by James Tate
Mattie reached into her bag and yanked out an Arbon Royals ball cap. “I got your back, girl. Drop this on that gorgeous head of yours, and let’s go watch our men.”
I wasn’t sure which men she was talking about; but I had somewhat claimed them all, so it was all good.
Our seats, it turned out, were phenomenal. Right near the field, we had the perfect view of the crisp green grass, white nets, and the newly painted white lines that didn’t have a single imperfection, from what I could see.
“How long does a game go for?”
While I’d been physically present for loads of practices over the last few weeks, I hadn’t paid a huge amount of attention to the rules. I’d mostly studied and daydreamed about my sexy golden boyfriend.
“Ninety minutes,” Mattie said, all but bouncing in her seat. She’d pulled out another cap, an almost exact match to mine, but the two colors were inverted on the pattern. “Two forty-five minute halves.”
“And the guys play the entire time?” My god, they must be so fit. That explained all the fucking abs.
“Depends,” Mattie said, turning toward me. “Most of them will sub on and off at different times, but Rafe is rarely taken out. Same with Alex. They’re the best two on the field. Don’t tell Nolan I said that.”
I snorted. “Poor Noles. He hates not being number one.”
“He’s four, behind Jordan,” Mattie added with a shrug.
More people poured in through the opening. The opposing team had a strong turn out as well, their forest-green uniform mimicked by their spectators. All around me chicks were dressed in soccer shirts, most of them with Rafe’s name and the number twenty-two on the back. There were a few Alex shirts as well with fifteen, his number, on the back, but by far the most common was Rafe.
“Does everyone here love the Swiss prince?” I complained. “I mean, his personality is horrendous. What do they see in him?”
Mattie cleared her throat, and I turned from the crowd to her. “What?”
“He’s generally pretty nice. Aloof, of course, but they expect that from the most powerful heir in the world. You’re the only one getting that treatment.”
Throwing my hands up, I wanted to scream. “Why? It seriously can’t just be about Alex. It’s stupid.”
Screams went up in the crowd then, drowning out her reply, so she just patted me on the arm and we both turned to the field to see the players emerging from their dressing rooms.
The energy of the stadium and the tens of thousands crowded in here ripped through me, and I found myself edging forward on the seat. The Arbon Royals had two coaches, as did their opponents, plus a bunch of assistants, water people, line refs, and another ref in all white at the center of the field.
“I’m so fucking excited,” I murmured, still literally on the edge of my seat.
Once the coaches finished with their pep talk, eleven of the players headed out into the field and lined up in a single row.
Familiar music started, and everyone in the stands stood for the Swiss royal anthem. My gaze locked on Rafe, and it hit me then that the guy I’d been having a stand up fight with this morning was going to be a king. He mouthed the words to his country's song, the song of his people, and everyone in the stadium joined in, voices rising high with pride. Something unfamiliar tickled my throat, and I wondered why I felt so emotional.
Alex was going to be a king too, but the Swiss rulers … they were at the very top. Rafe looked like a fucking king already, so strong and tall.
Fuck. I was in trouble.
Thankfully, when it was over, I got my emotions back under control, focusing instead on the field as the players moved into their positions.
“Jordan is the goalie?” I asked.
“Yep,” Mattie said, waving to her brother, even though he wasn’t looking this way. “He’s the top goalie in our league, but he also hops out on occasion to play defense. Sometimes he wants to run.” She paused, giving me a teasing grin. “You seriously didn’t pay much attention to the game during all those practices, huh?”
“Shut up.” I laughed. “And Alex is a striker, near the front?”
She nodded again, humoring me. “Yep, Alex and Nolan are strikers, and they usually score the most and showboat the most. Rafe is a center forward.”
“Center forward,” I said, running the position around in my head. “I’m guessing that’s offense?”
“Oh yeah,” Mattie said. “It’s why Rafe’s footwork is so spectacular. He’s actually famous for running the ball the entire length of the field, through all the players, and scoring. His speed and skill are second to none.”
I already knew that from their practices, but once the game started, I realized that Rafe had been going easy in practice, no doubt because he was playing his own team and they were only mucking around.
“Oh my god,” I said, watching Rafe run through the opposing team. He was smooth, graceful, drop dead sexy, and—
Stop it, Violet!
Biting the inside of my cheek, I forced my gaze away from Rafe’s strong legs and tight ass and back to where it should have been all along. On my boyfriend.
Alex was running down the field along with other players, and the look on his face was pure determination. Mattie had told me when I’d first arrived that Alex and Rafe competed for everything, even though they’re on the same team. Maybe that’s why Rafe was such an insufferable prick to me? Because Alex had won? But that would imply that Rafe had been interested in me like that, and considering he was both betrothed and pretty much the most insulting fuck I’d met, that seemed unlikely.
There was really no good excuse for his actions.
“Tsinghua is good,” Mattie commented, her sharp gaze following the opposing team as they gained control of the ball. “I think we’ll still win this, though. The guys are already playing so much better than I heard they did against Oxford.”
I cringed at the reminder. The game against Oxford. The one I’d missed because Brandon had beaten the snot out of me, and the one the guys had played like shit in because their minds had been on me and my injuries. Or at least, that had been Alex’s reasoning.
For the next while, we watched as the ball got passed back and forth around the field. I cheered when Mattie cheered, and made a huge point of screaming for number fifteen—along with countless other female voices. When halftime rolled around, the Arbon Royals were in the lead, one-nil. Their coaches called them over into a huddle, but my heart soared when Alex looked up into the stands, his gaze searching. When he found me, his smile was blinding, and he pressed his fingers to his lips in a kiss.
“Holy shit,” Mattie muttered while I silently swooned. “He’s laying it on thick today. Pretty sure every girl in this stadium is searching for who he just blew a kiss to.” She smirked, giving me a sly look while the boys turned their attention to their coaches. “I guess he’s just being… great.”
“Oh my god,” I growled at her, “shut up about that. He still made me come every time; it wasn’t dud sex.”
My best friend cackled with laughter. “Never said it was a dud, girl. It was great.”
“You’re the fucking worst,” I grumbled, folding my arms over my chest and sinking into my seat. “I’m never telling you about my sex life again.”
This only made her laugh harder as she prodded me in the ribs. “Yes, you will. You love me teasing you.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t disagree. I’d never had a friend like Mattie before, and I was pretty sure if push came to shove, I’d happily pick her over any boys. No matter how great the sex.
“Shut up and watch the game.” I scowled at her. “Actually, I might run and grab us snacks before the second half starts. You want nachos?” I’d seen someone walk past with a plate of seriously gourmet nachos earlier, and my stomach had been rumbling ever since.
“Yup, you know it,” she replied with a huge grin. “Need me to come with?”
I shook my head. “Nah, stay here and save our seats.
I don’t want to end up with a shitty view.”
Mattie gave me a small salute, and I made my way out of the row we’d been sitting in, aiming for the concession stand below us. Food and drinks at these games were complementary, probably because students paid such an exorbitant price to attend. But it made things easier on me that I wasn’t scrounging for cash to buy nachos and a soda.
Once I was loaded up with a tray of food and drinks, I started carefully weaving my way back through the crowd to return to my seat.
A sharp shove in the center of my back sent me stumbling, and if it weren’t for my superior reflexes, my whole tray would have ended up on the ground or, worse, all over the people in front of me. As it was, though, I managed to catch it again before more than a couple of drops spilled from Mattie’s soda.
“Watch where you’re going, pauper,” a girl sneered at me, and I turned slowly to confront her.
She was pretty in that rich girl kind of way. The way that required a shit ton of money to maintain her appearance. But otherwise I didn’t recognize her.
“Excuse me?” I replied, arching a brow. “What the hell is your problem?” Because it was pretty damn clear she’d been the one to shove me. Her gaze flicked to my tray, and her nose wrinkled in an unattractive way, like she was pissed I hadn’t dropped it.
“You’re my problem, gutter baby.” Her sneer was really unattractive, and I retracted my thought of her being pretty. “You have no right to be here. No right to be running around with the royals like you belong. You don’t.”
Both my brows hitched now, and I figured it was probably a safe assumption this girl was friends with Claudette.
“Actually, as the Arbon Academy ballot winner I have every right to be here. So I’ll repeat myself, what the hell is your problem?” I was being sarcastic because it was pretty clear what her problem was. She was an elitist and thought that the ballot was watering down the royal and aristocratic gene pool. It was a common view shared among upper aristocrats but, interestingly enough, rarely by the royals themselves. The fact that every prior ballot winner has gone on to marry into the royal families proved that. I wasn’t sure if any had ever married a crown prince though--they usually stuck to their own. The very reason I’d been wary of Alex initially.
The girl sneered again. “You think you’re so fucking special because you’re spreading your whore legs for Alex, but just wait until you end up like Jasmine, broken to pieces at the bottom of his staircase because he couldn’t control his jealous rage.” She smirked and leaned in closer like she was telling me a secret. “You know she was pregnant when she died?” Her face was so smug I couldn’t help myself; I tipped my tray just enough that Mattie’s drink over-balanced and dark brown soda poured all over her skimpy black-and-gray miniskirt. Oops.
The girl howled with rage, but I was already moving past her. If I engaged any longer, I was likely to strangle the bitch.
When I made it back to Mattie, my hands were still shaking and my jaw hurt from how tight I was clenching my teeth. Jasmine had been pregnant? Alex had not mentioned that in his version of events.
Could it be true?
And what the fuck had that chick meant about Alex’s jealous rage? I’d never seen that side of him…
“Girl, what took you so long?” Mattie asked as I sat down heavily. “Oh, you didn’t get me a soda? Damn, I should have asked for one.”
I shook my head, numb and incapable of words just yet.
“You okay? You look… pissed.” She frowned at me with genuine concern, and I swallowed past all the icky, negative feelings swirling around my gut. I couldn’t tell her what that bitch had just said, not with how quick they all were to judge Alex. Mattie had just started tolerating him for me.
“Yep,” I replied with a tight smile. “Just one of Claudette’s buddies harassing the peasant. I might’ve dumped your drink down her shirt. Sorry about that. We can share mine.”
Mattie snorted a laugh, but nodded and stuffed a nacho in her mouth.
On the field, it looked like the players were getting ready to head back out. A few took sips of water, some tightened the laces on their boots, and some chatted. Alex looked up at us again, found my eyes, and blew another kiss before he ran out onto the field. It was almost enough to chase away the uncomfortable feeling churning in my gut. Almost.
Until Rafe caught my eye. He was glaring up at me with such open hostility that a shiver of apprehension rolled through me. What the fuck was he so upset about now?
Jordan was saying something to him, his face hard, and as he spoke he gestured vaguely in Alex’s direction.
“I wish he’d admit that Alex didn’t kill anyone. Rafe’s so fucking prickly and for exactly zero reasons.” I grumbled as Rafe finally looked away from me and followed Jordan out onto the field. I didn’t need to specify which him I was talking about. Mattie knew.
“Don’t hold your breath,” she replied with a dry voice. “Somehow I think the addition of you has only made things worse.”
I scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Damn girl, do I need to spell it out? Rafe wants to fuck you. Has ever since you arrived here. The fact that you’re with Alex is just… fuel on the fire.” She shrugged like this was common knowledge, but my face heated.
“What? No, he doesn’t!” But already I was thinking about the way he’d pressed his body to mine this morning, how he’d threatened to slide his hand down my jeans and— “That’s crazy talk.” I didn’t sound convincing.
Mattie just laughed and shrugged. “Whatever. You’re with Alex, and you guys are so cute together it kind of makes me gag. Rafe will probably pick up some groupie chick after the game and fuck you right out of his system. For the next day or so, anyway. Until you two get into another argument.” She seemed to find this all kinds of funny.
“Right.” I murmured my agreement, but fuck me if her words didn’t make me want to scream in horror and frustration. Why did the idea of Rafe fucking some other girl make me feel so… damn… violent?
Huh. Maybe that’s what he’d meant when he called me Violence.
Chapter 23
The Arbon Royals won the match three to one, and I discovered I genuinely loved the game of soccer. It was exciting and fast-paced and the boys… dear god. How had I come so far in life and not appreciated the sheer masculine beauty of male soccer players?
Mattie was jumping around and cheering with everyone else as the two teams shook hands on the field, and I was grinning so hard my cheeks hurt. Internally, though, my whole body was alight with nervous butterflies.
The game was over, which meant my fight was almost here.
“Oh shit!” Mattie gasped, and my attention flew back to the players.
A second ago, the Arbon Royals had all been celebrating and congratulating each other on their win. Now? Now there was a full-on brawl happening on the field.
“What’s going on?” I asked, hoping she’d seen something I might have missed.
“I have no idea,” she replied, her eyes wide as she stared down on the fighting players, “but I’m pretty sure it started when Alex punched Rafe in the face.”
I groaned, rubbing my forehead. It didn’t take a genius to work out what might have happened, considering all the slut-shaming slurs Rafe had slung my way at breakfast. I hoped Alex hit him hard enough to hurt.
“Should we…” I indicated to the brawl, which was only growing bigger by the second.
Mattie shook her head. “Nah, they can sort it out themselves. Come on, let’s go. You can tend to your great boyfriend’s wounds after they all shower and change.” She snickered at her own lame-ness, and I glared at her in good humor.
As we followed the crowds out of the stands and toward the exits, security guards were rushing to the field to contain the situation. It didn’t take long for the fight to be broken up.
“So, you want to hit up the after party at Drake’s place?” Mattie asked as we emerged back into the academy halls. It
was pretty awesome how it was all connected so we rarely needed to step outside into the frosty winter weather.
I shook my head, thinking of my prior engagement for tonight. “Nah, my liver can’t handle another round of flaming flamingos.”
She snorted a laugh. “Flaming illusions. But whatever, spoilsport. You’re going to lurk around to kiss Alex’s injuries better, aren’t you? So much for waiting until you’re off campus to start fucking.” She was teasing, so I gave her a playful whack on the arm to shut her up. Just in case the entire school didn’t already know we were having sex—they totally did—I’d rather her not be broadcasting it.
“Whatever, girl,” she snickered. “I’m going to get changed so I can score myself some great sex tonight, too. Tell my dickhead twin I’ll meet him there, okay?”
I nodded at her and waved. “Will do.”
I hadn’t bothered denying her joking accusation because she was at least partly right. I did want to hang around and make sure that Alex wasn’t hurt… but then I had a prior engagement with an illegal Damascus steel blade, a purple catsuit, and a mask. Tonight Vengeance was coming out to play.
The crowds of spectators thinned out as I drew closer to the locker-room door and away from the main thoroughfare, so I didn’t feel like too much of a creeper lurking in the hallway.
I propped my back against the wall right beside a team photo from the year before, when the Arbon Royals had won the University League Cup, and prepared myself to wait until Alex had debriefed, showered, and changed. It was only a few minutes, though, before I heard raised voices, and the locker-room door slammed open.
“You,” Rafe snarled, advancing on me like a wolf released from its cage. His cheek and left eye showed a pink discoloration where Alex’s first punch must’ve landed, which said he’d been caught by surprise. No way would that have happened if Fallen Angel had had his wits about him.
I heaved a sigh and tried to ignore his proximity. “I’m just waiting for Alex. You know, my boyfriend?” I glared up at the surly prince. “That is unless you’ve hospitalized him?”
