by Rina Kent
But then again, nothing is worth jeopardising my position in the school. I’m part of the invisible folk. You know the type. Those whom no one actually cares if they miss a class or two — or an entire year. And I’d like to remain that way, thank you very much.
Invisibility is a cool superpower that allows me to breeze through without any bullshit or drama.
I should’ve probably chosen a lesser noticeable best friend than Dan. To my defence, when I found out Daniel’s popularity, he’d already pasted himself as my wingman with super glue.
Even with his popularity, I’m still invisible enough that his harem of girls don’t notice me when they’re hitting on him.
Extra Royal Elite’s students are still wearing their pristine uniforms with red ties and navy blue jackets. On their pockets, the school’s golden logo is engraved. The lion in a shield, topped by a crown is a sign of both the power and corruption simmering in the walls of the school.
There’s a reason why uniform-people are alone in a circle, probably discussing books. I would join, but I doubt they’d like it when I tell them that they’re not supposed to wear a uniform to a party.
Even I, a total ‘party terrorist’ — per Dan’s words — have opted for jean shorts, fishnet stockings and a simple blacktop. Oh, I also wore my favourite, white basketball trainers that Mum painted black stars on.
My heart shrinks at the thought. I take a deep breath of the alcohol and the designer perfumes permeating the air.
Fun. This is supposed to be a night of fun.
My idea of fun includes either my art studio or marathoning the latest gory film.
Just saying.
A long howl at the entrance wrenches me back to the present.
The chatter weans and the crowd parts like the red sea did for Moses.
When the kids trip over each other to make way, I’m not surprised when the football team waltzes in like freaking England’s champions. Only, wait. I think they did win a game that would lead them to some sort of a school championship today.
This could or could not be the celebration party for their win.
Another tiny detail that Dan forgot to mention.
I’m not going to kill my best friend.
I’m not going to kill my best friend.
Screw it.
I retrieve my phone and type.
Astrid: You’re dead, Dan. Better start picking your funeral song.
Daniel: Resistance by Muse. u know that. What got ur knickers in a twist?
Astrid: Football party? Give me a fucking break. I’d rather choke on my own vomit.
Daniel: First, ew. Second, did I mention ew? Third, stop being a drama queen, crazy bugger.
Astrid: Where are u?
Daniel: Convincing Laura Davis to suck my dick. Heard she deep-throats like a pro.
Astrid: You’re a pig *disgusted emoji*
Daniel: What? It’s on my list of things to do while I’m still in high school.
Astrid: I’m beginning to think that ur list only has sex missions on it.
Daniel: there’s nothing better than fucking.
Astrid: I’d rather watch gore.
Daniel: Astrid, I love u, but u’re weird.
Daniel: Gotta go, Laura is giving me the look.
Great. I’m really on my own while Dan is banging his random girl for the night.
My head becomes fuzzy, not sure if it’s because of the drink or something else. Even the football team who are fist-bumping the eager crowd and grabbing a random butt here and there become hazy.
All I keep hearing is the multiple shouting of “King!”
There are two of those at Royal Elite School — or RES. According to Dad — sorry, Father — I’m to stay away from anything with the King’s last name.
When I became Lord Henry Clifford’s ‘public’ daughter, he had two rules for me:
You will not disgrace the Clifford surname.
You will stay away from the King surname.
I usually wouldn’t listen, but the two kings of the school represent everything I loathe.
Unrestrained power.
Reckless behaviour.
Corrupted wealth.
They’re probably the ones who own this ridiculously, wealthy mansion. Old money is everything in RES and the King name is the definition of it. Even Dad’s old money and aristocratic blood don’t compare to theirs.
I don’t wait for the team’s grand entrance.
Invisibility 101: Never mingle with the popular crowd.
I make a beeline towards the back hallways of the mansion, but the cheers and the ‘Go Elite’ follow me all the way through.
The obsession with the football team in this school makes me twitchy. I mean, come on, they’re school kids, not the freaking Premier League titans.
But again, sports were never my thing. I’m all for art and creativity. I’m a far cry from being an athlete and Dan always makes fun of how even a small run makes me all breathy and panting.
The more I walk down the half-empty hallway, the more my skin heats. Something fuzzy and disorienting takes over my head. The couple making out near a door become double.
I sway and bump into something.
“Watch it!” Someone grunts and I mumble something in return.
Shit. I don’t feel good.
I reach for my phone to call Dan. The numbers become blurry, wavy lines. I blink and fall against a wall.
I hit Dan’s number and the rings sound like they’re from an underground room. He doesn’t pick up.
Come on, Dan.
I try again, but the more time passes, the hotter my skin becomes. My clothes feel like pieces of lava on my flesh.
I hit Dan’s number on my phone again. He still doesn’t pick up.
I remember that we agreed to meet at the car park so I opt to wash my face and head out there.
My hand sakes while I clutch the phone and make my way down the hall, searching for the washroom. There’s something else Dan mentioned about tonight’s party that somehow flashes into my fuzzy head.
Don’t go into the pool house. It’s restricted access.
I don’t know why I’m thinking about that now. Couples are on either side of the wall, making out and whatnot. Surely, if this was a forbidden area, they wouldn’t be here.
I push the first door to my right and stop. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh and unmistakable moans make me slam it shut immediately.
I try the next and the next, but they’re all either locked up or occupied.
And I might have pissed off a few couples.
My clothes stick to my heated skin and my legs become wobbly and weak. A summer vibe song blurts from the speakers and buzzes through my ears.
A rush of energy wobbles through me and a weird urge to dance takes hold of me.
After what seems like a trip down the similar halls, I spot one of the football team's players follow a girl out of an isolated room.
Thank God.
I run towards it as fast as my legs allow.
As soon as I’m inside, I head to the door on the right and almost cry with joy when it turns out to be a bathroom.
The automatic faucet opens, and I splash water on my face over and over, but there’s no extinguishing the fire on my skin.
I know something is wrong with me, I just don’t know what. Could it be the pizza I had with Dan on the way over?
All I know is that I need to go home. Now.
With one last splash of water, I trudge back to the bathroom’s door.
I should’ve heard the male voices. I should’ve hidden in the bathroom for a bit more.
Hell, I should’ve never went into ‘the room’ in the first place.
The moment I open the door, pale blue eyes peer into my soul.
King.
The same king I was warned to stay away from. He’s watching me with a smirk and a glint in his eyes as if he found his next prey.
“Looks like a little lamb lost her
way.”
Chapter Two
Astrid
Invisibility 101: Don’t mingle with the most popular boy in school.
* * *
Holy shit. Are those eyes for real?
It’s the first thought I have while staring up at the eldest of the school’s two kings. The blue is so pale, it’s almost grey, but not really. It’s like a cloudy sky with a promise of some blue. It’s impossible to predict whether they’ll darken into a storm or clear into a mesmerising day.
And it totally has nothing to do with how much I love the colour blue or how his eyes have one of the rarest variations I’ve ever seen.
I’d take hours and still not be able to come out with the right colouring.
In my two years in RES, I never paid attention to the ‘Kings’. Of course, they were shoved down mine — and everyone else’s— throats at school for being the rulers. The kings. The prodigy football players. The future heirs of King Entreprises that owns half the country and controls the other half through politicians.
You can’t escape the King surname in the UK — unless you live in a cave and even then, their name might follow you there. They dominate The Daily Mail and every mail. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they’re after the queen’s throne. Only, well, some might argue they’re already more powerful than her.
However, this is my first up-close and personal look at a ‘King’.
Levi King.
Captain of the football team.
Crowned king of the school.
And attractive as shit.
It’s not his eyes, but more like all of him. His golden blond hair is short on the sides and long in the middle to be pushed back in a tousled, sexy kind of way. His jaw is too sharp for a seventeen going on eighteen-year-old. He’s too tall, I have to look up to stare up at him — or ogle the shit out of him, basically. The hard ridges of his shoulders and arms hint at muscles honed by hours in the practice room. He’s like a young Viking in dark jeans, a black T-shirt and the team’s royal blue jacket that has the school’s Lion-Shield-Crown on it.
Yup, he totally inherited Viking genes from the folk who invaded England’s shores once upon a time.
Well, shit. Even with the football team reminder and something Dad said about staying away from the King last name, I want to run my fingers through his hair and see if it feels as smooth as it looks.
I open my mouth, meaning to say something — probably stupid — but nothing comes out. That’s weird. I don’t feel as funny as I did not so long ago.
If anything… energy buzzes through my heated skin so hard, I feel a tremor running along my limbs.
I stumble forward and a strong hand clutches my bare forearm.
A bolt of electricity shoots under my skin and straight to a strange part of me.
Oh, God. That feels so good.
“You good there, princess?” He removes his hand after steadying me.
I clutch it in mine and put it on my arm. “Do it again.”
My voice is too sultry even for my own ears, but I don’t care. His touch just elicited something euphoric and I want to feel it again.
My lips clamp around a moan as I rub his hand up and down my arm in a long sensual caress.
For the love of Vikings, why does it feel so smooth and hot and… bloody amazing?
I need more.
A lot more.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He stares down at me with a look of interest mixed with menace.
Or maybe it’s only menace and I’m imagining the interest part because my body needs it right now.
He pulls his hand free from mine and before I can groan at losing the sinful sensation, he advances into me until I’m pressed against the doorframe.
He smells like clean soap mixed with expensive men perfume and smoke. I sniff with a loud, embarrassing sound like a drug addict taking a fix.
All that penetrates my hazy brain is his hot as shit presence and that he’s way too overdressed for a Viking.
I reach for him in a mindless attempt to remove his clothes. His jacket brushes against my top and my nipples tighten with pulsating throbs.
My movements stop at the humming sensation. That feels so good.
Why does it feel so good?
Worse, why the hell do I want to rub my breasts against his chest — or jacket, I’m not so picky right now.
“You’re not supposed to be here, princess.” The rumble of his voice rolls over my hyper-aware skin like whips of his tongue.
I nod, not even knowing what I’m nodding to. I just need him to get a little closer.
“Do you know what happens to bad girls who go where they shouldn’t?”
I continue nodding, too transfixed by the ethereal blue of his eyes. Are those some flecks of grey in them? If only I had my sketchbook to capture the moment.
Though it would be near impossible to emulate the colour.
Levi grabs me by the arm and this time, a moan escapes my throat as he drags me out of the bathroom and into the vast room I breezed through earlier.
I’m so focused on his hand on my bare skin and how my thighs tighten to notice anything around us.
“Look what I found.” His voice alerts me to the shapes in the dim-lit room.
The low music thumping from the walls has ‘You’ll end up dead’ in the lyrics as soon as I let the outside environment sink in.
Okay, that’s not creepy at all.
Half of the football team are either smoking, drinking or playing cards. They all look up at Levi’s words.
“I thought girls were for later?” One of them asks with amusement. “Not that I mind. You can start with my dick, love.”
Eww.
“Naw, come on!” Another throws a deck of cards. He has curly brown hair and is wearing his jacket backwards. “I’m not taking your sloppy seconds anymore, Chris. C’est pas cool.”
“I’m your senior, Ronan. Shut it.”
“I think she wants me first.” Hot breaths tickle down my ear as warm lips brush the earlobe. “Don’t you, princess?”
Um yeah! Yeah!
Keep doing that, please.
I want to shout that at the top of my lungs, but I can’t find the words. I can only close my eyes and lean into his hard chest. Well, hell. He can probably use this thing as a board.
Something at the back of my mind tells me this is wrong — so wrong, but I don’t particularly care about that something at the moment.
That something can go suck it as long as King keeps touching me and making me feel good. Torturous, but still so fucking good.
“Wait.” A smooth voice calls from my right from where two members of the football team are isolated playing… chess?
He stands up and stalks towards me with infinite ease. His team jacket clings to his broad shoulders. Either he walks too silently or I’m too buzzed to hear his steps.
Because the next thing I notice, he’s in my face, looking down at me with sinister eyes darker eyes than Levi’s. Even his hair is jet black. He shares Levi’s straight nose and the same posture, but he’s nothing like him.
While Levi gives the impression of a badass, Viking King. His cousin has the aura of a silent, serial killer king who might or might not slaughter his people if he feels bored.
The young king, Aiden, watches me for a few, long seconds with his hands nonchalantly tucked in his pockets as if he’s assessing a lamb for slaughter.
Damn these two cousins and how beautiful they are. Even with menace written all over his face, I can’t help noticing the whole deadly charm he has going on.
“You’re Clifford, aren’t you?” Aiden asks.
“Clifford?” The previous playfulness in Levi’s voice vanishes into thin air and his tone hardens.
I hold on to the feel of his hand on my arm as I choke out. “I’m just Astrid. Clifford is Dad’s name.” I giggle and lower my voice. “Oops. Shh. Don’t tell him I called him Dad. He doesn’t like that.”
Aiden rai
ses an eyebrow as if he’s proven a point, but he’s not looking at me. “Hands off, Lev.”
Silence rolls in the room. Even the other guys in the room stop doing whatever is on their hands and focus on me sandwiched between the two cousins.
Or more like, they’re focused on the hostile energy that’s somehow brewing between the two kings.
Me? I rub my back against Levi’s chest, needing to feel the friction and something else — I just don’t know what.
“No.” It’s a single word, but even in my half-dazed, euphoria-seeking state, I can feel the power behind it.
“Father said —”
“I don’t care what he said.” Levi cuts him off in a cool tone. “Uncle doesn’t tell me what to fucking do.”
A few of the guys howl as if he delivered the punchline of the century.
“It’s your own grave.” Aiden lifts a shoulder and stalks back towards the chessboard and another player who’s been waiting for him.
Levi’s arm curls around my shoulder and he pulls me to the hard curve of his side. A shot of electricity runs through me and settles between my thighs as his fingers stroke my bare skin underneath my top.
I suck in a stuttering breath, holding on to the sensation with everything in me.
“Anyone else has any objection to make?” he asks, but he doesn’t seem to be expecting an answer.
Levi King’s word is law.
Anyone who goes against him can only crash and burn.
The football team’s players all come from prestigious, tycoon families, both old and new money, but they’re nothing compared to the King’s power.
The only one who can stand up to him is another King. Which isn’t happening any time soon since Aiden seems to have lost interest in this situation altogether. He sits on his chair, head leaning against his hand as he continues playing chess.
I’m not surprised when not one of the team members says a word.
Levi drags me beside him down the hall. I hold on to every touch like I’ll die if he stops touching me.
“Keep me some, Captain!” One of the guys shouts.
