Deviant King (Royal Elite #1) by Rina Kent

“And wear a sweater. It’s chilly outside.”

“Yes, Aunt,” I call from the doorway.

“Hurry back.”

Shoving my feet into flats, I throw a thin sweater over my black cotton dress on which is written ‘Comfy at Home’. It’s similar to an oversized T-shirt that stops at my knees.

The moment I’m out of the house, the first drops of rain hit my nose and lashes. I could’ve gone back for the umbrella, but I don’t.

Instead, I let my legs take reign.

I run down the empty, lit streets as hard and as fast as I can. The night’s chill slaps me across the face and the rain soaks me in seconds.

But it isn’t enough.

There’s a weight on my chest.

It’s suffocating.

It’s robbing me from any clean air.

Every breath I take feels dirty and impure.

I feel dirty and impure.

The only thing able to cleanse me is running and the rain.

Only… it doesn’t.

Images of Silver loosening up Aiden keep playing at the back of my mind like some porn.

That must be why he’s too busy to text me.

I close my eyes and try to purge the images out of my head.

Silver and Aiden are made for each other.

I don’t care about them and their after school activities.

But why ask me to be his if he already has someone to tend to his whims?

Dickhead.

Once I arrive at the grocery store, I buy some tampons and an umbrella. I would rather run back in the rain, but Aunt will give me grief about it.

Not to mention that my heart feels kind of funny. I won’t push it for no reason.

I’m around the corner to our house, carrying the grocery bag in one hand and the umbrella in the other when I notice a black Mercedes with tinted windows. I think it’s been there since the grocery store.

Panic grips my chest and I run the rest of the way home. I opt for the back entrance since it’s the closest.

The moment I round the corner, a strong hand clamps around my mouth. I shriek, the umbrella and the bag fall from my hands.

My scream is drowned by the hand on my mouth.

I’m hauled forward. I trip and my cheek smashes against the hood of a car. I recognise his smell before his hot breath whispers in my ear.

“Time to pay, sweetheart.”





Chapter Eighteen





“A-Aiden?”

My heart lunges in my chest, beating sporadically against the hood of the car.

His car.

The dim light coming from around the corner doesn’t allow me much vision, but I feel him.

It’s impossible not to when I smell his clean, unmistakable scent mingling with the rain.

The bottom of my stomach hurts with that strange awareness I always had for him.

That damn awareness is like an incurable disease refusing to leave my body.

I try to lift my head and look at him, but he smashes my cheek back down against the wet hood.

“What are you doing —”

He grabs a fistful of my hair harshly. “Shut the fuck up, Elsa.”

I whimper around the pain ripping at my skull and the uncomfortable position he’s forcing me into. The car’s cold, wet metal digs into my stomach the more I try to move.

When I open my mouth to say something, he pulls me up by my hair so I’m staring at his dark eyes.

His plain black T-shirt is soaked, sticking to his muscles like a second skin. The rain forms rivulets down his hard face, his strong jawline and the bump on his lips due to his fight with Xander.

He appears angry.

No. Lethal.

It could be because of the dark or the rain or the desolate streets, but a chill of terror spreads over my skin.

This is Aiden’s true form. The soulless, unfeeling psycho.

“Shh, not a fucking word.” His left eye twitches. “You don’t want to test me right now.”

My lips tremble and it’s not because of the cold or the rain.

“Aunt is just upstairs.” I try to threaten. “She’ll come down for me.”

His lips brush my ear as he whispers in a cruel voice, “Then why aren’t you screaming?”

Before I can think about that, he bites the shell of my ear. Hard. So hard that I think he’s after my flesh.

I shriek, but his hand clamps around my mouth, turning it into a muffled, haunted sound.

The type victims make when they’re kidnapped in the middle of the night.

“Do you like blood on your hands?” he asks with a dark, chilling tone.

My back snaps at the image.

Blood on my hands.

In my hair.

In my —

“If I killed Xan today, it would’ve been all because of you.”

I mumble against his hand, but he only pulls me harder by my hair. “Do you know that I feel murderous when someone touches you? Is that why you pulled that fucking stunt?”

I shake my head, tears rimming my eyes and mixing with the pouring rain.

God. He’s a psycho. A sick sonofabitch.

Then why am I not fighting?

Fucking fight, Elsa. You’re a fighter.

My limbs remain locked in place no matter how much I beg them to move.

“Answer me.”

I mumble an unintelligible sound. He’s blocking my mouth, how the hell am I supposed to answer?

“Scream or fight and I’ll fuck you raw against the car until the entire neighbourhood learns my name. Understood?”