Savage Royals

by Callie Rose

  I stopped, frowning.

  Shit. I thought they left.

  It was the only reason I’d gotten up and danced again.

  Through the shifting, clear water, I could see that he’d stripped down to his black boxers-briefs like the rest of the swimmers, but he was the only one that looked both hot and intimidating at the same time. Kicking hard, I spun in the water and swam the other way.

  Finn’s golden-blond hair filled my vision, and so did his massive chest. I quickly tried to swim in another direction and bumped into a broad, tattooed chest. Cole glared down at me with impassive eyes and grunted. I moved to break left, but Elijah’s body blocked me as well. My feet moved furiously, treading water as I glared at them.

  “Jesus. What do you guys want?”

  “That boy you were dancing with is from Hilton Prep,” Elijah said seriously. “That’s a rival school.”

  Little droplets of water clung to the ends of his hair, the lights in the pool picking up the bronze highlights. I stared at him, my brows pulling together.

  “So?”

  “So what the fuck were you doing dancing with him, Legs?” Cole pressed, an accusing tone in his voice.

  “I was having fun. Is that a crime?” I shoved at his chest, which was a huge mistake, because it only made me think of the last time I’d put my hands on his bare chest.

  He grabbed both my wrists with one of his, pinning my hands in place as he narrowed his ice-blue eyes. “Yeah. Maybe it is.”

  I tugged hard until he released me, irritation and anger burning in my chest.

  “Why? You afraid if I dance with him, I’ll spill all of Oak Park’s secrets? I’ll tell him how to kick Finn’s ass at football? What does it fucking matter? No one at our school wants to dance with me, you made sure of that!” Spinning in a circle again, I glared at all of them. “Or are you just pissed because someone in the world doesn’t hate me? Am I not allowed to dance with anybody, no matter what school they’re from? Is that it?”

  “Yeah. That’s it.”

  Those three words from Mason’s lips were so simple, so final, that I felt them down to my bones.

  My stomach clenched as a wave of nausea washed over me.

  He meant it.

  Just like he’d meant it when he’d promised things would always be hellish as long as I stayed at Oak Park.

  They didn’t just want to ruin high school for me.

  They wanted to ruin my life.

  To ruin me.

  “You—don’t get to—decide that,” I said shakily, my whole body flooding with adrenaline as a useless fight-or-flight instinct kicked in.

  His hand rose out of the water, and he gripped my chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger. “Legs, it’s already been decided.”

  I slapped his arm away and shoved past him, pushing between him and Elijah to make a break for the edge of the pool. They parted to let me through, and I swam quickly toward the side nearest the house, heaving myself out of the water. As soon as I stood up, I slipped on the wet tiles and went down again hard, skinning my knees. Pain flared as streaks of red mingled with the water dripping down my shins, and a flash of panic nearly blinded me.

  Not my legs. Not my legs.

  It’d been four years since they’d been broken, but fear that I might lose them again, might lose my ability to dance, had stayed rooted in my brain like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

  I crawled to my feet again, grabbing onto a lounge chair to steady myself, as the Princes emerged from the pool behind me. My teal tank top had turned translucent from the water, and it clung to me, showing too much of what was underneath as the night air chilled my skin.

  And something inside me just—

  Snapped.

  I straightened and whirled as Finn pulled himself out of the pool, joining the other three who already stood on the tiles.

  “Why do you hate me so much?” I screamed. “What the fuck did I ever do to you? Is it because I’m poor? Because I’m from Idaho? Because I came from nothing? My family has just as much money as yours, you fucking assholes, even if I don’t make it my mission in life to make sure everyone in the world knows it!” My chest heaved, and I took an unsteady step toward them. “You wanna know what I think? I think you call me trash because you’re pissed as shit that someone like me can have what you have. That your little club isn’t as exclusive as you thought. That at the end of the day, we’re the exact fucking same!”

  “Talia…”

  There was a warning note in Mason’s voice, but my brain couldn’t register it. I knew people were staring. The laughter around us from when I’d fallen had died, replaced with something worse.

  But I couldn’t stop.

  “Fuck. You. You think I’m scared of you, Mason? I know what real fear is, and believe me, it doesn’t come from a pussy like you. You get off on pushing around a girl. What the fuck is wrong with you? With all of you! Jesus, Finn’s a bigger whore than I’ll ever be, and you keep calling me a slut.”

  That did draw a laugh from somewhere in the crowd, and Finn’s face darkened.

  But I didn’t care.

  More words were coming, and I couldn’t stop them.

  “You decided you hated me the first day you met me. Why? Because you don’t think I’m worthy? You don’t think I earned what I have?” My chest rose and fell fast, my lungs unable to draw in enough oxygen to sustain the words spewing out of my mouth. “Or is it because every time you look at me, it just reminds you that you’re not worthy either? None of you. You’re not special. You’re not better. You’re spoiled little trust-fund babies who’ve never had to work for shit. You have everything you could ever want, and the only thing you did to earn it was be fucking born!”

  My voice shook.

  My whole body shook.

  My stomach churned with an uncomfortable mixture of anger, pain, and fear. The rage inside me had flared like a fireball, white-hot and bright, but it had died just as quickly, and now all I felt was sick.

  Someone had cut the music while I was screaming, and as the echo of my words finally faded, a tense silence filled the yard.

  Now that my word vomit was out, real vomit rushed up to take its place, and I clamped my jaw shut hard, spinning and racing for the house. I plowed into a group of sophomore guys, shoving my way through the press of bodies until I found a hall leading to a bathroom.

  I slammed the door shut, threw myself down in front of the toilet, and hurled.

  My wet hair hung like a curtain around my face, and I grabbed it up in a messy clump as the whiskey burned its way back up my throat. I shivered like I was freezing, but my body felt flushed and hot at the same time, and I wiped the back of my hand over my mouth, sinking onto my hip and clinging to the toilet bowl as if it were a life raft.

  What the hell did I just do?

  I’d gotten into a screaming match with the Princes in the middle of a huge party. Called Finn a whore. Called Mason a pussy. Called them all spoiled trust-fund babies.

  In front of everyone.

  Jesus. They’re going to fucking kill me.

  The door opened behind me, and I looked up, expecting to see Leah or maybe Maggie.

  But it was Mason.

  He was still wearing nothing but wet boxer briefs, which clung way too closely to his body. His calves and quads were as ripped as every other part of him, and with his arms crossed over his chest, his dark brown hair slicked back, he looked utterly casual as he leaned against the doorframe. His glittering green eyes took in every inch of me, and the intense scrutiny was too much. Nausea hit me again, and I threw myself back over the toilet, groaning as my cramping stomach emptied every last bit of itself into the bowl.

  Gentle hands pulled my hair back, gathering it at the back of my head. When I finally stopped dry heaving, Mason helped me sit back against the side of the large tub. He pulled some toilet paper off the roll and handed it to me, and I weakly wiped my mouth with it and tossed it in the toilet before he flushed.

>   The lights over the mirror were dim, giving the small space an oddly intimate quality, and I noticed Mason had shut the door when he’d stepped inside, cutting us off from the rest of the party.

  He crouched before me now, balanced on the balls of his feet with his forearms resting on his thighs. His emerald eyes had that open quality that I wished I could love, and the expression on his face wasn’t angry.

  He looked almost… sad.

  “Is that what you really think, Legs?” he asked softly. “That we’ve all had it so easy and you’ve had it so hard? You think you’re the only one who’s had a tough life?”

  “You don’t know anything about my life.” My voice was rough and scratchy, my throat raw.

  He dipped his head. “You’re right. I don’t. And you don’t know anything about mine.”

  “I don’t think that’s really my fault.”

  His long fingers were laced together, and he raised them to his lips, still staring at me contemplatively. “No. Probably not. And you’re right. The Hildebrands are one of the wealthiest families in town, and you are a Hildebrand. Charlotte Hildebrand’s daughter. Through and through. That’s your legacy now.”

  He was still speaking quietly, no scorn or hate coloring his voice, and I didn’t know what to do with it. Experience had taught me not to trust the softer side of Mason Van Buren, but I couldn’t figure out where he was going with this.

  With a decisive nod, he reached for my hand, rising to his feet and pulling me up too. My knees wobbled badly, and the scrapes on my skin stung with the movement, but he held my arms to steady me.

  “You really want to be one of us? A Royal? You really think you can handle being a part of our world, Hildebrand?” he asked, his thumbs rubbing gently against the skin of my arms. It was a tiny movement, and I wasn’t even sure he knew he was doing it, but it made goosebumps prickle all over my skin, made my nipples harden even more. “Because I’ll tell you, if you think it’s all fucking rainbows and cupcakes, you’re wrong as hell.”

  “I can handle it.” My toes curled into the cool tile floor, but that was the only outward sign I gave of my nerves. “I can handle you. I can handle anything.”

  A small smile tilted his lips, one that almost seemed to take him by surprise. What? Had he expected me to back down? Maybe it would be the sane thing to do at this point, but it somehow felt like it was too late for that.

  “You’re a fighter, Talia. I’ll give you that.” His hands moved up my arms, his fingertips drifting over my collarbone and the base of my throat.

  It was an oddly tender gesture, and my pulse picked up. I was sure he could see it fluttering wildly in my neck, revealing the truth I would never say out loud.

  That he frightened me.

  That he affected me, in ways I couldn’t even begin to articulate yet.

  “I don’t want to be,” I murmured thickly. “I don’t want to have to be.”

  “No.” His eyes shuttered for a moment, but not before I saw the flash of pain behind them. “I don’t think any of us want to be. But you are.”

  He stepped back, and my skin felt suddenly bereft, the places where his hands had touched me still burning with fire.

  I blinked at him, trying to understand what was different about him. It felt like something seismic had shifted between us, as if the very foundation of our relationship had changed somehow, and I couldn’t quite find my footing on this new plane of existence.

  His gaze bounced between my eyes for a second longer, then he dragged in a deep breath and turned for the door.

  “Have a good break, Legs.”

  And he was gone.

  Chapter 15

  After the end-of-semester party, I swore I’d never drink again.

  Every time I thought about whiskey, my stomach gurgled unpleasantly as the entire awful night played on fast-forward through my head.

  I’d been prepared for the Princes’ wrath, but it never came—though it may have been because I barely saw them after that night. Everyone cleared out quickly once the semester was officially over, and I only caught a brief glimpse of Finn heading toward the student parking lot on Saturday.

  Jacqueline had insisted I come stay with her and Philip for the holidays. We had two weeks off for winter break, and even though I didn’t love the idea of spending that much time in my grandparents’ stuffy, sterile house, the idea of staying locked up in my dorm like I had been all semester was even worse.

  As I pulled up in front of the Hildebrand mansion on Sunday afternoon, Jacqueline greeted me, flanked by two staff members. One grabbed my bags out of the trunk, and the other drove my car around to the garage, leaving me nothing to do but trudge up the steps behind my grandma. I still hadn’t gotten used to being waited on hand and foot like this; it made me feel awkward, spoiled, and useless.

  “How are you?” Jacqueline asked, glancing over her shoulder as we walked inside.

  “I’m good.” I shrugged, pulling my jacket tighter around me. My blood must’ve been thinning already, because the slight nip in the air made me shiver. “Tired. School’s been busy. I could use the break.”

  “I’m sure.” She nodded politely, her face blank. “We should say hello to your grandfather.”

  “Um… okay.”

  Should we, though? Really?

  He never seemed to want to see me, but I didn’t point that out to Jacqueline as she led me down the hall toward what I now knew was Philip’s study. She wore a soft lavender pantsuit, and her heels clicked on the polished floor. Her honey-brown hair and makeup were perfect and classy as always, and even though I’d worn some of my new clothes, I still felt sloppy and underdressed in her presence.

  When we reached the office door, she knocked once and then pushed it open.

  “Philip, Talia is here.”

  He stood from behind his desk as we entered. I wasn’t sure what he did in here all the time, but I assumed it had something to do with running and maintaining the massive fortune he and my grandma had built. His usual glass of whiskey sat on the desk, and I suppressed the urge to barf at the sight of it.

  Ugh. No more vodka. No more whiskey.

  There was a subtle sheen in his eyes as he picked up the glass and came around the desk toward us, making me think he was already a little drunk. He also looked sort of… chipper, which wasn’t a word I ever would’ve used to describe him before.

  I waved awkwardly. “Hey, Philip. How are you doing?”

  “Excellent.” He smiled, rocking on the balls of his feet. “It’s almost Christmas; I love this time of year.”

  “Oh. That’s cool.” I shrugged. “I’ve never really been a huge fan of it.”

  “What’s not to love?” He tipped his head, chuckling. “Charlotte adored it. When she was a little girl, she’d tear down the stairs every Christmas morning like her feet were on fire. She’d always fall asleep by noon and nap until dinner because she’d been up all night Christmas Eve. This is her favorite holiday.”

  “Was,” Jacqueline said softly.

  Philip blinked. The happy smile slipped from his face, and his eyes clouded over as he leaned against his desk, toying with his glass. “Yes. Was.”

  I couldn’t tell if he’d honestly forgotten my mom was dead, or if he’d just gotten carried away in his enthusiasm and used the wrong verb tense. Either way, pity swelled in my chest, making my heart ache.

  “Let’s… leave your grandfather alone for a bit.” Jacqueline put an arm around my shoulders, turning me around and steering me from the room. “Why don’t you get settled in? Philip, dinner will be at five.”

  I peeked over my shoulder as I left and saw him drain the glass in one gulp, his face a mask of sadness.

  Shit. He’s hurting. Why haven’t I noticed that before?

  The way they usually talked about my mom, especially in reference to the few years before she’d left Roseland, had made me honestly question whether they’d loved her at all. But the look on his face, the way he’d beamed when he desc
ribed her as a little girl, made it sound like this had once been a happy home.

  It was nice to think my mom had had a good childhood, but it also left me more confused than ever. If my grandparents had loved her so much, what on earth had she done to make them disavow her completely? Had things really gotten that bad? Had she really stepped that far out of line?

  What the hell happened?

  My thoughts whirled as Jacqueline led me up the stairs and deposited me in my room, where my bags were already waiting. “Greta will fetch you for dinner in a few hours.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  She closed the door softly behind her, but I didn’t sit down. My whole body had felt wired ever since Friday night, alternately exhausted and buzzing with energy. So once her footsteps faded into the distance, I stepped back out into the hallway. Jacqueline had given me a tour when I’d arrived back in September, but it hadn’t covered the whole house—and I’d been so overwhelmed by the newness of everything that I hardly remembered it anyway.

  I had three hours to kill until dinner, so I poked around from room to room. Every room was tastefully decorated and beautifully furnished, but it still seemed so devoid of life—I kept thinking I’d stumble upon the room where they kept their actual stuff.

  As I headed down a long hallway on the third floor, something caught my eye. I stopped and stared at a picture on the wall, my brows scrunching up.

  It was of my mother when she was younger, surrounded by group of people who looked about her age. But what had made me pause was the sight of the child in her arms—a young girl with short, brown curls in a yellow sundress. A few of the other people in the photo held children too, and everyone smiled broadly at the camera.

  “What are you doing up here?”

  I jumped at the sound of Philip’s voice and pressed a hand to my chest, trying to slow my rapid pulse.

  “Sorry.” He chuckled softly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “You didn’t.” I forced a smile to my face. “I was just exploring the house, and I saw this picture of my mom.” I turned back to it, squinting slightly at the toddler propped on her hip. “Is that… me?”