Deviant King (Royal Elite #1) by Rina Kent

“Why do you never cry, Frozen?” he asks with an almost gentle tone.

I want to tell him I do cry, just not in front of him or any of his bully minions, but I keep that information to myself.

If I get worked up around him, it’s game over.

“These eyes should be filled with fucking tears.”

“Aiden, seriously, what the hell is your problem?”

“Cry and I’ll let you go.” He deadpans. “You have to be convincing, though.”

My lips part. Is he serious?

“I won’t cry.”

He tightens his grip on my sex, and I whimper. Pain shoots through my core along with something else I don’t want to think about.

“Hmm. I’ll be generous and give you the right for two moves. Either cry or we can stand here all day and I’ll see how far I can take your sexual assault report.”

I look over his shoulder, desperately trying to find anyone. But I should’ve known better. Kim purposefully chooses this place because no one wanders this far in the back garden.

When I stare back at Aiden, he’s watching me with a strange mixture of emotions. Interest? Curiosity? Hate? I don’t know what it is, but I need this freaking psychopath as far away from me as possible.

If crying will push him away then so be it.

“Do you need me to count to three?” he asks.

“Tears don’t come on demand.” I can’t help but snap. I’m too angry and flustered to just cry.

“Let me help.” Still gripping my core, he uses my bound hands to push me back until my breasts thrust in his face.

He glares at the scar as if it’s a person he loathes.

“This should’ve killed you.” His warm breath tickles against my skin and goosebumps erupt in its wake. “You should’ve died, Frozen.”

My nose tingles and pressure builds behind my eyes.

With a few words, he thrust me back to my child-self. To the fear. The helplessness. The unknown.

He’s right. That heart surgery almost killed me. But that’s not the reason behind my unshed tears.

It’s the memories surrounding the surgery — or the lack thereof.

The reason I hate the scar so much isn’t because of the surgery or the non-aesthetic appearance.

It’s because the scar is a reminder that everything before it is blank.

All I have left are nightmares and phobias and a distant reminder that I once had parents.

The scar represents that missing part of me.

Before I can try to seal those emotions into their dark box, Aiden bites on the flesh of my breast. I cry out as his teeth sink into the skin and then he sucks and bites along the scar with such animosity that leaves me breathless.

And terrified.

It’s like he wants to bite the skin off.

Unleash those memories.

The nightmares.

The smoke and the flames.

And the blood… so much fucking blood.

“Aiden, s-stop.”

He doesn’t.

He continues feasting on my skin like he’s a cannibal.

Everything will be out.

All of it.

This can’t be happening.

“Stop!” My lips tremble as tears fall down my cheeks.

Aiden lifts his head. He stares at my face, at my tears, and the expression of hate that must be written all over my face.

His features are expressionless.

Closed.

Impassive.

“Good girl.”

He finally lets me go. The space between my legs feels kind of strange when he removes his hand. My shoulders ache from how he locked my wrists behind my back.

I expected him to step back and leave me be.

But Aiden never acts like you expect him to.

His upper body leans over and he darts his tongue out.

Aiden licks the tears falling down my right cheek. My skin turns hot and cold at the same time.

He moves to the left cheek, taking his time in tasting my tears.

When he pulls back, he doesn’t appear as shocked as I feel.

However, his devil mask slips.

I get my first glimpse at the real Aiden.

The one he hides behind the smiles. The true form.

If the smirk on his face and the manic look in his eyes are any indication, then the fucking psycho enjoyed licking my tears.

A phone rings, startling me out of my stupor.

He checks it and sighs like someone is ruining his fun.

He gives me one last, unreadable look. “Be smart and stop making stupid moves.”

More tears continue falling down my cheeks as I watch his stupid tall frame disappear behind the trees.

I turn in the opposite direction and run.





Chapter Five





Running in the rain steals my breath.

Ruins it.

Smashes it.

Nearly eradicates it.

When I arrive home, my soaked clothes are stuck to my skin. My shoes are slouching. My toes are cold and stiff.

Erratic strands of my hair stick to my temples and forehead, dripping all over me.

I stand in our small garden, catching my breath, and press a shaky palm to my chest.

My heart’s palpitations grow uneven and out of beat as if protesting. I close my eyes and tip my head back, letting the rain beat down on me.

Soak me.

Rinse me.

The droplets pound on my closed lids almost like a soothing caress.

I’ve always loved the rain.

The rain camouflaged everything.