by Eve, Jaymin
Playboy Princes
Royals of Arbon Academy
Tate James
Jaymin Eve
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
The Final Chapter…
Also by the authors:
Tate James & Jaymin Eve
Playboy Princes: Royals of Arbon Academy #2
Copyright © Jaymin Eve & Tate James 2020
All rights reserved
First published in 2020
Eve, Jaymin
James, Tate
Playboy Princes: Royals of Arbon Academy #2
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. All characters in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover: Tamara Kokic
Editing: Heather Long (content) and Jax Garren (line)
To self-isolation, for forcing our butts into office chairs so that this book would be here months early.
Chapter 1
The wet, heavy sound of my fist smacking into his face would have sickened a lesser woman. Me, though? It made me happy. Every crack of my knuckles into his flesh, every spray of deep red blood, every pained grunt and cry from his bruised throat.
I knew he was done. He’d been done ages ago, but I was toying with him. Dragging out the pain and using his broken body as my own personal rage therapy.
With every swing of my balled fist, every strike of my elbow, knee, and heel, those vile words burned through my brain. Over and fucking over.
Genetically superior babies.
Contracts signed.
Violet’s falling in love.
Fuck me. Fuck me and my stupid, childish, moronic naivety. How could I have trusted him?
Alex. Goddamn Alex.
I kept beating my pathetic excuse for an opponent as I pictured my vile boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—in his place. But physical violence like this was a stopgap. A coping mechanism. What Alex would get would have to be a thousand times worse than a few broken bones and some internal bleeding.
Hands grabbed at me, and I lashed out at them too. My mind was too far lost to rage, and I barely even registered what was happening until my feet left the floor and my thrashing body was slung over a broad shoulder.
“What the fuck?” I screamed, my voice hoarse. I must have been yelling while I whaled on that poor fool, not even noticing it. Fuck, I hoped I hadn’t said anything incriminating.
On the other hand, who gave a fucking shit? I sure as hell didn’t. Let them know exactly who Violet Rose Spencer really was. I hoped Alex would hear about the purple-clad fighter named Violence and feel some real fear.
The dark room around me blurred and my head spun. I was hanging upside down, my long bloody braid almost drooping low enough to brush the floor as someone—probably one of my well meaning friends—hauled me out of the fight arena.
“Let me down!” I demanded, smacking his back with bruised, aching hands. My blade was gone, and I had no recollection of dropping it. When had I decided that steel would make the fight too quick and resorted to my bare hands? I had no idea. But fuck, I needed to get it back. That blade had cost me more of my soul than I was willing to admit, and I couldn’t just let some punk snatch it.
The dickhead carrying me didn’t respond and sure as shit didn’t let me down like I asked. Instead he sped up until he was damn near running out of the fight arena and down a gloomy tunnel. He didn’t bother turning on his palm reader light or pause to check arrows, so he was clearly pretty familiar with the underground network that seemed to span the whole of freaking Arbon city.
I continued to rage for another few moments until a door slammed and I was abruptly dropped on my ass in the middle of a plush carpeted floor. By Rafe. I’d been carried—and dropped—by Rafe of all fucking people. He still had his mask on, but it was him. No doubt about it.
“Oh, boy.” I chuckled a dark laugh. “You seriously picked the wrong night to fuck with me, Prince Prickly.” I clambered halfway to my feet only to be shoved back down to the floor by a rough push to my shoulder.
“Shut up,” he snapped, tearing his mask off and glaring at me with those dangerously beautiful eyes of his. “I am this fucking close to losing my cool, Vi; you need to just shut up for two seconds.” He held his finger and thumb up to demonstrate how close, and I suspected they were less than a hairsbreadth apart.
Normally, I wouldn’t give two fucks what Rafe wanted, but something wasn’t stacking up. So I kept my fury bottled up inside while he paced the expensive, decorative carpet and ran his hands through his messy black hair, over and over.
I pulled my own purple mask off while I waited and tossed it on the carpet beside me.
“Are you done?” I snarked when he finally stopped pacing and turned to glare at me again. I hadn’t tried to move from where he’d shoved my ass onto the middle of the carpet. Not because he’d told me to—fuck that—but because seeing him so worked up and ragey when I was still hyped up on the adrenaline of my fight… well… I was woman enough to admit it was a major fucking turn on. I stayed put on my ass because I was dangerously close to jumping his bones.
Apparently my question hit a trigger for him, though, and his mouth dropped and his face twisted with disbelief. “Am I done?” he repeated, staring at me like I’d grown three heads. “Me? Am I done? That’s what you’re asking?”
I blinked up at him a couple times, confused at where this conversation was going. “Uh, yeah, that’s what I asked. You’re pacing like a caged wolf and looking all”—sexy—“murderous and shit.”
He just gaped at me, seemingly lost for words for the first time since ever. It didn’t last long.
“Are you fucking joking? You just almost killed that poor fuck out there! With your bare hands!” His eyes were pitch fucking black at this stage. “What the hell happened? Did you have some kind of psychotic break in the time between the game and fight?”
Guilt washed over me. I’d been so focused on channeling my rage I hadn’t given my opponent a second thought. At least, not past how I could inflict the maximum amount of damage and pain, all while picturing he was Alex.
Whoops.
Still, there was no way in hell I’d be apologizing or explaining myself to my biggest tormentor at Arbon Academy.
I arched a brow at him and held steady eye contact. “Is killing aga
inst the rules in these fights? I didn’t get a handbook.”
If anything, his eyes just bugged out wider before a carefully neutral expression closed over his face. “It’s not,” Rafe admitted from behind clenched teeth, “but it creates a hell of a lot of trouble and the winner is required to clean up their own mess. I seriously doubt you’ve made the necessary connections here to handle a body disposal. Nor could you afford it.”
Ah yep, there he was. Arrogant, entitled prick.
He did kind of have a point, though. Body disposals were expensive, so I generally avoided killing my opponents to save my measly cash reserves.
“What do you care?” I snarled, not ready to calm down anytime soon. Beating the shit out of a nameless, faceless opponent had tempered my rage somewhat, but I was far from done. If Rafe wanted to fight, so fucking be it.
The cruelty in his glare as he curled his lip in a sneer said everything I needed to know. He wanted a real fight just as bad as I did.
“I don’t,” he spat back at me. “I’d have happily left you there to deal with your own mess. There would have been plenty of sleezebags willing to trade a cleanup for something other than cash, and I bet you’re no stranger to that kind of trade.”
Oh. Did he just call me a whore? That was cute.
Riding the manic high coursing through my veins, I laughed out loud. “Is that the best you’ve got, rich boy? Calling the orphan girl a whore? Oh, you’re so original. Remind me again how you’re managing to top your classes? It’s sure as shit not from your IQ.”
His brows dipped, and for a micro-second I saw through that infuriatingly blank face and spied outrage. But maybe that was my imagination.
“Listen, Cinderella, you—”
“Save it,” I cut him off, pushing myself back to my feet in an athletic flick of my hips. Okay, fine, I was showing off a bit. Sue me. “I need to get back there and find my blade. Unlike some I can’t just get a new weapon delivered to my door if I lose it.”
I made to push past him, but quickly found myself blocked by his huge body. Holy damn, he was big. Had I noticed that before? Ugh, I could see the edges of his ink curling up the side of his neck, peeking out of his black sweater. Why were the hot ones such awful bastards?
“You’re not going anywhere,” he growled, far too close for my liking. Despite not wanting to seem intimidated in any way, I took a step back. It was that or do something dumb, like sniff him.
Focusing on his words, not his body, I planted my fists on my hips. I ignored the still wet blood on them because it was all freaking over the rest of me too. “Oh yeah? You going to stop me, then?”
I had expected more of the same blank, bored stare from him—not the malicious smirk that pulled his lips up or the glitter of excitement in his eyes.
Oh shit.
“You’re damn right I am, Violence. Perhaps you were so lost in your bloodlust frenzy you didn’t notice, but the Swiss Guard found our tournament again. You’re not leaving here until Noles gets back with an all clear. Not that I particularly give a shit if you get executed for illegal use of weapons, but Mattie would have my balls for breakfast.” He lifted his chin and held my gaze with a clear challenge. “But if you want to fight me over it, I have no doubt I’ll win.”
Test my skills against the notorious Fallen Angel? Tempting. Oh so tempting.
I opened my mouth to tell him to give me his best shot, but my body took that opportunity to radiate pain and remind me of the fight I’d just been in the middle of. Yeah, I’d wiped the floor with that punk, but I hadn’t come off totally unscathed. In fact, I’d taken more hits than I normally would have because rage had made me blind to pain.
Damn it all to hell.
Damn Alex right to fucking hell.
“You want to tell me what has your panties in such a bunch you needed to beat that twat to death?” Rafe, observant as ever, seemed to sense where my thoughts had traveled.
Alex’s and Claudette’s voices still echoed through my head, and as badly as I wanted to offload all of that onto someone else, Rafe wasn’t that person. He’d just make fun of my naiveté for trusting Alex, and I was getting enough of that from myself.
“None of your business,” I snapped back, looking around me for the first time. “Where the hell did you bring me anyway?” We were in some kind of studio apartment, complete with a sitting area, kitchenette, three double beds, and an attached bathroom. I could just see the edge of the vanity through the open door. “Are we underground?” There were no windows, and the air had that slightly stale quality to it that suggested poor ventilation.
Rafe arched a brow, folding his arms over his chest and leaning his broad back against the door. What, did he think I was going to barge back there while Swiss Guards were hunting? Fuck that, I wasn’t an idiot.
“Yes,” he replied with a small incline of his head. “We’re safe here until the tunnels back to the academy are cleared.”
Okay… so we weren’t under the academy anymore. Interesting.
“And where is here?”
He gave a small shrug. “Just a safe location.” There was something cagey about the way he said that… and the three beds were tripping up the train of logic in my head.
“Is this where you guys bring girls for orgies?” My exclamation was just this side of shrill. But ew. So much ew. The idea of Rafe, Jordan, and Nolan having chicks down here was all kinds of… hot. Ugh, I mean... Fuck. “I can’t believe you brought me to your fuck pad.” I muttered it with disgust, and my skin crawled as I eyed the beds.
I told myself it was disgust, not arousal, but I was also a big old liar.
Rafe’s face may as well have been carved out of stone for all the emotion he showed. Damn him.
“You should clean up,” he suggested, nodding in the direction of the bathroom. “We could be here a while and it’d probably be best if no one saw you wandering around looking like that when we get the all clear.” He flickered his gaze down my purple catsuit, and I could swear there was heat in his stare that spoke of something a whole lot more than annoyance.
The contempt in his voice, though… it was like fanning a fire. All my previous fury bubbled back up inside me, and I wanted nothing more than to bring him to his knees. Figuratively and literally.
“You’re right,” I agreed, my terrible plan unfolding in my head like a poisoned flower. “I should get rid of the evidence.” Reaching up to my throat, I grasped the little zipper between my fingers and slid it all the way down to my navel. I had decent tits on the worst of days but there was something particularly awesome that an unzipped catsuit does for a girl’s, er, girls.
“What are you doing?” Rafe asked. His voice was neutral but his gaze was locked on my black lace bra.
Hah. Too easy.
“Taking my clothes off. Is that a problem for you?” I threaded enough blatant challenge into my words that it was flipping a switch in his brain. His nostrils flared ever so slightly, and his next breath was just that fraction quicker than the one before. I had him, hook, line, and sinker.
Rafe couldn’t back down from a challenge any more than I could. We were both damaged like that.
Letting a smug grin play across my lips—he wasn’t looking at my face anyway—I shrugged my catsuit off my shoulders and started peeling it down my legs. Underneath, I wore nothing but a black lace bra and thong—because catsuits were awful for panty lines—and I definitely heard Rafe’s breath catch when I bent over to unzip my boots and pull the whole lot off.
“Careful, Cinderella,” he growled, his voice dark and full of threat. “You’re playing one hell of a dangerous game. What would your boyfriend say?”
The word boyfriend was like a bucket of ice over my libido.
I straightened back up and scoffed. “I doubt he’d say much, seeing as he’s probably balls deep in your fiancée right now.”
A flicker of surprise crossed Rafe’s face, and he pulled his gaze away from my tits to stare at me in that intense way that s
ent shivers through me.
“So, you want to fuck his worst enemy to get back at him, huh?” He didn’t sound all that put out by the idea. Just curious. “You think that’ll make you feel better?”
I snorted a bitter laugh. “I think an orgasm from anyone who isn’t a two-faced backstabbing piece of shit would make me feel fucking amazing right now. If you’re not man enough to provide that, I can take care of it myself in the shower.” I shrugged and started toward the attached bathroom. “Or maybe Jordan can lend me a hand when he inevitably shows up here.”
Chapter 2
I’d made it all of five steps across the room before I was basically thrown onto the nearest bed.
A small squeak of fright slipped from my throat, but it quickly turned into a gasp as Rafe’s body pinned me down. He held both my wrists easily in one hand, restraining them against the comforter above my head, and I groaned at the bite of my many small injuries. My right arm was aching, and the smear of bright red on Rafe’s bicep told me I might be actively bleeding.
Fuck it. Not the first time I’d been cut in a match before, and it wouldn’t be the last.
“Don’t fucking push me, Vi,” the Swiss prince warned me. Or threatened me? I hoped it was a threat he intended to follow through on.
Doing the exact opposite of what he’d said, I pushed. In fact, I laughed. “You scared, Angel?”