Deviant King (Royal Elite #1) by Rina Kent

My walls crumble and I can feel myself losing and crashing to pieces by him.

I suck a breath into my lungs and try to level my tone. Uncle Jaxon always told me that the best negotiating method is to be confident. Even if it’s only the fake type. If I show weakness, Aiden will only lunge towards it like a shark to blood.

My best bet is to be calm — no matter how hard that is.

“King!” I blurt. “Are you happy now?”

He smiles with approval. “Not really, but you’re learning.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“I called you by your stupid last name, what else are you waiting for? Hail to the king?”

He chuckles. “Let’s save that for another day.”

As if there will ever be another day with this bastard. However, I smile. “Fine. Now, screw off.”

“You know…” he trails off. “You really play stupid moves.”

“What?”

“When your opponent charges for the attack, you’re supposed to stay low, not crash with him head first. You’re the only one who’ll get hurt.”

Whatever the hell that means.

“I was ready to let you go, but you pissed me off, so I changed my mind.”

I watch his poker face closely. Aside from the slight twitching in his left eye, he looks peaceful to me.

Not pissed off at all.

But then again, what the hell did I know about Aiden’s body language? He’s like a fort.

Impossible to climb, to peer over, or to destroy.

“Then change it back,” I mumble.

“That’s not how it works.”

“Let me go and I won’t tell anyone,” I say in my most neutral tone.

“Is that so?” His fingers draw small circles inside my thighs, and I clench my fists against the sensation.

I bite back the discomfort and the freaking tingling. “Yes. I only want to finish this year in peace.”

“What makes you think I want you to have any peace, Frozen?” He grips my sex harshly. “You were born to suffer.”

I cry out at the intrusive gesture. A zap bolts straight from where he’s gripping me to my entire body.

Aiden is watching me with those sadistic eyes. Only now, the glint is becoming darker. Hazier. Stronger.

He loves having this effect on me. He’s getting high on it.

Like a drug addict who can’t get enough, he seems ready for more.

The harder I refuse, the more drastic his methods become.

It started with demanding my phone then he wanted me to call him by his last name then he wanted me to apologise.

Whenever I say ‘no’, his assault becomes relentless.

Ruthless.

Remorseless.

I’m provoking a monster.

A full-blown monster.

During my years of struggle against bullies, I learnt to never give them what they want. If I acknowledge their bullying or show them I give a damn about what they did, it’d give them the incentive to push harder.

Aiden is darker than the usual bully, but he’s still a bully all the same.

Only he doesn’t want those apologies or for me to beg or even the damn phone. He wants my struggle.

He wants my helplessness.

My weakness.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt and try to mean it.

He pauses his ministrations for a second, but he doesn’t release my sex. His gaze meets mine and his left eye twitches before he presses his thumb on my clitoris above the cloth.

My legs shake and I briefly close my eyes, willing the feeling to go the fuck away. I shouldn’t be affected by whatever this monster is doing.

“Why did you say that?” he asks.

“You told me to apologise.”

“You don’t mean it.” He leans closer and whispers in hot breaths against my ear, his voice amused. “Did you seriously think I’d fall for that, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart?

Sweet-fucking-heart?

It takes everything in me not to let my anger seethe to the surface. I want to push him so badly, but I know it’ll only give him the upper hand.

Aiden’s type gets off on hysterics. It’s their driving force.

I level my tone. “I apologised as you asked.”

“Apology denied.” He muses. “You of all people don’t get to play games with me.”

You of all people? What the hell is that supposed to mean?

“You said you’d let me go. This isn’t fair.”

“Who said anything about fair, hmm?”

How am I supposed to win if he keeps changing the rules?

An idea flashes in my head. It’s something I learnt from old Chinese war books.

When cornered, use your opponent’s attack mechanism.

“What do you want, Aiden?” I soften my tone. “Tell me.”

There must be something he wants. If he asked me the question then he must already have an answer of his own.

“Let me guess.” He smiles without humour. “You’ll make it happen?”

“If you let me go.” It’s a dangerous game and he might decide to not play fair again.

“You never cry.” He observes me, sliding his thumb back and forth over my clit.

I clamp my lips against the sound trying to claw its way through. I want him to stop, but I also want something else.

What, I don’t know.