Playboy Princes: Royals of Arbon Academy

by Eve, Jaymin

  If he wasn’t going to give me the release I needed, I’d take it for myself.

  Fuck Rafe and his fucking games. Okay, sure, I might have sort of started it, but this was so much worse, and I was super-pissed.

  Time to show him just how easily I could come all on my own. Good thing I’d had plenty of practice.

  And Rafe handled it right up until my eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment and a breathless groan escaped.

  Then he punched the wall.

  Chapter 22

  Rafe sucked a sharp breath through his teeth and glared at me like I was to blame for all his issues.

  “Oh suck it up, princess,” I muttered under my breath, wrapping the strip of torn t-shirt fabric a little tighter around his hand than it really needed to be. “Nothing’s broken, as far as I can tell. You just need some ice.” I quirked a brow at him, trying to hide my amusement. “Surely the big bad Fallen Angel has had split knuckles before?”

  Okay, in fairness, it was a bit worse than that. I was pretty sure I could see bone.

  Rafe just grunted a pissed-off kind of noise and jerked his injured hand out of my grip. “I told you it was fine. You’re the one who felt the need to play Florence Nightingale, Violence.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah well, no one forced you to go punching a brick wall.”

  With his good hand, he grabbed my jaw, bringing my face to his so our foreheads touched. “Yes. You did.”

  His intense gaze held me fast, like I’d been immersed in quick-dry concrete, forcing me to see all the conflicting emotions in his eyes. There was too much going on in there for me to easily unpack, but one thing was abundantly clear. Rafe still wanted me. Badly.

  “Sure I did,” I replied with a nervous laugh, wrenching my chin free of his grip and forcing my limbs to obey me once more. “Come on, we should go.”

  I stooped to swipe my blade from the floor where Rafe had dropped it, and bit my lip against the way my suit moved over my naked breasts. Stupid fucking Prince Rafe had cut my bra in two, and I hadn’t been able to find my panties anywhere in the dark corridor. So that meant I had redressed in my paper-thin catsuit with nothing underneath.

  Neither of us spoke as we made our way through the dark tunnels, but I couldn’t help watching him from the corner of my eye. The tension in his shoulders was more than just pain from his hand, and it made me all kinds of smug.

  Legit. The sight of Rafe punching a brick wall as I made myself come right in front of him would stay with me forever. Hottest. Thing. Ever.

  Not that I’d ever tell him that. Homeboy had a big enough ego as it was, and I was starting to think the universe needed me to take him down a few pegs.

  A sound ahead made us both freeze.

  I tilted my head at Rafe, meeting his eyes with a silent question. Fight or hide?

  His eyes narrowed a moment, like he was weighing our options, but the decision became irrelevant.

  “Relax, Fallen Angel,” the vaguely familiar voice called from the shadows ahead. “It’s just me.” Footsteps sounded, drawing closer, then Zachary Westbridge emerged from the darkness. He was dressed all in black, like he’d been attending the fights, but his mask was missing.

  “I come in peace,” he said with a sarcastic lilt, his hands held up in mock surrender. “Just needed a word with Violence.”

  “No,” Rafe snapped, taking a step forward and kind of shielding me with his body. I mean, it worked. He was probably double my size, and the lighting was shitty. “Fuck off, Zach.”

  Instead of arguing back, Zach just laughed like this was the reaction he had expected from Rafe. Or… from Fallen Angel. I couldn’t tell if Zach knew who he was talking to or not.

  “Oh come on, you know you can’t hide your pet from us forever. The society has rules, and you agreed to them all when we let her fight.” Zach propped his hands on his hips, his stance relaxed and confident. Whoever this society was, they had to be the ones running the fights. I’d thought it was the resistance, though.

  Either way, it looked like Zach was a member. How did that work?

  “Not. Now.” Rafe bit the words off, his voice rumbling with the thunder of his rage.

  Zach’s spine straightened the slightest bit as his whole demeanor shifted. Suddenly he radiated menace and authority.

  “Step aside, Fallen Angel.” His voice was pure ice, and it was clear he didn’t get questioned often. At least, not in his current role. Whatever the fuck that was.

  More shocking still? Rafe did what he was told.

  Sort of.

  He took one very small step to the side. Just enough to “obey” without being a totally whipped bitch. I snorted silently because it was such a fucking Rafe move it was actually funny.

  Zach knew it too, judging by the long-suffering sigh he released with a clenched jaw.

  “Prick,” he muttered, then turned his attention to me—still halfway hidden by Rafe’s black-clad form. “You fought well tonight, Violence. Really well. Who trained you?”

  Instantly, my walls went up. I mean, more than they already were because I’d have been a fucking moron not to be on guard in this unusual situation.

  “Just… a friend.” I kept it as vague as possible without outright refusing to answer. If Zach, the man-whoring asshole, really did hold the power to ban me from fights, I didn’t want to risk landing on his bad side.

  He gave me a tight smile. “Well, I’m glad Fallen Angel convinced you to fight again. You made quite an impression during your debut.” His eyes flashed with a kind of feral gleam that I could only explain as greed. He’d made money tonight, no question about it. But hang on a second…

  “Fallen Angel… convinced me?” I repeated, shooting Rafe a dark look from the corner of my eye. He wasn’t looking at me, though, as his murderous rage was fully seated on Zach. “Yep, he sure was convincing.” Like how he extracted a favor out of me in exchange for letting me fight. Motherfucker was always going to get me in! “Was that all? We, uh, have places to be.”

  A leering grin pulled at Zach’s lips as he eyed my exposed neck. “I just bet you do. All that adrenaline…” He licked his lips—not even joking. Licked them like some kind of excited voyeur. “I’ll cut to the chase. Our society wants to extend a membership invitation to you, Violence. A woman of your considerable skill would be quite an asset to our ranks.”

  My brows shot up, surprise holding my tongue long enough for Rafe to react. A split second later, Zach’s body slammed into the wall with Rafe’s injured hand wrapped around his throat.

  It shouldn’t have been hot. It really shouldn’t. But fuck if my catsuit wasn’t a bit damp between the legs from watching the blood seep through my makeshift bandage when he tightened his grip.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he demanded of Zach, his voice a threatening rumble. “There are rules, like you just reminded me. She’s only fought in two events.”

  Zach, for what it was worth, didn’t look scared or, really, anything more than pissed off. He placed a hand against Rafe’s chest and pushed him firmly away, letting a silent war for dominance play out in their angry glares.

  When Rafe took a micro-step away and released the other guy’s throat, I allowed the breath I’d been holding to puff out.

  “Two fights that senior members of the society were present at,” Zach replied, as though he hadn’t just been threatened with strangulation. “They were impressed. The offer has been made, and that’s my job done.” He shot a pointed look at me, past my guard dog’s broad shoulders. “Think about it, Violence. The resistance could be the home you’ve always been looking for.”

  Shock washed over me like an ice-cold wave, and I said nothing as Zach disappeared back into the darkness without any further explanation.

  The society was the resistance? And they’d just issued me an invitation into their group.

  Wait…

  “You’re part of the resistance? Or you at least know people who are,” I hissed at Rafe. “You’re a fuc
king prince. They’re trying to take the monarchies down.”

  He shook his head at me. “Not here. This is no place to discuss this shit.” He started to move. “Come on; Jordan will be pissing himself with worry that we’re not back yet.”

  My hand shot out, and I grabbed his wrist, halting him. “Not so fucking fast, Angel-boy,” I snarled. “I need some answers. Right freaking now.”

  The stubborn fucking look on his face told me he wasn’t playing ball, but I was never going to be that girl who blindly accepted a bland “trust me” just because she was getting good orgasms out of the deal. Nope, Violet Rose Spencer was no pushover.

  “Tell me, or I swear to fuck, I’ll sneak into your room while you’re sleeping and tattoo ‘little bitch’ right on your forehead.” My grip on his arm was like steel, and my voice was even harder.

  He shifted slightly, peering back at me like he wanted to check if I was serious.

  “Where would you get a tattoo gun?” he teased, but I was so far from being in the mood for games.

  “You want to fucking try me, Rafael?” My threat dripped from every word, and his body stiffened with the slightest tell. He believed me, and it was a damn good thing because it’d be such a shame to mess up his pretty face. I’d still do it, though.

  A heavy sigh gusted from his lungs. “Fine. But like I said, not here. It’s not safe… which that weasel-dick bastard Zach damn well knows.”

  “Fine,” I shot back, my jaw clenched in anger and frustration and… fear. “Where, then?”

  He gave me a small headshake and flipped his palm reader open. “Come on. I’ll tell the guys to meet us there.”

  * * *

  Ugh. I should have guessed where he would take me.

  “They might be a minute,” Rafe told me, stepping aside to allow me into the secret underground apartment that I’d been inside of just once before. After my last fight night… when Rafe and I….

  Ugh.

  “You want to shower or something?” he suggested, closing the door after us and setting the lock. From what I’d seen—this time I’d been paying attention—the door was locked with a keypad entry. Jordan and Nolan must also have the code.

  “No,” I snapped, totally helpless to stop my mind’s looping replay of the scene from the last time we were here. How I’d threatened to take care of myself in the shower, and it had ended with Rafe—“I just want answers, okay?”

  He shrugged, but his eyes gleamed with amusement and the vicious slant to his lips held a fraction of a tease. Fucker.

  Seconds later—thank all the gods—the door clicked unlocked and opened to admit Jordan… alone.

  “Where’s Nolan?” Rafe asked, on the same wavelength as me.

  Jordan shrugged, looking between the two of us. “No idea, I came straight here when I got your message. What’s going on?”

  Rafe frowned, then looked at his palm reader when another message came in.

  “Noles?” Jordan asked him, and Rafe nodded.

  “Not coming. Mattie had a few too many drinks, and he doesn’t want to leave her alone when Zach is in the academy.” His gaze came back up to rest on me, then he spared a quick glance for his best friend. “Guess it’s just the three of us then.”

  He reached behind him to flick the door lock once more, and my stomach sank.

  Locked into an underground apartment with the two guys I’ve been fucking? What could possibly go wrong?

  Straightening my spine, I pulled on my big girl panties and shared my death glare equally between them. Fuck it. Own the situation, Violet.

  “Alright, first one to answer all my questions gets his dick sucked. And, go.”

  Chapter 23

  “You okay, girl?” Mattie asked with concern as I slumped in my chair and rested my forehead on the dining table.

  I groaned, threading my hands through my hair like I could hide under my own arms. I hadn’t bothered straightening it, but thanks to Mattie’s Miracle Balm—which she kept me well stocked with—my usually wild-birds-nest of curls was just sexy and disheveled.

  “No,” I answered. All the words sitting on the tip of my tongue hurt because I couldn’t tell her. I couldn’t tell anyone. Jordan and Rafe had made that painfully clear last night when they’d finally started spilling their secrets.

  The resistance. They were part of The resistance. In a very small capacity, and mainly so they could keep tabs on it for their families, but also because they didn’t totally love the way the monarchy ran the world. Nolan was a new recruit, but they seemed to think Mattie didn’t know. Since she didn’t fight, they’d been able to keep this part of their lives from her, even though she clearly had some knowledge of the resistance. My bestie was the kinda girl who kept her ear to the ground, even if the boys around her didn’t notice.

  But still, I’d promised to keep their secret, and now I also had to keep something from my best friend. I wasn’t happy about it at all.

  I still couldn’t quite comprehend that the three princes were involved with an organization that had been secretly waging war against the monarchies since… fuck, since the Monarch War. And now they wanted me to join them.

  No, scratch that. Rafe and Jordan were vehemently against me joining, but the underground fights were entirely run by the resistance—sorry, The Society—and I’d made a splash.

  Mattie grunted a pained noise. “I hear that. I haven’t been this hungover in years.”

  Despite having the weight of a thousand secrets resting on my shoulders, I snorted a laugh at her. “I heard Noles left you to sleep it off in the bathtub after you vomited all over him.” I raised my head just enough to give her a teasing grin.

  Mattie groaned again, screwing up her perfectly made-up face. “Don’t remind me.”

  I laughed again, sitting up a bit more in my seat. Seeing her hungover was helping to distract me from all the heavy shit from last night. After the guys had told me everything I needed to know—or everything they were permitted to tell me—I’d bailed, citing the need for time to process.

  Instead, I’d just lain in bed staring at the ceiling all damn night, then fallen asleep about five minutes before morning.

  “Good morning, ladies,” Nolan greeted us, sitting down in the chair beside me and scooting closer, bumping my arm.

  “Ow!” I hissed, jerking away and holding my arm protectively. I’d managed to compartmentalize my pain for the better part of the night, first with Rafe fucking me in the tunnels, then with all the information bombs he and Jordan dropped on me. But when I’d gotten back to my room, the ache had started setting in from where Justice had nicked me with his blade, and my first aid skills were somewhat lacking.

  Nolan shot me a sharp look, and I gave him a small headshake. Sure, Mattie knew I'd been fighting, but she didn't need to know I'd been hurt. It was just a surface wound, anyway. No stitches needed... I hoped.

  Mattie was oblivious, though, looking up at our waiter with heart eyes as he delivered coffee.

  "I know why my darling twin looks like warmed-up roadkill today," Nolan commented, teasing his sister, "but why do you look so awful, New Girl?"

  My eyes narrowed. "Gee, thanks."

  His grin split wider. "Keeping you humble, gorgeous."

  I sighed and rolled my eyes, reaching for one of the steaming coffees. "I was up late with Jordan and Rafe." It was the truth without spilling any confidential information.

  "Damn, girl. Nice work," Mattie snickered, sipping her drink. "No wonder you're walking all stiff today."

  I frowned, confused, then clicked on what she thought I’d meant. Ah fuck.

  "That's not... I didn't..." I trailed off, shaking my head as my cheeks flush with heat. I would’ve liked to pretend it was embarrassment, but there was a healthy dose of arousal in there, too, at what Mattie was implying. Rafe and Jordan... and me... all night.

  Groan.

  "Well, Violet's rampant sex life aside, we should discuss the new transfer students. Or student." Nolan gave a s
mall grimace, and I suddenly recalled that Zachary Fuckface was transferring here. Shit, how could I have forgotten? Looked like I’d be right under the resistance’s nose after all.

  How many others here were secretly part of it as well?

  Before we got around to discussing the transfer student, a hand rested on my shoulder, caressing the side of my neck, and my unconscious reaction was to lean into the touch—thinking it was Jordan. But the sour expressions on Nolan’s and Mattie's faces told me otherwise.

  "What's this about our sex life, darling?" Alex purred from behind me, his grip tightening with a silent threat. "Have you been sharing all our dirty little secrets with your friends?"

  "Oh fuck off, Alex," Mattie snarled, slamming her coffee down hard enough to slosh brown liquid into the saucer. "You're not welcome here."

  "Ah, that's a shame. I always thought the Guays had such hospitable people too. Certainly your mother is always available for a nice chat whenever I call her." His voice held that unhinged, don’t-fuck-with-me tone that turned my stomach. This bullshit was between the two of us, and he needed to leave Mattie and Nolan alone.

  "Stop it," I snapped, giving my shoulder a shake to try and dislodge his grip. "And take your hand off me before I break it."

  Alex laughed a hollow, humorless sound but didn't remove his hand. "Ah, my love. Such violence. Come on; I need my loving girlfriend to help me with something."

  I was so, so tempted to tell him to go fuck himself with a cactus, but I couldn't forget the look on Mattie's face the other day in the library after Alex played dirty and started some bullshit with her mom.

  Gritting my teeth, I pushed back from the table, and this time Alex let me shrug his hand from my shoulder... only to wrap it around my waist when I stood. Fucker.

  "Catch you later, friends," he said to Mattie and Nolan, giving them a smug grin.

  I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood, just to hold the fury inside. Alex’s sudden appearance reminded me to check in with Jordan to see where he was up to on his virus plan. Seeing Alex hauled away in restraints—no matter how briefly he stayed locked up—would really put a smile on my face.