Fate of a Royal (Lords of Rathe, #1)(18)

Squeezing my eyes closed, I rub them with the palm of my hand when the wind’s gentle touch caresses me from around the nape of my neck. Goosebumps break out over my flesh when the sharpness of ice slides down the apex of my spine in the next breath. I shiver loudly but pause when a sense of wonder falls over me. It’s…different. Puzzling. Almost as if it’s right there. A heavy sense of hate and need twisting together into a suffocating tornado, but while I feel it, I also…don’t. Like it’s outside of me. Without touch.

Like it’s not mine…

The thought is troubling, especially since I’ve always been keenly in tune with the emotions of others around me. Everyone has always called me an empath, and I believe it. I know when Ben is upset, sad, happy. It’s never that I can see it and read him; it’s that I feel it, but this? This is stronger, more, in every sense of the word.

With furrowed brows and trembling fingers, I grip the edges of Ben’s shirt, pulling it up my body to wipe the sweat from my brow, and instantly, I’m slammed with a sense of soul-crushing possessiveness, so strong it makes me gasp. The shirt falls from my fingertips and the hairs at the base of my neck stand when I feel the weight of eyes on me.

I jump from my bed, a yelp leaving my mouth slightly as I reach for my bedside lamp, but I knock my phone off instead. Finally, I clamber for it enough to find the switch and light fills my room, blinding me in the process.

An empty spot in my room stares back at me, and for the first time ever, I think maybe I’m going crazy.





Eight





Knight



There have been three times in my life that I’ve known I don’t want to be here. At Rathe U. The first time was when I was told I’d have to come. Naturally rebellious, I hated anyone telling me what to do. My beast hated it too…

The second time was when I was late to my first day. Royals aside, I didn’t want any extra attention on me, and I got it that day.

The third time? Is now. Right the fuck now because I am one hundred percent certain that the seconds here feel like hours, and the hours like days, and the days like weeks, and well, catch my drift. Everything drags on.

My heavy boots slap across the long marble pathway. The front of the school is where the main entrance building and our sleeping quarters are, with the rest of the buildings separated and scattered around into sections. The monsters all stay in one area, as well as the vampires, the Lycan, the Ordinaries, and the Power Banks. All Power Banks, who fall into the Ordinary category, have no true power worthwhile yet. They’re above the catacombs, where the bloodthirsty monsters all reside. Since the blood suckers can’t feed off them, they’re safest there.

The rest of us… on the other hand…

I drop down onto a chair, watching as groups of Gifted walk through. Same shit, different fucking day. Before Sin starts going off about whatever bullshit he’s got on his mind, all of our phones vibrate, and we reach for them to see who it’s from.

Father: Your mother and I will be in town at witching hour tomorrow. Make sure all of you are present.

I glare at my phone. There it is. Legend had warned us at the party they were coming, but tomorrow? That’s earlier than even he expected, if the look of concern on his face tells me anything. Our parents haven’t made a random drop-by at the school since—well, I can’t remember the last time.

Actually, I can.

“What the fuck are we missin’?” Legend takes a bite of his apple. We all know what he wishes it was .

“Yeah, well, maybe something is happening that we don’t know about yet and they’re coming to tell us.”

“Something they couldn’t share over the phone?” Creed ponders, but his eyes remain on mine.

Since yesterday at the diner, he’s been all over my shit like a fucking Bengal at an airport. Creed is naturally standoffish and moody, so it’s not like it’s uncommon for him to be this way. I just wish he’d finally fucking mate and put us all out of our misery.

“Obviously not.” The fact that our parents are going out of their way to rise from the comfort of hell rings alarm bells. They don’t shift weight for anything.

Creed still hasn’t taken his eyes off mine, and I slide the can of O neg. across the table, dragging my finger over my upper lip. The last time Creed and I went head-to-head, it was a bloodbath. Literally. The fact that Creed is the oldest brother doesn’t mean shit here. If you’re weak, you get weeded. Creed isn’t weak. I’m just hoping he mates first so he can take the fucking throne he’s so thirsty for. Aside from the obvious, it makes sense he takes it. He’s smarter. Levelheaded and makes decisions that are right, but right now, he’s balancing on my last nerve. I can’t decide whether I’m pissed because he’s obviously picking through my emotions like a fucking all-you-can-eat buffet, or because that last fight I just mentioned only happened a couple weeks ago.

I don’t want the crown and I sure as fuck don’t want a mate. I’m too impulsive for that too… obsessive. I’d likely kill her in a fit of jealous rage, and then my soul would eat me from the inside out. And nobody wants a dead royal.

Our family wouldn’t survive that a second time.

“Stop.”

My head pops up to find Creed glaring at me from across the table and I shrug my shoulders, sitting back.