Vicious Prince (Royal Elite #5) by Rina Kent

Time for my Teal.

I meant it earlier — there’ll be a lot of sessions for Ron Astor the Second. Okay, fine. Maybe I shouldn’t have named him in front of her, but I kind of lose control of my tongue when I’m with her — in different ways.

My phone vibrates. Eduard. Fucking again.

Eduard: If you know something and you’re not telling me, I might be inclined to think you don’t respect our deal, dear little nephew. It’s very unfortunate.

Fuck him and his fake posh behaviour and all of his existence, basically.

There was a moment in time where his existence was the reason I continued mine. Mum used to read me books about a witch who cast a spell on a prince and made him lose his memory, and with that, he forgot all about the princess he loved.

I told her I wished I could find the witch. She frowned, and I realised I’d said the wrong thing. It was a curse; I wasn’t supposed to wish to erase my memories, so I told her it was because I wanted to find her over and over again.

Mum was my princess. She was the reason I wanted that curse, because I thought if I forgot, I wouldn’t have those nightmares that made her stay up all night beside me.

I turn my phone off and climb into the driver’s seat, trying to regulate my breathing.

“Surprise.” Teal’s tentative voice wrenches my attention towards her.

She’s sitting in the passenger seat and has taken off the T-shirt dress. She’s now wearing the bunny outfit I keep in my wardrobe because I was plotting to have Kimberly wear it a long time ago.

The one-piece outfit moulds to her body, bringing attention to her cleavage, which is pushing against the material. Her thighs are bare, the thin strip of fabric glued to her pussy.

I always told the others I had this fantasy, and I did watch it on porn — don’t judge — but now that it’s real and Teal is wearing it, something in my chest fucking snaps.

It’s not a good snap.

My mood darkens and my heart beats so loud it’s the only thing I can hear in my ears.

“Oh, wait. I forgot.” She reaches into her bag, brings out bunny ears, and places them on her head. “Now it’s complete.”

Now it’s complete.

Now, it’s fucking complete.

Her face flashes back and forth as if it’s a ghost. Terror like I’ve only felt once in my life plays in my head over and over like a distorted film.

Manic laughter, drunk people, dark, so fucking dark and alone.

So alone.

Mother.

Father.

Help me.

“R-Ronan?”

“Remove it.”

“W-What?”

I grab her by the arm and rip the thing off her.

Her yelp and my groans fill the space, but all I can hear is that small child’s quiet sobs.

Help.

Help me.





27





Teal





The bunny outfit goes to shreds around my body, and for a second too long, I’m so stunned I can’t react.

I can’t react when the bunny ears break in two.

I can’t react when the cloth is ripped, revealing my breasts and my stomach and pooling around my waist.

The only thing I can look at is Ronan’s face, the way it’s blackening and nearly spiralling out of control.

It’s too similar to my phases.

It’s like one of those times where everything feels like too much — the world, the people, even the fucking air.

It’s too strong, too potent, and you can’t escape it no matter how much you try.

I run, but it follows.

I sleep, but it perches over me like a constant weight.

People say it’s just a phase and that it’ll eventually go away.

It doesn’t.

You breathe it in the air, drink it with water, and taste it with food.

It doesn’t only become a part of you — it is you. If you somehow managed to remove it, you wouldn’t recognise yourself anymore.

It’s not a fucking phase. It’s a state of being.

And sometimes, it acts out.

Sometimes, you can’t control it even with carefully developed coping mechanisms.

I never let anyone see me when it’s about to come out. I run and hide.

I purge.

The moment I feel it coming close, I just leave.

The only people who’ve seen me at my lowest are Knox and Ronan.

And now, I’m seeing him at his lowest, too.

The fact that I could be the cause of this creates a black hole in my chest.

What have I done?

The only reason I did this was because he always said it’s his fantasy. He begged Kim to wear it, and I was secretly green with envy whenever he asked that of her, and not me.

Today, I wanted it as a gift after his win. I never meant for it to turn into this.

His fingers stop at my sides. Both his hands grip me, his fingers digging into my flesh as he lowers his head, breathing harshly.

Damn it.

It’s the guilt. It’s catching up to him, and that shit fucks you up.

I know because even now, I feel it. Even now, I feel those hands digging their way into my skin.

“R-Ronan…” My voice trembles, and I hate myself for it.

I hate that I can’t be a solid rock for him like he was for me that night at the Meet Up and every night he spent with me, pretending he didn’t witness my nightmares.