Page 60 of The Kings
I agree. They all think they’ve got a shot with her—like she’s some prize to be won.
“Oliver?” Eliza’s soft call brings my attention back to her jade eyes. “Dance with me?”
“Thought you’d never ask.” I take her hand, and we move to the rhythm of a song that’s slow and gentle and nothing like the woman in my arms. Her body fits against mine like it’s made to be close to me. I feel that slow burn connection spark, setting fire to whatever space is left between us.
For a moment, it’s just Eliza and me and the undeniable pull simmering beneath the surface. But then reality crashes back in, and I remember this isn’t just about us. It’s about more than us. It’s the game that’s bigger than any one player.
“Oliver,” James leans in as I lead Eliza off the dance floor, a frown etching his features. He nods subtly towards a corner where two professors are whispering to each other. Their eyes darting around the room, landing on Eliza for a fraction too long.
“Eliza, darling,” coos a voice dripping with honeyed venom. Virginia, head of the student council, slinks forward, her eyes scanning the Kings surrounding Eliza. “Congratulations on your win. You must feel so powerful.”
“I am powerful,” Eliza responds, giving Virginia a guileless stare that makes me stifle my chuckle.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t go to your head,” Virginia purrs before flitting away, her entourage giggling at some unspoken joke.
Gazing back at the professors, they’re gone.
Was Virginia a distraction?
Maybe, but why?
The enemy may be unseen, but their presence is like a chill across my skin. Whoever they are, they’re watching, waiting. But so are we, and we don’t scare easily, and if this insider, whoeverthat happens to be, seeing as there is no one on the inside except for us, is planning to make a move, we’ll be ready.
After a couple of hours have passed, Eliza blows out a breath. “This is boring as fuck. Nothing is happening, no one is making a move, and no fucker is talking. Let’s go home.”
“You have to wonder why they aren’t talking or moving,” I murmur, taking her hand and enjoying the smile she rewards me with.
“Because the assholes know they can’t get through us,” Raph growls.
“Just means they have to go around us,” Tarquin adds, a bit pissed off.
“They can try, but they will fail,” I murmur.
“And even if they don’t, all they’ll find is me with my ghost-pepper attitude.”
James snorts at Eliza’s sass. “You do know you’re going to have to coat Flick’s blade in ghost pepper now and then use it on someone. It just has to happen.”
“Don’t give her ideas,” I chuckle.
“Spoilsport,” she murmurs, her eyes gleaming. “It’s a damn fine idea, James. Damn fine indeed.”
Walking across campus, I keep my eye out for anything amiss, but again, there is nothing. The only thing that looked remotely suspicious was the two professors, but at least it’s something.
29
TARQUIN
When I strideonto the university campus, yesterday’s event lingers like a bad hangover; someone out there is pulling strings, trying to puppeteer our lives into ruin, and it looks like rumours are flying and we are not the only ones feeling the hit.
We’re a fortress of five, moving as one unit across the grounds where students cluster in uneasy knots, the tension almost physical.
“Did you hear about Tess? She was sent a seriously creepy doll soaked in blood,” a girl mutters to her friend as we walk past.
“I know. It freaked me out. Landon was sent a text; it was threatening and scary as fuck.”
“Shit’s about to get real,” Oliver murmurs, nodding toward the eastern lawn. Two rival families square off, tempers flaring hotter than midsummer asphalt.
“Let’s move,” I growl, cracking my knuckles as we approach. Raphael exudes lethal calm beside me, his eyes scanning for hidden threats while James, silent as a shadow, flanks us.
