Deviant King (Royal Elite #1) by Rina Kent

I glance at the secluded location. Although it has an ancient feel, the coffee shop isn’t on the main street. Only a few houses are nearby. This isn’t a poor neighbourhood per se, but it isn’t high end either.

“Why have we stopped here?” I face Aiden, but he’s already out of the car. He reaches my side and opens the door.

I gawk at him.

Did he just open the door for me?

Do devils do that?

Wait. Maybe he has a storage house around the corner to which he lures his victims and kills them in cold blood before he dissolves them with acid.

“Are you going to sit there all day?” He raises an eyebrow. “Would you rather I carry you inside, sweetheart?”

“We have school.”

“If you checked the school’s website, you would’ve seen the notice that Mr Bently will be absent today.”

I fish for my phone in my jacket’s pocket. Sure enough, on the students’ portal, it’s announced that our first class is cancelled.

I stare up at him. “You tricked me.”

“Hmm, did I?”

“You knew we don’t have class, but you ushered me out as if we’d be late.”

“We were going to be late.”

“For what?”

“You didn’t have breakfast so I’m buying you.”

“What makes you think I want to go anywhere with you?”

His poker face slips and the chilling, cold void takes its place. “I could’ve kidnapped you to a place where no one would find you. I’m being nice here, Frozen. I’m giving you a choice to have breakfast with me in a place full of people so you’re more comfortable.”

I finger the strap of my backpack with sweaty fingers. Although fear is locking my shoulder blades, I can now see past it to what Aiden is actually saying.

Kidnapping me is his first choice and nature. He wants to rob me of my will, he wants the thrill of seeing me at his mercy.

However, he’s forcing himself to make me comfortable.

Why?

I know for certain that he doesn’t care about the moral line or my comfort.

This must be another game.

Another mindfuck.

“You realise that this isn’t a choice, right?” I ask.

“Hmm. How so?”

“A choice is supposed to lead in different directions. Yours only leads back to you.”

A wolfish grin breaks on his stupidly handsome face. “It only leads back to me, huh?”

God. His way of repeating my words is infuriating and makes me want to slap him.

I swallow the urge down because now, I realise it’s his way to get a rise out of me.

“You’re manipulating me, Aiden.” I lift my chin. “I don’t like it when people manipulate me.”

“I’m manipulating you, huh?” He leans over, blocking the hint of the sun and the entire world with his frame. His voice drops to a whisper. “How does it feel to be manipulated, sweetheart?”

I swallow against the warmth rising up my throat. He can do it a thousand times, and I still wouldn’t get used to being this close to him.

His fresh scent.

His tousled jet black hair.

The small mole at the corner of his eye.

I find myself staring at that longer than I like to admit.

Winning a staring competition with Aiden has always been impossible. The bottom of my stomach always does this stupid shit as if something is slicing, cutting, and ripping it open from the inside.

Hate. This must be how extreme hate feels like.

It consumes and destroys you from the inside like a stage five cancer.

He pulls back as fast as he leaned down. I release a breath I didn’t realise I was holding.

“Kidnapping or breakfast in a coffee shop.” He deadpans. “What’s your move?”

No. It’s his move. Even when he provides options, he makes sure the outcome works in his favour.

This level of cunning can belong to the criminally insane, but Aiden isn’t just insane. He’s highly intelligent and he knows it.

Hell, he’s so assertive about it that it’s disturbing.

If he weren’t wealthy and young, what type of monster would he be?

Probably the century’s most notorious serial killer.

I hold the backpack to my chest like a shield and step out of the car. If I’m starting my dance with the devil, I might as well do it now.

Aiden offers me his golden boy smile as he locks his car.

I hate that smile.

It’s the fake one he gives to everyone else. I already had a glimpse of what he truly is, so he might as well stop the pretence around me.

Judging from the granite walls and the ancient feel the outside gives, I expected the coffee shop to be antique.

My expectations are smashed when we step inside.

The walls are covered in a pastel green wallpaper and the tables are in a smooth brownish colour. A few black and white motivational quotes hang from the ceilings.

The decor is soothing and the atmosphere is… cosy, to say the least.

A few patrons are scattered about, but Aiden doesn’t take any of the available tables. He places a hand at the small of my back. A weird awareness coils beneath my skin, and I flinch at the contact.

He guides me up hidden stairs with pastel green and white steps. There’s only a man facing the huge glass window.

He appears in his mid-forties, wears a crisp white shirt and reads from a newspaper while sipping from his coffee.