Cruel King (Royal Elite #0) by Rina Kent

* * *



“This isn’t my captain, King. Get your head out of your arsehole,” Coach whisper-yells so only I can hear on his way out of the locker room.

The guys cheer as they carry Aiden on their shoulders. They drop him, slapping his back, and ruffling his hair.

He grins, but it’s fake. He doesn’t really enjoy any of this. He just makes it for appearances’ sake. A defence mechanism of sorts.

I button my shirt in silence. The familiar, gloomy energy surrounds me like a four-walled prison.

It’s not because of the game or even the bitching pain in my shoulder. It’s because those fucking green eyes that didn’t leave me since last night.

I might have spent a sleepless night, punching the bag in the gym.

I might have stopped myself a thousand times from barging into her house in the middle of the night and screw it if her father murders me.

This obsession is becoming dangerous and fucked up. I’m not the type of person who lets anyone else take over my thoughts, my mind and even my fucking dreams.

And yet, everything has been revolving around Astrid Clifford.

As if that wasn’t enough, she had to show up at the game and screw up everything.

I don’t know what pissed me off more. The fact that she wasn’t there for me or the fact that she was cheering another guy’s name right in front of me.

Whatever it was, it fucked up my entire game in the second half. And now, unreleased energy keeps buzzing in my veins demanding to be set free.

I might have to fight tonight. Or drink. Or both.

A finger taps my shoulder. I’m too caught up in my thoughts that the mere gesture takes me by surprise, and I clench my fists.

Aiden’s face appears to my right, wearing a frown. "You’re turning speedy, aren’t you?"

"Piss. Off," I snarl in his face.

He doesn’t even flinch at my open show of hostility. “This isn’t even about the game, isn’t it?”

“No, Cousin, it’s not about the game. It’s never about the game. It’s all about my screwed up genes, remember?"

He’s silent for a few seconds. That’s Aiden. Everything needs to be plotted to a T — including his damn thoughts. “If the chessboard doesn’t look in your favour, you’re the only one who can change its direction."

"Yo, me Kings!" Ronan interrupts us in a mock accent, flinging an arm around Aiden’s shoulder and the other around mine. “Party at my place. No objections. Deal? Deal.”

He drags us both to the centre and announces. “Victory party at the one and only Number thirteen’s! Captain approved!”

The guys hoot and carry Ronan on their shoulders.

“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t throw any more parties for us?” Xan taunts.

“Shut it, Knight.” Ronan throws him and Cole a dirty look. “This is my compensation for not having the cake bunny hookers.”

I should probably stop them since they need recuperation, but I’m in no mood to ruin their fun on the weekend.

Besides, I need to get myself out of this trance or drink myself to fucking sleep.

“Can we invite people?” Daniel asks from the corner.

“Mais oui ! The more the merrier, mon ami.”

Daniel grins and retrieves his phone. My eyes narrow on his hands. Is he texting Astrid?

My blood pumps harder at the thought. I don’t like it.

I don’t fucking like it.

I remove myself from underneath Ronan’s arm and stride to Daniel.

“Was that Astrid at the game?” I ask in a nonchalant tone.

As if I could ever mistake that tomboyish attitude, her soft voice, or those damn sparkling green eyes.

“Uh, yeah, Captain. She promised to be present for my first game.”

And be a fucking cheerleader, apparently.

“Are you inviting her to the party?” I ask.

“I sent her a text, but she won’t come. She hates these things.”

I don’t know if I should feel relieved or pissed off or both.



* * *



One hour later, half of the team are shagging in Ronan’s guest rooms. He made sure to lock his parents’ room. It’s off-limits since he found Cole or Aiden and their ‘kinky shit’ in it.

The only ones who remain with me in the pool house are Aiden and Cole and they’re playing chess. I played a game or two but I quickly got bored.

I had a drink and that turned too boring too fast, too.

Everything is.

I want to get out there and down one more shot or two and fucking fight someone. Not only is Aiden keeping me on a leash but I know exactly where that behaviour will lead me.

Another lifetime as Jonathan’s slave.

So I just stay around ready to stop any trouble that breaks out amongst the team members.

A girl, Nicole something, has been hanging off my arm since the beginning of the evening. She’s wearing my number and staring up at me with big wide eyes.

I want it to be a different face with my number on her back. Different person. Different fucking eyes.

“On your knees,” I order her.

“I’m not a whore.” Her lips part but even those are the wrong fucking lips.

“On your knees or get the fuck out of here.”

Her gaze strays to Aiden and Cole who sit on the opposite side right across from us. They’re too engrossed in their game to pay her the slightest attention.