Page 16 of The Queen
“Fuck you!”
Raphael’s towering form steps in front of me, pissing me right off, especially when the students shrink back an inch, but their eyes are still fierce.
“Enough,” Raphael says, his voice low and dangerous. He moves like lightning, the sound of his fist connecting with the student’s jaw a sharp crack that echoes in my ears. The crowd gasps, some backpedalling away from the sudden violence.
“Raph!” I murmur, loving violence as much as the next mafia Queen, but this escalated way too quickly, even for me. But he’s already drawing a blade from his jacket, the metal gleaming cold and bright under the sun. It’s a clear message—don’t mess with what’s his.
“Anyone else want to question my girl?” Raphael’s voice is as hard as steel, daring the onlookers to make a move. No one dares to speak. No one even breathes too loudly, the fear of him rolling off in waves.
“Back up,” he orders, and they listen, their bravado melting away like ice on hot pavement. With every step he takes toward them, they take two back until there’s enough space for me to breathe without smelling their fear.
“Raphael, put it away,” I say. “You’ve made your point.”
His gaze flickers to me, then back to the retreating students, and after a tense moment, he slides the blade back into hiding. But he doesn’t relax, not really. His body stays coiled and ready, a panther among sheep.
He turns fully to face me then, and I see the raw edge of protectiveness.
We walk away from the confrontation, his hand finding mine, strong and steady—just like the heart of the man who holds it.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” My voice is steady, even if my heart isn’t. I take in a deep breath, trying to calm the adrenaline that hasn’t quite faded.
We stop under the shadow of an old oak tree that survived the attack. Here, away from prying eyes and far enough from the whispers, it feels like we can finally exhale.
“You didn’t have to step in like that.”
“Didn’t I?” He cocks an eyebrow, half-amused, but there’s a seriousness in his gaze that tells me he means every word. “You think I’d stand by and watch them come at you? Not a chance.” His hand reaches out, and our fingers intertwine, a silent acknowledgement of the bond formed between us, forged in danger and sealed with trust.
“Eliza,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl that vibrates through my body. The sound is as commanding as it is seductive, demanding my attention in every conceivable way. He steps closer, and the gap between us disappears. His hands find my waist, his touch branding me through the fabric of my tee. “You are mine to protect whether you need it or not. We let you do things your way at the beginning. Now? Things have changed.”
“Changed.”
I don’t need to ask him why. He has fallen in love with me. He and Tarquin have said the words. Words I can’t bring myselfto utter back yet. I feel it. Or I think I do, but if I say it and I lose them, there will be no coming back from that. Not again.
His fingers trail up my spine, tracing the outline of the skull and rose tattoo beneath my top.
“Tell me what you need, and I’ll deliver.”
“Right now, just this,” I confess, leaning into him, craving the heat of his skin against mine. The danger we face amplifies our connection, making each touch feel like both defiance and destiny.
“Hey,” I murmur when I see James and Tarquin approaching.
Oliver appears from behind, his face unreadable as I turn to smile at him.
“Now we are all here; we need a meeting after class. There’s something we need to talk about.” The words hang heavy, ripe with the secrets I’ve uncovered.
They all agree, thankfully not asking what it is about. I don’t even know where to start.
“Time for class,” James says, stepping forward. There’s a reluctance in Raphael’s release, a slow uncoiling of his arm from around me that speaks louder than any declaration of possessiveness.
“Take care of her,” Raphael tells James, handing over the invisible baton of my safety.
“Always,” James replies, and there’s steel in that one word.
As we set off toward class, I feel James’ presence like a shroud of seduction waiting to fall and smother me. Our glances keep tangling, heavy with unspoken things. Each look is a thread pulling tighter, weaving a bond that’s becoming harder to ignore, harder to resist.
With every step we take, every shared look, something builds—a craving, a desire that’s getting harder to push down.
