Black Knight (Royal Elite #4) by Rina Kent

“She’s not.”

That’s the first time I ever heard Ronan say something remotely bad about anyone. He doesn’t even call Silver and her minions bitches, even when they act like it.

“What did Teal do to you?”

“Nothing.” He grins at me. “Yet. But she has psychotic tendencies and I need my balls.”

“Threatened, Ro?”

“Moi?” He feigns offence.

“Yes, toi.” I poke his stomach and he tickles me on my sensitive side.

We laugh as he pretends to growl, coming after my ticklish spot. I knew he’d focus on weaknesses, he just doesn’t like to show his cards upfront.

My stomach hurts with the amount of laughing while I try to push him away. Even though Ronan appears harmless, he’s still big, and I’m helpless in front of his sheer size.

All my swats fall unnoticed as he tickles me until I’m breathless and gasping with laughter.

I don’t feel it happen until I see it.

One moment Ronan and I are struggling, him pinning me to the bench, and the next, his entire presence is wrenched off me.

I shriek as Xander throws Ronan to the ground.

His eyes are red, face bloodied, and he looks ready to finish lives.





13





Xander





War.

They call me that for a reason.

Wars start for a trivial cause, but they have sinister undertones. Wars are made to destroy.

Wars are the reason for death, not the other way around.

Death goes down. War remains.

My mind is bleached white as I land on Ronan, straddling his stomach. I clutch him by the collar and drive my fist straight to his face.

He had the audacity to hug her, push her against the bench, and touch her as if he has every right to.

There’s that inner voice, telling me not to show my cards this clearly, but that voice is turning dimmer by the days.

I couldn’t stop this need to wreak havoc if I tried.

It’s been a long fucking time without a war, and wars need to happen to purge people.

Wars need to happen to Death, and now, he needs to fucking bleed.

He smirks up at me as I crush my fist into his face, but he doesn’t try to fight me off, not that he can when I’m on such an adrenaline high.

A voice calls from my right, startled and soft. Somewhere at the back of my mind, I recognise it’s her, but I don’t focus on it. I don’t stop to see her or hear the same voice she used to giggle at him.

My next punch is stronger than the previous one, and Ronan’s head to lolls to the side.

“Someone is losing it.” Ronan licks the corner of his bloodied mouth. “Got a problem, mon ami?”

I punch him again, causing his words to stop where they started.

Doesn’t matter that I spent most of the night and morning fighting with thugs or that a few bruises in my body hurt like a fucker. I’m going to finish this day with an epic finale – like this bastard’s death.

“Stop it!” A slender hand wraps around my bicep, forcing me back with a shove.

It’s not that strong, but her touch is.

The feel of her fingers on my skin, separated only by my shirt, is like water dousing my fire.

The blurry lines from earlier and the black haze slowly dissipate when her face comes into view.

She’s staring at me with those huge green eyes that have never left my head, not since yesterday, not since a century ago.

Her lips part in stupefaction – or worry, I don’t know which. All I can think about is how I feasted on those lips, how they felt beneath my teeth and against my tongue.

How I tasted her, like I secretly fantasised for years, and how that single taste has opened Pandora’s fucking box, unleashed the devil’s minions, and even the jinn that Ahmed used to tell me stories about.

Because now, I’m hit by the need to taste her again, and this time, I don’t want to stop – or finish.

I want to free fall to hell.

Fuck me.

I went to fight so I could purge these thoughts, but they just keep magnifying. Her view isn’t helping either. It’s like a storm, and I’m only destined to fall, to sin, to bloody perish.

“What the hell are you doing?” she shrieks, staring at the blood oozing from Ronan’s lips. “Are you crazy?”

Yup. Totally am. Otherwise, none of this would’ve happened.

A mistake.

It was all because of alcohol.

I can tell myself that all day, but making my brain believe it is a different story altogether.

That thing is starting to hate me for the amount of rubbish I pour in it on a daily basis.

Mutual, mate.

Kimberly pushes me away with ease – actually, no. All she has to do is use her hold on my arm and I’m out of the way as if I was never there.

Just a touch, I tell myself. One single touch.

I rise to my feet, guided by her hands around my biceps. Her hands are on me.

Hands. On. Me.

Fuck, why does that feel so good? And surreal.

And fucking wrong.

She releases me just as fast. The lack of contact is like being thirsty and given water so it can be taken away at the last second. Her attention falls on Ronan and she helps him up.

The beast inside me roars back to life as he grins down on her with an expression so pure, it stabs me a hundred times all at once.

I lunge at him again, and he smiles defiantly, not even attempting to cover his face. Kimberly moves in front of him, making me stop in my tracks.