Princes of Paradise: An Academy RH Bully Romance (M.A.G.E. (Magical Academy of Gods and Elementals) Series Book 1)

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Princes of Paradise: An Academy RH Bully Romance (M.A.G.E. (Magical Academy of Gods and Elementals) Series Book 1) Page 6

by Kailin Gow


  so sexy, even his insults heated me up.

  “Well, Mr. Cutter,” I said, swallowing down my

  annoyance. “I'm sure Nanny would think you behaved like

  an absolutely perfect gentleman last night.”

  “Nanny would know,” he grinned a cocky grin at me.

  “Father never bothered to visit me up at Eton, so it was really

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  just her outside of term-time. She used to make me scones,

  you know. Don't you just love scones, Miss Evers? I love

  wrapping my mouth on one, licking the cream off it, and

  swallowing cream.” His eyes burned into mine as he stared

  at my mouth.

  And with that, he turned on his heel and began to

  stride off.

  All at once, stupidly, I wanted to run after him, to talk

  to him again, to try and make a fresh start. He was after all,

  the son of my mother’s new boss. And Antonio Cutter did

  say he wanted me to try to become friends with Chance.

  “Wait!” I caught up to him, then stumbled a little and

  ended up in his arms. I felt again that same sizzling desire

  that had overtaken me last night.

  Chance noticed it too. His face – so much more

  painfully beautiful up close – was overtaken by shock.

  For one brief moment, the shock was enough for me

  to see the fleeting look of longing in his intense blue eyes as

  he took a rapid step back.

  “I have to go, Miss Evers.”

  And before I could say anything, shame and

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  embarrassment flooding over me, Chance vanished into the

  locker room.

  I was left standing there, my face flushed, and my

  heart pounding like the beat of the luau drum. I could

  remember the flames of last night flickering around Chance

  and I as we danced, encasing us in a curtain of red and orange

  warmth. There exist no barriers between us, just our raw

  emotions, as the beat of the dance carried on. At that

  moment, although I had just met him, I felt an eternity of

  love, loss, and passion flood through me. He infuriated me,

  but I still wanted him.

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  Chapter 6

  By the time I came home from school that evening,

  I was exhausted. I'd had five classes that day, and in that time

  my bookbag had been loaded down with textbooks upon

  textbooks, most of which were completely unfamiliar to me.

  Most of what I had learned at Angel High had been pretty

  basic – World History, Post-Erosion History, Math, English

  – but here the curriculum seemed to be completely different.

  Not only was there an entire class devoted to the Erosion

  Period – the decade during which the floods had transformed

  the massive continents of the world into scattered

  archipelagos – but indeed almost all the other classes were

  focused on Aeros itself, ignoring the rest of the world. We

  had one class just in Aeros History, and two in Mythologies

  of Aeros. It appeared that the local settlers of Aeros had

  worshiped what looked at first glance to be a mix of all the

  other pagan religions of which I'd read – Norse gods and

  traditional Polynesian ones were worshiped alongside

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  Ancient Greek and Roman gods; likely, the textbook said, as

  a result of traders from the Roman Empire getting

  shipwrecked and stranded on Aeros thousands of years ago,

  starting their own colony. It was interesting, to be sure, but

  as I looked at the books I had unloaded on my desk, my heart

  sank. Surely all the other students at Aeros Academy had

  grown up hearing about these myths and legends, grown up

  knowing who founded Aeros and when. But all that would

  be new to me. I didn't know Aeros from any of the other

  islands in the Pacific, except that it was pre-Erosion rather

  than Post – and I certainly didn't know anything about how

  the ancient Aerites worshiped the Roman god Neptune on

  the beaches where the Cutter Imperial now stood. Everyone,

  I felt, would be massively ahead of me – how would I ever

  catch up in time to put more A's on my transcript for college

  admissions? As I grudgingly started my homework, I was

  glad that tonight was a Friday night, and at the very least that

  I had two whole days before I'd have to present my work to

  my teachers. I had a report on Early Fire Cults due for

  Tuesday, two chapters of Aeros History and Culture to read

  and summarize, and a quiz on the economic impact of the

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  Early Erosion (2150-51) to prepare for on Monday. I no

  longer had to worry about making friends, I felt. I wouldn't

  have time for any, anyway!

  At least Chance was new, too. I sighed as his face

  came flickering back into my memory. I tried to put it out of

  my mind, but the questions kept coming back to me. Why

  had he treated me the way he had? What could he possibly

  have against me to make him so angry at me? And what had

  happened the other night at the party – the bonfire, the

  flames, that sizzling sense of connection? I knew from his

  expression today after gym class that he felt it too. From

  glimpses of him when he wasn’t trying to hate me, I could

  tell he wanted just as much as I did to give into our attraction,

  our desires. But then why did he treat me the way he did? I

  scowled at myself. I had never been one to let any boy treat

  me badly – my mother had always given me stern talking-

  tos about the dangers of mooning over crushes – but this felt

  different, somehow. This was more than just a crush. There

  was something I didn't know – something I had seen in

  Antonio Cutter's eyes when he talked to me about Chance,

  something to do with the bonfires and Chance's expulsion

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  from Eton and the Cutter Scholarship my mother hadn't told

  me about. Some secret that was being hidden from me.

  And I didn't like it.

  My mother came bustling in, her arms piled high

  with papers of her own. “Insurance quotes,” she rolled her

  eyes as she set the papers down on the kitchen table. “Honey,

  do you mind if we order in tonight? It's going to be a busy

  one for me. Some kid's having a pool party tomorrow – then

  we have a wedding and a Polynesian Trade Convention.”

  She sighed. “Or we could go over to the hotel. They have a

  restaurant. And I could talk to Antonio about whether it's

  possible to fit giant balloon animals in the main ballroom.”

  It was only a five-minute walk from our house, a

  small structure technically on Cutter property we had leased

  for the duration of her job. “I could go for some hotel food,”

  I said, remembering the taste of the fresh barbeque at the

  luau. Then I remembered that Chance was probably there.

  “On second thought,” I said. “Why don't we go for pizza?”

  “Honey,” my mother sighed. “I thought you lo
ved the

  hotel food. And I get free dinners there...”

  I knew my mother didn't like to spend money unless

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  she had to. I nodded and we grabbed our things. I loaded up

  my bookbag again, counting on finding a quiet place to work

  in the hotel.

  “That's some bookbag,” said my mother. “They

  working you hard at Aeros?”

  I shrugged, not wanting to admit my worry or

  troubles. As far as my mother was concerned, I was the

  perfect child – stress-free, self-sufficient. “Nothing I can't

  handle,” I said. My mother had a busy weekend; this wasn't

  the time to bother her.

  My mother beamed with pride. “That's my girl,” she

  said, patting me on the shoulder. “You make any friends

  today?”

  “Yeah,” I admitted. “There was this one girl in my

  wrestling class...”

  “Wrestling class?” My mother looked surprised.

  “Yeah – it was the only class left with free spots. But

  her name's Alice. She seemed nice. She lent me some spare

  gym clothes.” I neglected to mention that the clothes gave

  me the bust and rear end of a 1950's pinup girl.

  “That seems nice of her,” said my mother vaguely. I

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  knew the expression on her face. She was mentally

  crunching numbers for the weekend parties. I was tempted

  to ask her about the Cutter Scholarship, but I decided against

  it. From the look on my mother's face, now was not the time

  to have a serious conversation.

  We arrived at the hotel and my mother took up

  residence in her office, clearing away part of her desk for me

  to use. This is what we'd always done, she and I – I'd done

  my homework in some of the finest luxury hotels in the

  world. We ordered from the restaurant, my mother eagerly

  flashing her employee card, and set to work.

  No sooner had I gotten through the first chapter of

  Aeros history (“Pre-European Peoples in Aeros –

  Settlements and Structures.”) than I was interrupted by a

  knock on the door.

  “Come in,” my mother said, not looking up from her

  piles of work.

  Antonio opened the door, and my mother leaped to

  her feet.

  “Don't get up!” he said. “Relax!” His eyes fell on me.

  “Mackenzy! Just the person I wanted to see...” He laughed a

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  little. “Well, actually, I came to see your mother – but seeing

  you makes me think you might be a better bet.”

  “What is it?” my mother took off her glasses.

  “One of the servers for tonight's Bamford birthday

  just called in sick – and the rest of the staff is working on the

  Memberton Wedding on the other side of the complex.”

  “The Bamford birthday? But that was supposed to go

  off without a hitch – I confirmed their shifts this morning!”

  “Last-minute allergy,” Antonio sighed. “I don't

  normally handle the servers myself, but I ran into the girl

  throwing up in the corner of the pool house and she told me

  herself. Apparently she didn't realize the Polynesian rice dish

  we served for lunch contained peanuts...”

  “Oh, dear...” my mother said. “Do you want me to

  telephone the reserve list? I'm sure someone could fill in...”

  “Actually, I was wondering if Mackenzy might be up

  to the job,” said Antonio. “You'd be paid, of course,” he

  added quickly. “Server rates. And it might be a chance for

  you to meet some of the younger staffers here at the hotel –

  make some friends.”

  I thought of Varun and my heart leaped. I was eager

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  to see him again, I realized, even if he hadn't filled me with

  the same frustration that Chance had done.

  “Sure,” I said. “What time's the party?”

  “It's at six,” he said. “Nothing too onerous – just

  make sure none of the twelve-year-olds run off into the

  woods, call the caterer if pizza's running low, dodge the food

  fights, don' t burn yourself on the birthday candles. That sort

  of thing. Do you think that you can manage?”

  I thought once more of Chance.

  “Do I have time to go back home to change?” I asked

  my mother. This time, if I ran into either Chance or Varun, I

  wouldn't be caught wearing undersized booty shorts.

  I might even wear makeup.

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  Chapter 7

  I sprang across the lawn separating our cottage from

  the main hotel. I had torn upstairs, ransacked my closet for

  clothes, and done an emergency tweeze of my eyebrows. All

  actions that I'd never normally bother taking – but somehow

  tonight was different. If I ran into Chance again, I wanted

  him to know exactly what kind of mistake he was making by

  ignoring me. And if it took a little bit more mascara and a

  slightly tighter dress to do that, then I was willing to put in

  the effort. I caught a look at myself in the mirror and

  frowned. My painted face, my two-sizes-too-small dress I

  wore to the freshman dance – it didn't look like me. Some

  other girl – more polished, but somehow less original –

  stared back at me: a face that could have been any one of the

  meticulously clad girls in Haven's retinue. I sighed – clearly

  the over-the-top look just didn't work for me. I rolled my

  eyes and returned to the bathroom sink, scrubbing off the

  makeup and squeezing my way out of the old dress,

  changing into a light blue-and-gold summer dress with a

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  slightly vintage-looking skirt: one of my favorites. It may

  not have had the oomph power of the other dress, but I

  figured I'd rather be comfortable than try playing the part of

  a femme fatale if it meant being unable to fit a single slice of

  pizza into my constricted stomach.

  By this time, however, it was already almost six, and

  I realized with a flash of annoyance that I was running late.

  I rushed out of the house, barely even stopping to catch my

  breath, running as fast as I could over the lawns.

  I coughed and spluttered as I came to a stop by the

  front beach lawn, where the party was taking place. My

  cheeks were burning red from the effort – providing me with

  a warm glow more flattering than my attempts at sticking on

  blush had been. But I at last caught my breath and walked

  over to the party.

  Twenty or so twelve-year-old boys were in various

  stages of messiness, jumping in and around the enormous

  pool, resting on floats and swim noodle. A myriad of

  chocolate stains on their faces and trunks made it clear that

  they'd already had the first round of snacks; the smell of

  freshly-baked pizza wafted from the kitchen.

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  Varun was standing behind the large buffet table,

  wearing nothing
but a pair of swimming trunks. In the

  evening light, his muscles glistened more visibly than ever.

  He didn't look like Chance, to be sure – Chance's lithe,

  sinewy body was darker – but was nevertheless every bit as

  handsome. Good genes, I thought to myself, as Varun caught

  my eye and shot me a happy grin. “Looks like you're not

  tired of me yet, Mac! Or did you just come for the free pies?”

  “Hey, kids!” he called. “Who's ready for pizza? I hear

  that one lucky birthday boy is getting extra pepperoni and

  sausage. And a MONSTER-SIZED crust!” He had that rare

  talent of capturing kids' imaginations without ever

  condescending to them – and it was clear that the kids sensed

  it, too. One after the other, they all jumped up, shouting “Me!

  Me! Me!”

  “Okay, everyone. Jump in the shower then head

  through to the dining room. My buddy Brandon will be

  serving out the pies.”

  I was surprised at how easily they followed his

  directives. I'd never known twelve-year-old boys to be

  particularly good at following directions. But Varun's warm

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  voice and easy confidence seemed to inspire in them all a

  desire to please.

  “So, you ready to lead the activities after dinner?”

  Varun asked me as the last of the children filed past into the

  dining room. “I was thinking we could lead a game of Marco

  Polo, then water-tag. How does that sound?”

  I blushed, realizing my mistake. Everyone else was

  in swimming clothes – except me. In my rush to figure out

  what my most flattering outfit was, I had forgotten the most

  important part. “I – uh – I forgot my swimsuit,” I said,

 

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