Fate of a Royal (Lords of Rathe, #1)(44)

My little late-night waiting party went on for years, until ever so slowly the feeling of anxiousness dropped into my stomach, creating a hollow void of despair. Of…loss. It made no sense. Eventually, I learned to block it out until one day, I no longer had to stop trying to.

It wasn’t gone, somehow I knew that, but it was as if a deeper part of me knew what to do and protected me from the pain I didn’t understand because it made no sense.

My uncle was a wholesome man. My best friend was the shit and his grandma treated me like I was one of her own. After I lost my parents, I had a whole support system around me. I didn’t know another way.

With a heavy sigh, I climb from bed, making my way to the bathroom. I splash a little cold water onto my face, staring at my ratted hair in the mirror.

“Ugh.” Brush in hand, I head back into my room, throw on a pair of sweats, and reach for the shirt I tossed off mid-sleep last night, but squeak when my fingers touch something sticky. “Damn.”

I kick it to the side, and my eyes fall to the T-shirt folded neatly on the dresser—the black shirt I woke up in the other night. I tug it over my head, brush my mane of Daenerys, and tiptoe into the kitchen, careful not to wake Ben as I quickly pop in a pod to make a cup of coffee.

I snag a blanket off the back of the couch and throw it over my shoulders before moving back to dress up my drink. Only once the steaming beverage is drowning in cinnamon syrup do I leave the room and head down to the first floor, then out the dorm doors.

The campus is a dead zone, as I suspected, so I watch my surroundings as I make my way toward the picnic tables about twenty feet away.

I climb on top of the one nearest my building, ignoring how my ass is instantly wet from the moisture built up on the chipping paint, and wrap the blanket tighter around me.

I look up at the sky and my mood sours a little more.

There’s just something about the darkness fading that rubs me wrong. Everything is better at night.

“I should be surprised to find you here, but I’m not.”

I jolt, my legs flying from where they’re bent as hot coffee sloshes over the edge. My head snaps over my shoulder, seeking the voice out in the shadows of the trees.

My eyes crash with a pair of blue ones and I follow his every step as he circles me like prey, one foot in front of the other, hands buried deep in his pockets.

“Creed.”

“Why are you here?” he wonders.

My head tugs back. “I live here. Why are you here?”

“I’m looking for my brother. He didn’t come home.” He eyes me suspiciously, closing the distance.

So they are brothers!

Wait. “You think he was with me?”

“I said I was looking for my brother, did I not?”

My brows jump. “Oh, you want to be a dick. Cool. You can fuck off.”

“And you can watch your back.”

“And you can back the fuck up before you get a face full of, what I’m sure, is a lukewarm coffee now.”

His lip curls into a slow smirk and I scowl, slowly bringing my mug to my lips. Ass. Creed is hot in the same way the others are, but I don’t know. Something about him doesn’t sit right with me. I need to figure it out.

He watches me take a few small sips, as I lower the mug to the tabletop. His deep blue eyes lift to mine as he takes another step toward me. I don’t dare look away. This guy, he’s like a mountain lion, tracking my every move with a territorial gleam in his glare.

“What is it about you that has him so twisted, hmm?” Slowly, he dips his head, a heated gaze rolling over me. “I can see the appeal, sure. Tight little curves, perfect fat tits, and those lips…” His eyes snap up to mine and then there he is. Right up on me.

My bent knees press against his chest as he leans over the bench my feet are perched on. He plants his palms at my sides, and I swallow past the thick swell in my throat. His eyes flash to the spot, his tongue rolling over his lower lip.

Jesus, these boys are walking wonder sticks, working some voodoo shit on me that has me prickling all over like a needy bitch.

Creed’s eyes roll over my face, pausing for a long moment on my forehead, small creases forming along his own. “What am I missing, Little London?” he purrs. “What are you hiding up there?”

Suddenly, his head pops up, attention snapping behind me, so I turn to see, but no one is there, and when I glance back, Creed isn’t either.





Sixteen





Knight



“You fucking following me now?!” I shove Creed in the chest the minute we step through the portal.

He comes right back, bumping his against mine. “Didn’t have to follow you, and I still knew exactly where you were.”

“Fuck, do you care who I’m fucking, Creed? If you want in on my shit, get in line behind Sin.” The words are bitter on my tongue, and I bite into my cheek to taste the sweet cinnamon flavor of my blood instead.

“Don’t act fucking stupid.” He glares. “You and I both know something has gotten into you, and I’m pretty sure we both know what it is.”

I stumble backward slightly, Mom’s voice replaying over and over in my head. “With everything going on right now, especially after the attack at the Dragon’s Lair, we have more important shit to worry about, Creed. This”—I point to the ground—“is nothing.”