darkly. “Couldn’t agree more. So, which I am, Blood Countess?”
Taken aback for a microsecond at the nickname, I laugh, a thrill shooting over my skin. “I’ll take that and wear it with honour. But as for your question, I guess we’ll find out.”
He raises an eyebrow, giving brooding a whole new level to live up to. “Smart,” he murmurs and moves in a bit closer, as close as he can get, without touching me.
I’m forced to tilt my head back to gaze into his remarkable eyes, which I knew would change colour.
But whatever he was planning on doing or saying next is lost to the wind as the side door opens, spilling out a crowd of drunk students, some of them already half-naked and streaking across the quad.
7
ELIZA
Stepping backfrom James as Raphael, Tarquin and Oliver join us, the cool evening air does nothing to chill the heat that’s building inside me.
“You ready to go already?” Oliver asks me.
“Yeah, I’m not a big fan of student parties.”
“Can’t say I blame you,” Tarquin murmurs. “These guys can get a bit too asshole-y when pissed up.”
“Only when pissed up?” I giggle, gazing into his clear blue eyes, and then stop myself with a blink.
What am I doing?
Not that Tarquin seems to have a problem with my little flirt. He gives me a sexy half smile that seems to intrigue Raphael as he glares at his twin before turning that scowl on me.
“Let’s go,” he mutters and stalks off under a bit of a cloud.
Falling into step with Tarquin and James flanking me with Oliver slightly in front, my fingers itch with the urge to trace those tattoos on Raphael’s and Tarquin’s arms.
We’re almost home, just a few steps away, thankfully. I won’t touch Raphael, especially not after he’s either playing dumbabout our night together or having just forgotten completely. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
