by Callie Rose
I didn’t speak to Jacqueline again the rest of the time I was at the house, and the next morning, she came to the front door to see me off as usual. She smiled and told me to be good, congratulated me on my midterm grades, and staunchly ignored the fact that she’d crushed my heart the previous night.
Maybe she thought if she didn’t mention it, I’d forget about it.
But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.
I had never seriously considered a career in dance because I’d been too busy struggling to get by, with no end in sight. But now, I finally had the chance to make a real go of it.
Resolving not to let her stop me from pursuing my dream, I doubled down on my training. My legs were getting stronger and stronger, and in addition to the hour-long practice sessions during gym class, I started practicing after class whenever I could and sneaking into the studio on the weekends. It took time away from studying, but I didn’t care. I wanted this.
Truthfully, I was reaching the point where I needed to be working with a teacher again, with other dancers—people who could push my technique and bring me to the next level.
Once summer rolls around, maybe I’ll see if I can find a studio in Roseland.
I’d sneak there if I had too, and pick up a job to pay for it myself. If I earned my own money, Jacqueline couldn’t tell me how to spend it.
In the two weeks following spring break, I made a few more attempts to hang out with Leah, but she blew me off.
I knew it was because she felt like I’d blown her off first—which I sort of had, even if I’d never meant to. But maybe it wasn’t just about me. She’d started hanging out with a guy named Trey who was good friends with Dan. Maggie and Dan were officially boyfriend/girlfriend now, and it seemed like the four of them spent a lot of time together, doing couple-y things and going on double dates.
Things between me and the Princes settled back to normal—if anything between us from the first second we’d met could ever be considered normal—and we never mentioned what’d happened at the lake house.
Adena’s fury at me hadn’t faded. If anything, it’d gotten worse. I heard from a few girls in the locker room that she’d been planning to try to get back together with Mason over spring break. She’d apparently had an elaborate multi-step plan all set up to lure him back, but my presence had derailed it, and she was livid about that.
God, I hope she’s not at the party tonight.
I knew it was wishful thinking though. Adena was almost as powerful as the Princes, and was one of the few people on campus who didn’t automatically fall in line with their orders.
I grimaced at the thought as I hiked across campus on a sunny afternoon in late March. It was a Thursday, and the monthly Clarendon Hall blowout would be starting in a few hours. I’d volunteered to help the guys set up, but Mason had just chuckled and said they had people to do that for them.
He really could be a pompous asshole sometimes.
I shook my head, brushing my hair over my shoulder as I headed toward their dorm. Having gotten a glimpse of the softer, sweeter side to each of the guys, I could never quite understand why they insisted on presenting themselves as such douches to the world. They were more than that—they could be so much better than that.
Cliff Seaborn held the door for me, allowing me into the Clarendon Hall common room. I was a familiar sight in the dorm by now, and considering how completely the Princes ruled around here, no one ever bitched about my presence.
“Thanks, Cliff.” I smiled at him.
“Yeah, sure. See you at the party later?”
“Yup, I’ll be there.”
He split off to head to his room, and I climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, using the opportunity to get in a little extra leg work. The guys’ dorms were all next to each other, and I’d decided that even though they had “people” handling the party setup, I’d stop by early.
Cole’s door was open just a crack, and I could hear their voices emanating from inside.
“That’s perfect,” Mason murmured.
“I know.” Cole’s voice had that blank, detached tone it sometimes got.
“Is it enough, though?” That was Finn.
“No,” Mason answered. “But we’ll get it.”
My stomach dipped. Shit. What were they planning now?
I hesitated for a second before knocking on the door and pushing it open. “Hey, guys?’
They were clustered around the couch in the living room, where Cole had his laptop open. They all looked up as I entered, grinning broadly.
“Hey, Legs. What are you doing here?” Finn stood as Cole flipped the laptop closed and set it on the sofa cushion beside him.
“Just thought I’d be unfashionably early. What are you guys doing?” I tried to keep the accusatory tone out of my voice, but I must’ve failed miserably, because Mason smirked, sauntering over to drape an arm across my shoulders.
“Remember Evan Baxter’s dad?”
I grimaced. “How could I forget?”
“Well, we had another situation like that. Just taking care of some family business.”
“So what are you gonna do?”
He tilted his head, leading me toward the couch. “We’re not sure yet. We’ve got ideas, but we’re still digging for more dirt.”
I sighed, sinking down next to Elijah. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard the expression ‘live and let live’?”
His answering grin was feral. “Princess, in our world, that’s how predators become prey.” He chuckled, moving Cole’s laptop farther down the couch so he could sit too. “And I told you. We’ve got people handling the party prep. Which means you’re stuck hanging out with us for the next few hours.”
“Ugh. That sounds awful,” I teased, and he squeezed my knee, making me yelp and jump.
We settled into an easy conversation about our summer plans, Finn promising he’d take me somewhere and teach me to surf, and Elijah insisting he’d be a better teacher, but my gaze drifted back to the laptop as we spoke.
This wasn’t the first time the Princes had set out to sabotage someone they felt had wronged them in some way. They’d done shit like this all year—hell, they’d done it to me for an entire semester—and it didn’t sit right with me.
It was hard to find any way to defend Evan Baxter’s dad, but I still wasn’t sure if that justified what they’d done to him. They’d ruined his career and reputation, and even though he’d arguably deserved it, why did they have to be the ones to mete out his karma? Who’d put them in charge of that?
It was like a serial killer who only kills bad guys. An extremely gray moral area.
But maybe…
Maybe it was possible for them to change. After all, they’d changed their behavior toward me. They even seemed to like me now. Maybe now that we were becoming friends, I could help talk them out of the crazier schemes they hatched.
Mason had insisted I was a Royal now, just like them.
I had the same power and privilege they did.
So maybe I could use my power for something good.
Chapter 24
Adena did come to the Clarendon Hall party, and the second her gaze zeroed on me surrounded by the four Princes, something like a snarl twisted her lips. She waited for the perfect opportunity, and as soon as she saw an opening, she took it, pretending to bump into me so she could spill a Solo cup full of red wine all over my pale yellow dress.
She apologized in a falsely sweet voice, but I just shoved past her and walked out, sick to death of her bullshit. Elijah caught up to me on the way back to my dorm and convinced me to come back to the party after I changed clothes—and by the time we returned to Clarendon, Adena was nowhere to be seen.
I should’ve known she wouldn’t let it lie, though.
Things were fine for two weeks, peaceful even. And then the peace broke in the blink of an eye.
If my mind hadn’t been occupied with thoughts of my latest argument with my grandparents, maybe I would’ve seen he
r coming. Then again, I’d started to get so comfortable on campus in the past three months that I never expected to get jumped walking to my dorm.
I was rounding the corner of Hammond Hall when something hit me in the face. It was broad and thick, and it caught me flat across the cheek, sending me stumbling sideways as pain exploded through my head.
Rough hands grabbed me, yanking me upright, and I caught sight of Sable and Veronica, two of Adena’s most ardent worshippers, before the queen bitch herself swung her textbook at my face again.
It caught my other cheek, harder than her fists would’ve been, and stars danced in my eyes as I stumbled the other way, fighting to stay on my feet.
The hands shoved at me again, pushing me until my backpack overbalanced my weight and I fell to the ground. A flurry of feet and fists rained down on me, and I covered my face with my hands, screaming as I kicked out as hard as I could. I caught someone’s leg, and they gave a pained yelp, but a second later, a foot connected with my abdomen, making me curl up into a ball.
More fists.
More feet.
I was disoriented, still in shock as I tried to protect myself. My mind hadn’t quite caught up to what was happening, couldn’t process the sudden shift in my situation.
A minute ago, I’d been fine.
Now I was under attack.
Memories of my father’s beatings flooded my mind, making panic flare in my chest. As the blows rained down, all the time that’d passed since my dad had died vanished, and I was back in our tiny little kitchen, curled up in a ball to protect myself from his large fists, his rancid cigarette breath, his slurred insults.
“That’s good enough. Leave her. Let’s go, let’s go!”
Adena’s sharp voice cut through the noise, and I lifted my hands from my face just enough to see her standing over me, a twisted smile on her face.
“Maybe this’ll make you think twice about stealing what doesn’t belong to you, whore,” she hissed, her eyes narrowed to slits. She kicked me one more time, then she and the other girls turned strode quickly away.
I dropped my head, resting my face on the cool grass for several moments as I tried to catch my breath. My ribs ached, my face hurt, and my mind reeled.
My backpack had been yanked off, and I slowly pressed up to my hands and knees and crawled over to it, shoving the scattered books and papers back inside. My uniform was smeared with dirt and grass stains, and little splatters of red decorated my sleeves. I lifted my fingers to my face, dabbing at the wetness leaking from my nose.
Blood.
“Talia?”
The voice was so heartbreakingly familiar it made me want to cry. I didn’t want any of the Princes to see me like this, but at the same time, relief flooded me as Elijah knelt by my side.
“Oh fuck. Talia. Are you okay?”
I nodded dazedly as his hands moved over me, wincing when they brushed across my cheekbones. “Yeah.”
“What happened?”
“Adena.”
“What? Are you fucking serious?”
His voice took on a harder edge than I’d ever heard from him. His tone was usually smooth and lyrical, which, having heard him sing, didn’t surprise me. The darkness in his voice now was the kind I usually heard from Mason or Cole, the kind that would send sane people running for the hills.
Then he shoved a hand through his hair, refocusing on me.
“Shit. Here.”
He helped me up before gathering my backpack and slinging it over his own shoulder. I leaned on him, and he let me walk slowly as we moved toward the Wastelands. When we got there, he dug into my bag for my key card and unlocked the door.
Inside my room, he deposited me on the couch and then disappeared into the bathroom for a second, returning with the first aid kit I’d used on Cole after the fight. He used several tissues to blot the blood coming from my nose, biting his lip in concentration as he worked.
I watched him, my mind still blank with shock.
I’d been pushed and shoved last semester and had a paintball rigged to shoot out of my locker, but I’d never been jumped like that. My heart was still beating sluggishly and unevenly, a sick feeling twisting in the pit of my stomach. It wasn’t just the physical pain. It was the memories it’d unleashed, like poison seeping through my bloodstream.
When Elijah dabbed at the bruise on the side of my face, I hissed a pained breath, and he winced.
“Shit. I’m sorry, Tal. I really didn’t think Adena would take it this far. I don’t think any of us did. She’s probably fucking pissed because Mason told her at the party that they were over, over. That he never wants to get back together with her. She’s been gunning for him since the first fucking day she got here.”
My heart stuttered at his words, something warm and dangerous worming its way through my chest. He’d told her it was over.
That shouldn’t mean anything to me, but it did.
“God, that bitch.” Elijah shook his head, looking angrier than I’d ever seen him. “She attacked you to hurt Mason.”
“Why would—” I winced again as he touched my other cheek. “Why would attacking me hurt Mason? Does she think he’ll get blamed for it? He won’t. I’ll tell Dean Levy it wasn’t him—I was there, I saw her. Her, Sable, Veronica, and a few others.”
He set down the tissues he’d been using to clean my face, shaking his head with a grimace. “No, Legs. That’s not what I meant. She thought it would hurt Mason because…”
His voice died out, and he swallowed hard.
I blinked at him, trying to decipher the look on his face. He looked almost… sad.
“What?” I whispered. “Elijah, what?”
He sat back, scrubbing his hands over his face roughly. Something was agitating him, but I couldn’t quite figure out what it was. My brain felt like it was on a half-second delay, the pain in my temples pounding in time to my heartbeat.
Elijah had always been a little bit of an enigma to me. He was perfectly put together and looked like he belonged in a suit and tie, but had a messy dorm room covered in rock band paraphernalia. He could sing and play guitar like a god, but apparently he hardly ever did it anymore. He was quiet and almost withdrawn sometimes, but the ink on his back practically screamed with raw emotion. It was almost like he was two people trapped inside one body, and I had a feeling that the still waters of his calm, classic features ran very deep.
He’d been an asshole to me in the fall, just like the rest of the Princes, but there’d always been a little less bite to his taunts, a little less brutality to his treatment of me. Maybe that was why I felt the most comfortable with him out of all the four boys—the safest. When they’d dropped the bullying and inducted me into their “Royals club” at the beginning of the year, Elijah hadn’t had to do such a sharp one-eighty as some of the others had.
Cupping the side of my face gingerly, careful to avoid the bruise blossoming on my cheek, he let out a long breath.
“I’m sorry, Talia. I never meant for this to happen. It’s fucked up.”
My gaze was locked on his, drawn in by the tenderness and regret in his hazel irises. The boy in front of me was so far removed from the one who used to taunt me and stare me down as I walked by.
The boy in front of me cared.
“It’s okay, Elijah,” I whispered. “It’s not your fault.”
He didn’t seem to want to hear that though. He just shook his head, his thumb rubbing softly against my skin, as if he were trying to reassure himself that I was real. That I was still here, whole and intact.
A dozen emotions danced across his face, tightening his features. Something was churning under the still waters of his soul, and I could feel it bubbling up inside him.
“I’ve never met anyone like you before, Tal,” he murmured. “You shouldn’t be this good. After everything we did, you should hate us all.”
“I don’t.” I shrugged, because maybe he was right, and maybe it spoke to something entirely fucked up in my own
makeup, but a part of me had been drawn to the Princes even when they’d been cruel to me—had recognized them as fellow broken souls. “I can’t.”
His grip on my face stiffened slightly, and he swallowed hard.
Then he leaned in and kissed me.
I sucked in a sharp breath at the feel of his lips on mine. Like the beginning of our kiss at the lake house, this was slow and soft, lips just barely brushing, tongues slipping out tentatively to taste each other.
His hands ran through my hair, gripping it gently, tugging on it, and even though it hurt to move my face, the pain felt worth it for this moment. The sick feeling that’d been camped out in my stomach since Adena and her minions had attacked me died, leaving behind nothing but a pleasant warmth.
I felt safe now.
Safer than I’d ever been in my life.
We fell into the kiss like we’d been born to kiss each other, like peace and salvation could be found only in the connection between our lips. The need inside me built soft and steady, not a tsunami this time, but waves of pleasure lapping gently through me.
It didn’t block out the lingering pain from where Adena had hit me, but it counterbalanced it, the throbbing ache only highlighting the good feelings, as if this kiss was my reward for walking through fire.
Elijah’s phone buzzed, the sound puncturing the little bubble we’d slipped into.
At first, neither of us reacted, but when it buzzed again, he pulled back slightly, staring into my eyes before tugging his cell from his pocket with one hand. The other stayed on me, gently stroking through my hair as he read the incoming text.
“It’s Mason. I texted them all to tell them what happened. They’re coming up.”
Two seconds after he made that pronouncement, a loud banging sounded on my door.
“Or maybe they already are up,” I offered with a dry laugh.
He made a face and stood, finally disentangling his hand from my hair. Then he bent to press one more small kiss to my lips before he crossed the room to let them in.