Deviant King (Royal Elite #1) by Rina Kent

It’s working.

It’s freaking working, damn it.

Xander tugs on my wrist again as if pushing me to end this.

“Fine!” I seethe. “What the hell do you want?”

Aiden steps back but doesn’t break eye contact. I don’t want to back off first, but staring into those hollow eyes is exhausting.

It’s like being trapped in a void and screaming, but the only sound you’re able to hear is the echo.

“Everyone calls me King.”

“And?” I ask, not knowing what he’s getting at.

“You don’t.”

“That’s because you have a first name, why the hell would I call you by your last?”

“Who gave you the right to call me by my first name?”

“Huh?”

“Call me King.” His face lights up with malice.

He’s enjoying this. The bastard is enjoying seeing me helpless.

I thought Aiden was crazy before, but it turns out he’s a fucking psycho.

“Call you King?” I repeat, incredulous.

“It’s not rocket science. Say, please let me go, King and I might.”

I wiggle against Xander’s hold, hating how my breasts bounce with the move. “I don’t care who you are, Aiden, and you too, arsehole.” I throw over my shoulder at Xander who’s… playing on his phone? Seriously? I jut my chin at Aiden. “If you do anything to me, I’ll report you for sexual harassment and ruin your entire future.”

“Damn, Frozen. You’re truly fucked now.” Xander whistles. “You really shouldn’t have threatened him.”

“I thought you were smart.” Aiden tsks. “But I guess you have your stupid moments, too.”

Before I can ponder on that, he yanks me from his friend’s hold. I cry out as I collide against his hard chest. His rough fingers dig into my bra. He retrieves my phone and throws it behind me. To Xander I suppose. Then he grabs both my wrists behind my back, locking them in one bruising hand.

“I’m out of here,” Xander says in an absent-minded tone. “Don’t take long.”

His casual footsteps disappear into the distance.

I never thought I would want Xander to stay, but I’m ready to beg him to. He might be cruel, but he doesn’t have an empty gaze like the one Aiden is watching me with.

“You have the phone.”

“So?”

“So let me go.” I stare at his shirt, not wanting to meet his gaze.

“That would be a no.”

His fingers are back to my bra again, but instead of tracing like earlier, his thumb and forefinger latch onto my pebbled nipple through the cloth and he pinches.

A sound claws its way up my throat, but I clamp my lips shut around it. A strange heat invades my body and I hate it.

I hate the tormenting sensation.

I hate him.

I try to struggle, but that only pushes my half-naked breasts forward, making them bounce in his hands.

“Are you putting on a show for me?” He smirks.

“Screw you.”

He pinches hard again, and pressure builds behind my eyes.

“Try again.”

“What do you want from me, damn it?”

He pinches again, and I bite my lower lip so hard that I taste blood. I’m all flushed, sweaty, and sticky. It kills me that I’m allowing him to have this effect on me.

“So now you want to know what I want?” He tsks, lazily brushing his thumb on my hard nipple.

“Just tell me.”

“What makes you think I want to tell you now? Maybe I changed my mind. Maybe I like you this way.”

My chest heaves up and down in an erratic rhythm. He’s not even looking at me. All his attention is on my breasts and… the scar. He doesn’t break eye contact from it like he’s a child who’s found a new favourite toy.

He watches intently with that slight furrow in his thick brows. His suffocating interest makes me feel even more exposed than when he ripped my shirt open.

“I’ll do it,” I blurt. “Tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

His smokey eyes finally slide up to mine as he tilts his head.

It’s a dangerous tactic, but it’s the only way to swipe his attention from my scar.

“Apologise,” he says with a casualty that negates his blackening eyes and the torturous swipe of his thumb on my nipple.

“Apologise for what?”

“For threatening me.”

Hot fury whooshes through my veins like a fast-spreading fire.

Enough.

I’m not taking his entitled shit anymore.

“You’re the one who’s supposed to apologise to me! You ruined my life for two years for no reason and you’re now holding me against my will.”

“Hmm, for no reason.” He repeats with a casualty that kills me. “Is that what you think?”

Nope. No. I’m not breaking my rule. I won’t try to understand bullies.

Not now.

Not ever.

I wiggle against him, stomping my feet and groaning with pent up frustration.

“You might want to stop, Frozen.”

“Screw. You,” I grunt, willing all my strength to get me out of his hold.

“Keep struggling, and you’ll have to take care of this.” He pushes his hips into me. Something pokes against the softness of my belly.