Black Knight (Royal Elite #4) by Rina Kent

He and I are the same on so many levels. But I’m way worse because I’m fucked up in the head and need someone to stop my thoughts from going in that direction.

“Yo, fuckers.” I raise my bottle, making a show of my drunk state.

Cole’s at my face in a second, gripping me by the nape. He smiles at the others, but when his green eyes fall on mine, they turn deadly.

It’s weird how he has the same eye colour as her, but his hold no beauty at all. Hers can be the reason for my free fall to hell.

“Your eye colour is fucking ugly,” I say.

“What do you think you’re doing, Knight?” he asks with a harsh undertone. “We have a game tomorrow and you’re hammered.”

“Ronan knew and he didn’t stop me. If I’m going to the corner, send him with me, Captain.” I laugh, even though I meant to smile. That’s what happens when you’re drunk – you sort of lose control over your actions.

“Jesus.” He punches me across the face, but it’s not mean like what I hoped for. He’s only doing it to make me sober up.

It’s enough to fill my thoughts with pain instead of the hell trying to break loose in there.

“Go sober up.”

“Yes, Captain.” I grin.

“The bottle.” He extends his hand and I put it in there. “The fuck is wrong with you lately?”

“Your eyes,” I slur.

“My eyes?” I swear he’s smirking in one of the two versions standing in front of me.

“No, not your eyes. The colour. Fucking green.” I slap my palms against his cheeks, smushing his face with the motion. “Why green, though? Just why?”

“Are you going to kiss?” Aiden’s bored voice brings me out from my spiritual questioning.

My vision is slow as I turn towards him. He’s wrapping an arm around Elsa’s waist and tucking her to his side as if he’s ready to kidnap her out of here any second – which will probably happen. Her goth sister with a tendency for sarcasm, Teal, is standing by her side, wearing a T-shirt that reads, I don’t want to be here.

Then get out of the fucking door, sis.

Oh, wait. She won’t, because she’s a masochist like me.

Teal and Elsa are blushing as they watch me and Cole.

Aiden brings out his phone and directs it at us. “Let me commemorate the moment.”

That’s when I realise the position Cole and I are in. I’m grabbing him by the cheeks and he’s staring at me with a bored expression that matches Aiden’s.

“Any second now,” the latter says. “If this can help with your case at the human rights court of law, you have my blessing.”

“Mine, too.” Cole smirks. “I’ll take one for the team.”

“Fuck you both.” I shove Cole away.

I should bleach the colour of his eyes so this shit never happens again.

“Where’s Green?” I ask Elsa, who’s still watching me and Cole as if expecting the show to resume.

Seriously, as much as guys enjoy fantasising about girls together, I’m pretty sure girls fantasise about boys together, too. They’re just not as vocal about it.

That was the Sherlock in me. Now, he’s going to sleep.

Aiden and Cole exchange looks, smiling like two little psychos.

“Green?” Elsa repeats. “Who’s Green?”

Fuck. I said that out loud? I must be drunk out of my mind. I need to get the fuck out of here before I word vomit everything.

“Yeah, Knight.” Aiden feigns nonchalance. “Who’s Green?”

“I think I heard that name somewhere.” Cole taps his chin. “When we were young and –”

I punch him in the shoulder, cutting him off mid-sentence. The fucker is bored and out to destroy lives because of it.

There’s no way in shit I’ll be the next victim of his sociopathic boredom.

“I know where she is,” I whisper so only he can hear.

“She?” Cole repeats with a semi-serious tone.

“Yes, the she.” I raise an eyebrow. “She went with Ronan.”

And with that, I’m out of the scene.

People hit two birds with one stone, I hit three.

One, I made Cole shut the fuck up. Two, I escaped his and Aiden’s circle of sociopathic tendencies. Three, I directed his wrath towards that little bastard, Ronan.

I swear I come up with the best ideas when I’m drunk.

On my way out, I steal some boy’s cup of alcohol, down it, then steal another one.

They don’t even protest. No one attempts to put a brake on whatever the hell I’m spiralling into. No one dares to punch a minister’s son to teach him some sense.

Fuck you, Dad.

Somewhere along the way, I find myself heading to the garden. The music fades as the chill wraps around me, but instead of waking me up, it turns me a bit more drunk.

On the night, the stars, the fucking world.

You suck, world. You really, really suck.

I throw away the last cup and head to a small covered porch at the back. Kids don’t wander around the area because a) it’s cold, b) Ronan will skin them alive, and c) did I mention it’s fucking freezing.

So I’m surprised to find someone there. She’s dancing, earbuds in her ears and hair flying behind her.

Not someone.