Fate of a Royal (Lords of Rathe, #1)(40)

Trevor slaps the plastic cup from my hands and it hits the ground with a splat, sending a spray of shit up my legs.

I freeze, blinking at him, but he shoulders past, budging my body. I stumble slightly as he leaves, and when my gaze follows his retreating form, a shadow falls over me.

My skin prickles, a shiver starting at the base of my neck and running down the length of my spine. I quickly spin, eyes flying all around, but no one is there.

My cheeks heat, but I’m not sure why, so I force my eyes to close and pull in a lung full of air.

Feeling the slightest bit more settled, I shake my head and face forward.

I’m losing my fucking mind, I swear to god.

I look at my phone seeing it’s too late to go back for another latte, so I kick the fucking cup and suck it up.

Every stupid step sucks more than the last.

I’m excited to spend my day surrounded by crystals and all the calming juju the shop brings me, but facing today without coffee might just make me cry like a bitch.

I’m fucking exhausted.

Hungover.

Confused as shit with the images floating around in my head and admittedly, a bit concerned with my growing boredom.

Sighing, I push through the door into the crystal shop and curve around the back counter to sign in for my shift.

Melinda breezes by in a flash of clinking bracelets and smiles at me, nodding her chin to the space behind me as she disappears around the corner again. “The moon is in slumber, sweet London. Time to shine,” she singsongs her usual randomness before disappearing around another corner, adding, “and some agate beneath your coffee, my dear.”

My brows pull as I shove my bag into the small drawer, and when I spin, my body jolts.

Sitting there on the top of the old wood…is an iced latte with my name on it.





Fourteen





Knight




My fist lands on Creed’s cheek with a crack, and I watch as his skin splits open and blood sprays on me.

“I don’t know,” I say, swiping the sweat from my face. I don’t like to train with magic or use it as a way to release energy. The energy I need to dump is the kind that involves human fucking feelings. Sometimes, I just need to punch shit. That’s probably the main reason I joined the hockey team here at Rathe U last year.

Back home, we play with magic, all four of us have since we were old enough to lace up our own skates. Our kind of hockey—the right kind—is a fucking blood bath. Perfection.

Here, I’m lucky if I clock someone hard enough to send them after me for a quick couple punches of fun. But practices? Coach knows we need that relief and lets us beat the fuck out of each other when necessary.

And for me, that shit’s always necessary.

Creed blocks my neck hook with a simple step, spinning around to put me in a sleeper hold, only I dip under his arm and shove him away, bouncing on my toes. “You know what the fuck I’m talking about. Attack aside—”

“—what do you mean, attack aside?” I raise a brow, jabbing him in the chin. It’s light, meant as a warning.

“Motherfucker, you’re the one that dipped out.”

I stop bouncing, swiping the sweat from my hands down my basketball shorts. “Yeah.”

“What’s up with you?” he asks carefully. “I need to get you a pixie to feed off of or something?”

Feed on. My brows pinch, my nerve endings bursting in my chest at the memory of London’s blood on my tongue, but it doesn’t feel like a memory. I can literally taste her now, as if her blood is fresh, dripping and dancing across my tongue, awakening taste buds that never existed.

Human blood is bitter. It’s basic and a means to an end, an artless misfortune that helps when it has to or to dip into when you’re bored.

London’s blood is not like that.

It’s like a mature wine that sat barreled in a dark cellar for decades, growing sweeter with time. It’s thick and savory, like melted maple and a bit of chestnut. It’s sweet and spicy… and mine.

Heat explodes inside me the moment I think that last word, a deep growl trapped at the back of my throat, begging to be freed.

The monster inside me is waking. I can feel him simmering beneath the surface, just … waiting.

“Your eyes are glowing.”

I snap my lids closed, and when they open again, I focus on Creed. I didn’t even realize my gift came to the surface, but then I feel his pressing against mine, and my lip curls. “Stay out of my head.”

He eyes me for a long moment, still attempting to get a read on me, but I keep him out.

“Mom and Dad asked if anything has changed.” His prying eyes pierce mine. “Has it?”

I don’t know…has it?

I still don’t want to be here, but I had resigned myself to the fact that I have no choice pretty quickly into my first semester last year, so why did the start of this one feel so fucking taxing?

I’m in a constant state of fucked up, angry, then normal and irritated every second of the fucking day. Mix those with a heavy sense of lacking something you can’t put a name to, and yeah. It’s no wonder the only people willing to spar with me now are my brothers and Silver. I’ve been beating everyone’s face in, to the point the Healers have had to cart them out of the training room for nearly two months now.