Deviant King (Royal Elite #1) by Rina Kent

Aiden doesn’t stop when murmurs break whenever we walk.

He doesn’t stop when his teammates howl behind us.

His steps are confident and sure while his fingers continue drawing circles down my back.

I want to think it’s an endearing touch, but that’s not how Aiden works, is it? He doesn’t do endearing. Possessiveness suits him better.

The entire school just watched us tonguing each other and all I can think about is the meaning behind the tiny circles.

Truth is, I couldn’t care less about the audience.

All my senses are filled with Aiden. His height. His muscles that might as well be made from granite. The effortless and sure way he holds me.

His strength always had me in knots. There’s something about the way he carries me that’s all… male.

And his scent. His damn, clean, addictive scent.

With my head hidden in the crook of his neck, I can’t resist the urge to inhale him in and safeguard his scent to memory.

A door clicks then closes and Aiden stops. It’s my cue to lift my head. I release a breath when I make out a simple, non-characteristic room that must be for guests. There’s a medium-sized bed, a nightstand and a cupboard. Floral wallpaper covers the walls.

It reminds me of… home.

Not my home with Aunt and Uncle, but my actual home in Birmingham.

That’s such a disturbing thought.

I don’t remember home and I don’t want to.

My attention drifts back to Aiden who’s been watching me intently.

Since the beginning of this year, he’s been having this slight draw in his thick brows. It’s like he’s cracking a mathematical problem or a cyber code.

The brief show of humanity disappears and the poker face takes over.

It’s then I realise that I’ve been holding him like a vice.

Worse. We’re alone in a room and he’s blocking the only exit.

I attempt to scramble down his body, but his lethal hold tightens around my midsection.

“Ow. That hurts!” I push at his chest.

“Then stay still.”

“Ugh. Let me go, Aiden!”

“Why? You came here for me, didn’t you?”

The arrogance of this bastard. “You wish, arsehole.”

“Then who did you come for, hmm?” His eyes spark, and it pisses me off.

He pisses me off.

And apparently, I’m vindictive as hell because I give him a taunting smile. “Who do you think? I came for my boyfriend Xander.”

His eyes darken, but he smiles in a chilling, horror film kind of way. “Repeat that.”

I gulp, and the sound crackles in the burning tension in the air.

“Go ahead, sweetheart. I dare you to say that again.”

I shouldn’t.

Considering the murderous energy swirling around him, I should cut my losses short and shut up.

I must be out of my mind because I say, “My boyfriend Xander. He must be looking —”

It happens so fast, I barely register it.

Aiden throws me on the bed and crawls atop of me. My breath hitches when I make out the crazed look in his eyes. It’s as if someone turned the switch on.

I turned the switch on.

I lie beneath his looming body. His shoulders strain against the cloth of his T-shirt and he’s breathing heavily as if he’s coming down from a run.

I clench my thighs together not wanting him to see the overwhelming affect he has on me.

Because at this moment when he’s all threatening and scary, I don’t see the danger.

I should see the danger.

Instead, I’m searching behind that danger, thirsting to dig my claws in him and rip open the poker face to peek behind it.

I’m almost sure I’ll find a monster, but I still want to see it anyway.

I still want to see what he’s made of. Why he’s made this way.

His hand reaches for my face. I swallow as he traces a sensual finger down my cheek. It’s meant to be soft, but all I see is the darkness lurking beneath the surface.

I crave it. I want him to unleash it.

If he’s sick and I want his sickness, what does it make me?

“Seems that night in the rain did you no good.” His voice is too calm as he pinches my cheek. “I told you, sweetheart. You’re already mine, so stop acting otherwise.”

“I’m not yours.”

“Being mine is a fact, not an option. I don’t give a fuck if you embrace it or fight it in front of me.” He nuzzles his nose over my cheek. “But I’m done giving you freedom. You don’t get to act like you don’t belong to me.”

“Or what?”

He shakes his head. “You don’t want to know that.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Be mine and you become the queen on my board.” He pauses and flicks his tongue to lick my lower lip. “Fight and you’ll remain a pawn.”

Something bubbles to my throat and I can’t swallow past it. He’s fuming.

No. He’s enraged.

To another person, this version of Aiden would appear normal, soft even, but Aiden is the type who hides his anger beneath layers of calmness.

To say I’m not scared would be a lie, but I got past the blinding fear stage. Now, I’m able to see past the fear to his obsession with me. The way he seems so physically intent to possess me. I see the spark.