Deviant King (Royal Elite #1) by Rina Kent

“...everything is going to be alright…”

NO!

“Mama’s gonna buy you a little toy… and if that toy doesn’t work, Mama will bring you another one...”

No, no, no...

“You’ll never escape me, Elsa.”

“You’re my masterpiece, Elsa.”

“Elsa.”

“Elsa…”

“Elsa!”

They won’t have me.

Not again.

Never again.

I hit at his chest with both fists. His arms surround me, making me nauseous. I swore I’d never let him put his hands on me anymore.

Not again.

Not this time.

“Maaa!” I screech.

She can help me. She has to help me. That’s what mothers do, right? They save their children from them monsters.

“Ma, help —”

My voice and my breathing cut off.

I’m thrown into water. Dark, murky, bottomless water.

I gasp, but only water fills my throat, my lungs… all of me.

Thrashing, I try to surface, to find refuge from them monsters.

A hand holds my head underwater. It’s suffocating. It fills my nostrils, my mouth, and my frantic eyes.

I can’t breathe.

Please, Ma.

Please, Da.

P-please, help me.

Cold shocks my skin and my limbs turn numb.

I’m floating, drifting…

It’s useless to fight it.

Maybe the one who shall not be named fought it, too. Maybe that’s why his name isn’t spoken anymore.

Maybe I’ll be like him.

Through the foggy haze, someone calls my name with an edge to their voice.

He’s calling my name.

I won’t be like the one who shall not be named.

He knows my name.

“Can you see me behind them monsters?” I ask in my head.

“I do.”

I don’t think he does, but I hold on to that glimmer of a voice.

It’s soothing.

So soothing.

Maybe them monsters are invisible to him.

He sees me like no one did before.

He sees ME.



* * *



“Elsa!”

Like being hauled from the depth of an ocean, I gasp and my eyes pop open.

My vision is blurry and all I see are dark shadows. My heartbeat doesn’t calm, thinking I’m at that place again.

However, the arms surrounding me aren’t scary. If anything, they’re soothing. It’s like an escape I couldn’t find back then.

I blink the tears from my blurry vision. Furrowed dark features greet me. Strands of his dark hair fall on his forehead.

I blink once. Twice. He doesn’t disappear.

“A-Aiden?” My voice is so hoarse, I barely manage to get the words out.

“It’s okay.” He strokes my back in tiny circles. “You’re not alone. I’m here.”

I don’t know if it’s because of his words or because of the nightmares I just had.

I don’t care either.

My fingers curl into his T-shirt, my forehead falls against the hardness of his chest, and I let the tears loose.

Sobs wreck my chest, and I let it all out. I don’t even know what I’m crying about.

They were only nightmares. They aren’t real.

They can’t be real.

I curl further into Aiden’s lap and hold tighter onto him. He’s real. His warmth and the strange sense of security I feel in his arms is real.

The nightmares aren’t.

Aiden puts a hand under my bottom and pulls me onto him so I’m sitting on his lap. I wrap my legs around his waist, strangling him.

He doesn’t complain.

He remains silent, stroking my back, my hair and the side of my arm.

I couldn’t be more thankful for his calm, anchor-like presence. He’s here, but he’s not talking. He’s letting me deal with it on my own.

The last time I had an episode like this, strangely, two years ago right after my first day in RES, Aunt and Uncle freaked.

And I mean, they literally freaked.

I thought Aunt was with the monster and I hit her. I screamed and cursed at her. I didn’t stop until Uncle locked her out of the room.

When I regained my consciousness, Aunt wouldn’t stop asking me what I saw. She had a horrified sick look on her face like she was going to throw up. In the morning, they took me to Dr Khan and I had therapy sessions for almost six months.

Since then, I’ve been avoiding nightmares, or at least, the strong crippling ones that seem so… real.

For two years, I never bothered Aunt and Uncle with my nightmares even when I needed a shoulder to cry on. Even when what I saw — what I felt — scared the hell out of me.

It’s strange that Aiden, my tormentor and bully, fills the role no one did.

How can he be the shoulder I cry on?

Still gripping his T-shirt, I stare up at him. His brows are drawn together over the stormiest colour I’ve ever seen his eyes. His features are closed with deep concern.

My breath hitches.

Who thought there would be a day where Aiden King would be worried about me?

I should feel self-conscious for the ugly crying or hate the vulnerability I just showed him. Hell, my face must be chaos right now.

“Hey,” I say over hiccoughs.

His hand doesn’t stop caressing my back while his other hand lifts my chin. He searches my eyes as if looking for something.