by Kent, Rina
“You own this?” she asks.
“Technically, Aiden does. In reality, I do.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“A lot doesn’t.” I'm still ogling her tits and their gentle bounce every time she moves her hand up and down.
“Like you and your cousin? You guys are weird.”
“How so?” I ask absentmindedly.
Astrid finally follows my field of vision and crosses an arm over her chest as a blush creeps up her neck. “Pervert.”
Fuck me.
I never thought I would ever enjoy seeing a girl blushing, but Astrid is the exception to all rules.
She’s her own rule.
I smirk at the way she glares at me, but even her anger is cute when it’s mixed with embarrassment.
The princess can fight whatever we have all she wants, but I already set my sights on her. She can run, but I’ll catch her every time.
Hell, I’ll enjoy every minute of the chase, too.
There will be no escaping the king’s grasps in his kingdom.
The moment I saw that sorry fuck touch her, I saw black. The kind of black that Jonathan has been doing everything in his might to erase from my life.
But then, the most fascinating thing happened.
Astrid stood up to Jerry and put him in his place with such eloquence and strength that it turned me speechless. The pitch-black mood dissipated without me having to put any effort to stop it.
I don’t think she noticed it, but at that moment, she looked exactly like her father when he’s putting down his political enemies in the House of Lords.
What? I might have googled her and watched a few videos of her dad on YouTube.
“Why do you think Aiden and I are weird?” I ask, needing to keep her talking.
The way her lips roll around the words reminds me of how I claimed her mouth and how much I want to repeat it over and fucking over again.
Before I claim other parts of her.
Soon.
So soon.
“I don't know, I just feel it.” She buttons her jacket concealing my view of her tits. “You’re obviously the devil in disguise.”
“Why in disguise?”
“Because you appear perfect and gorgeous on the outside.”
“Perfect and gorgeous, huh?”
“That wasn’t a compliment. It only means that you’re not on the inside.”
“Still, you think I’m perfect and gorgeous, yeah?”
The slight blush creeping up her cheeks is all the answer I need.
“Whatever. You only look that way because you inherited some Vikings’ genes — which is super unfair by the way. I should’ve been the one who inherited some.”
“Why?”
“Mate! Have you seen them? They’re super badass.”
“You’re doing just fine without the Viking looks, princess.”
“Yeah, right.” She rolls her eyes. “Anyway, back to you and your cousin. You’re the devil and Aiden seems suspiciously too normal.”
I laugh, my head tipping back. “If you think I'm the devil, you should search for a higher position for Aiden.”
She mulls my words over in that busy head of hers. “Does it run in the family? Being abnormal, I mean.”
My jaw clenches, but I mask my reaction and smile. “Sure thing. If it makes you sleep better at night to know we’re all defected, then go right ahead.”
“You don't have to be a dick about it.” She stands, throwing the towel to the side. “I'm trying to figure out why Dad hates you guys so much when he thinks all those negative emotions are beneath him.”
“Maybe Lord Clifford isn’t such a saint after all.”
She lifts her chin. “Or maybe your family wronged him. I witnessed first hand how cruel a King can be.”
Jonathan is the type who destroys anyone who crosses him. It’s weird that he’s choosing to remain tight lipped about his grudge against Lord Clifford.
“Take me home.”
I abandon my half-full glass of vodka and approach her in steady steps. “Repeat that without the order part.”
“So only you are allowed to dish out orders?”
“Basically.” I stop when I’m toe-to-toe with her and she has to stare up at me. “Now, rephrase. Here's a hint. Use ‘please’.”
“Go screw yourself, please.”
I grin. “Wrong choice.”
My arm wraps around her waist and I dip my head down to hers, needing to taste her lips again.
To feast on them.
To eat her up until there’s nothing left of her.
Astrid’s sparkly green eyes widen. She jerks a hand up covering her mouth and my lips find her fingers.
Instead of pulling away, I kiss the back of her hand, biting and nibbling on her skin like I would’ve done her lips. I tongue her forefinger and middle finger, thrusting between them and sucking the flesh into my mouth.
A long shudder goes through her. I’m rock fucking hard. My dick strains against my trousers wanting to feel her bare.
I’m consuming her fingers with my mouth and she’s consuming me with that expressive, lust-filled gaze.
Her hand trembles as if she wants to remove it, but something is stopping her.
Maybe it’s the same thing that’s stopping me from bending her over and burying myself inside her so deep, neither of us would know where I end and she begins.
In one night, I had a bruised nose and shoulder because of her. I had my first all-consuming kiss with her. I enjoyed the rain after a long time also because of her.
I can’t begin to imagine what my life would be like if I spend more time with her.
No idea what’s this fucking obsession with Astrid is all about, but I know one thing.
I’m seeing it to the very end.
20
Astrid
When it rains, it fucking pours.
* * *
My eyes are barely open as I trudge down the stairs. Pain snaps from the back to the front of my head and my nose is partially blocked.
Yup. Totally caught something from being soaked in last night’s rain.
Aside from sheer confusion.
The more time I spend with Levi, the better I think I know him. At the same time, it’s like I still know next to nothing about him.
For the life of me, I can’t figure out why he does everything he does.
Don’t they say that on the chessboard, the king’s moves can’t be predicted?
Or did I make that up?
What worries me the most about Levi isn’t his acts. It’s my reaction to him. Yesterday, I was on the verge of completely surrendering to his sinful touch and lips. Damn those firm, kissable lips.
For the love of Vikings, why can’t I snap out of it and stop thinking about that kiss?
He’s the devil, remember?
“I saw her! She came home in King’s car.”
“Now, hush, Nicole,” Victoria hisses. “Don’t say that name aloud in this house.”
My feet falter around the corner of the dining room, contemplating what to do.
They’re talking about me so I shouldn’t feel bad about eavesdropping.
“I can’t take this anymore, she’s not supposed to be here. You said she’ll be gone.”
“She will.” Victoria sounds calm. “This is her last year in the house before she leaves for good.”
How did she figure out my plan?
Not that I care. This is all for everyone’s benefit. I don’t fit in with Victoria and Nicole’s posh, perfect life.
Even Nicole’s dead father was some sort of a knight. She and her mother are a picture-perfect family cut for Dad’s needs.
If he has to choose, it won’t be me.
I ignore the pang that comes with that thought and start to push inside when Victoria’s voice stops me. “Her type belongs in the rubbish just like her whore mother.”
Blood pumps in my veins and heat smothers my neck, creeping to my face.
I barge inside with my fists clenched to my sides and throw my backpack on the chair.
Victoria and Nicole sit across from each other with their plates in front of them.
“Take it back,” I say with a calmness I don’t feel.
Nicole’s malicious eyes shoot daggers in my direction as she stabs something in her plate.
Victoria’s perfect eyebrows scrunch in mock surprise. “Take what back, dear?”
“You called my mother a whore and you’ll take it back.”
“You must’ve misheard, dear,” Victoria continues smiling as she sips her tea with no care in the world.
The thing about Victoria is her ability to avoid confrontation and slip her way out of any dire situation. It’s probably why she’s the perfect wife for a man like my father.
But I’m not the press. She’s not getting away with calling my mother a whore.
“I don’t know much about my parents’ history, but I know that my mum came first,” I mimic her cool, infuriating smile. “Maybe we should research who’s the homewrecking whore in all this story.”
Victoria’s face scrunches, but she remains seated. Nicole jumps up, pointing a fork at me. “Did you just call my mother a homewrecking whore?”
“Oh,” I smirk, making sure to meet Victoria’s gaze. “You must’ve misheard, dear.”
Nicole makes her way towards me
“Sit down, Nicole,” Victoria scolds.
“You little bitch,” Nicole snarls in my face, “You and your slut of a mother were and will always be nothing to Uncle Henry. You’re just used tissue that can be thrown any second.”
I raise my fist and punch Nicole in the face.
It’s a knee-jerk reaction. Something that comes in the ruse of the moment.
Hearing her talk about my mother that way brings a rolling wave of rage.
No one, absolutely no one, badmouths my mother and gets away with it.
Nicole and Victoria shriek at the same time as the younger girl falls against the table clutching her face.
Nicole straightens with her eyes shimmering. She fists her hands, and I hold my ground.
Bring it. I’m ready for a fight to the death with her right now.
Victoria pulls her daughter back by the collar of her dress.
“Oh, Henry. I don’t know what’s wrong with Astrid.” She caresses Nicole’s hair. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.”
My muscles lock at the mention of Dad’s name. Measured footsteps come from behind me before he stands by his wife and stepdaughter’s side. His face is so closed, it’s impossible to read his mood.
“She called my mother a whore, Uncle,” Nicole sobs, showing him the reddening circle around her left eye. “When I told her to stop, she punched me.”
“That’s not true!” I yell.
“Oh, Henry,” Victoria cries. “I think Nicole needs to see a doctor.”
“Oh, come on.” I stare at her with stupefaction. It wasn’t that strong, although I wish it were.
“I know you don’t like us, Astrid.” Victoria looks at me with pity-filled eyes. “But I thought we were a family.”
“Stop being a hypocrite! You called my mother —
“Enough.” Dad’s voice booms in the dining room.
“But, Dad, she —
“It’s Father, not Dad,” he grits out.
I fight the sob trying to be set free. “She said my mum — ”
“Your mother is dead.” He deadpans as if I don’t know that piece of information. “She’s been dead for three years. I’ve been trying to give you leeway, but it’s not working. When will you learn that your mother is in the past?”
“Never!” My vision blurs with tears. “Just because you forgot about her doesn’t mean I will.”
“Astrid Elizabeth Clifford. You’ll stop this instant and apologise to Victoria and Nicole.”
Both mother and daughter smile discreetly.
I lift my chin up even as a tear slides down my cheek. “I’ll never apologise.”
“Then you’ll forget about attending next week’s exhibition.”
No. I’ve been looking forward to it since my accident. He can’t take that away from me. “But you promised.”
“And you promised to try and get along with Victoria and Nicole. If you don’t keep your promises, why should I?”
“I won’t apologise for something they started.”
“No apology. No exhibition.”
“Fine!” I snatch my backpack and throw it over my shoulder. “But for the record, you stopped keeping your promises since I was seven, Father.”
I wait until I’m out of the house before letting the tears loose.
21
Astrid
If you’re the devil, why am I not running? Why am I barging into your hell instead?
* * *
The energy in the stadium is beyond infectious. It seeps under my skin and awakens a part of me I never thought existed.
The crowd’s chants, the girls’ screaming at players, the parents’ cheering from their conservative place down below, Something Like This by Coldplay blasting from the speakers.
It’s all such a huge chaos — aside from Coldplay.
I’ve never been to a football game before, not only because sports aren’t my thing, but also because I never understood the fanatic mindset of most Premier League’s fans.
Today seems like a fraction of the Premier League — a younger brother of sorts. A few thousand spectators fill the school’s stadium, chanting and carrying the royal blue sticks matching the team’s colours.
I’m going to watch till half-time for Dan’s sake and then I’m out of here.
“Ugh, some parasites decided to show up.”
My head lifts up at Nicole’s malicious voice. I can’t help smiling at the slight bruise on her left eye from this morning. She did her best to hide it with makeup, but it’s visible.
Nicole is wearing the team’s jersey and jeans. King’s number 10. Of course. Her friend Chloe is wearing Number 13, Astor.
“If we lose, you’re dead,” Chloe says with a twist in her dramatically red lips.
I roll my eyes and decide to ignore them. The best method to conquer any bullies is to not give them what they seek — a reaction.
After some glaring, they huff and puff then head up to the ‘best’ seats.
I retrieve my sketchpad from my bag and snuggle it in my lap. Here’s to hoping the other spectators are too busy with the before-game glow to notice me sketching in the middle of their beloved game.
I focus on a small boy, probably one of the players’ brothers. He’s wearing a blue jersey and screaming ‘An!’ over and over. I smile and attempt to capture that spark in his eyes and the carefree flinging of his arms as his mother holds him.
Just as I’m about to get lost in the zone, the music comes to an abrupt halt. The entire crowd stands up, cheering and roaring at the top of their lungs. Since my vision is entirely blocked by everyone in front of me, I have no choice but to stand up, too.
The reason for the crowd’s transformation must be because of the players filtering into the stadium. I’m going to bet that the players with the white and black jerseys don’t elicit this madness. It’s the blue ones. The Elites.
I grin as my best friend walks in with his teammates, looking ready to kick some butts.
“Go get them, Danny!” I scream at the top of my lungs while everyone else chants the King name. Either Levi or Aiden — or both. Xander, Cole, and Ronan get a lot of cheering, too.
Levi leads the team with sure, confident strides. He still has the bruise around his lip from yesterday, but he looks as god-like as ever in his ‘fuck the world’ posture.
It’s not his confidence or even his last name that makes him untouchable, it’s his attitude. I’ve yet to discover anything that affects him — really affects him. And maybe I’m jealous of that. Maybe I wish I had his attitude about life.
He lost both his parents, but unlike me, he doesn’t act like it’s the end of the world.
But again, something is wired wrong about Levi.
It feels strange to see him in his lion’s den — the stadium — looking all ready to tear someone to pieces. It’s like getting another insight into who he truly is.
The two teams stay behind as Levi and another player from the other team advance to the middle. Unlike the other players, they both have a neon yellow armband. Pretty sure that means they’re the captains.
An older man wearing a black jersey and shorts stands in the middle. I assume that’s the referee. He says something and both Levi and the other player nod.
The crowd grows silent as anticipation fills the air until I can taste it on my tongue. I’m standing here like an idiot, having no idea what the hell is going on.
The referee throws a coin in the air and then nods towards Levi. The crowd cheers as the two players shake hands then shake the referee’s hand and each run back to their team.
I’m captured by the way Levi runs. It’s agile and effortless and so damn beautiful.
Everything about him is thick and hard and mesmerising.
His T-shirt sticks to his back muscles, rippling with every step he takes. His biceps bulge against the T-shirt’s short sleeves. I can’t see the throbbing veins of his arms, but I can almost feel them all pumped for the game.
His thighs and legs are a sight to behold. All muscular and toned like he’s human aesthetics.
Or more like a Greek statue.
Stunning, but cold.
All players take their positions on the pitch. The kickstart is between Levi and his cousin. The cheering from earlier must’ve been because Levi won the first ball.
The crowd sits back down, and I do too.
Although I don’t understand much of the game, I can tell Elites are doing better. They approach the goal more and the ball is almost always with them.
Every time Levi or Aiden touches the ball, the girls erupt in uncontrollable screaming. I can’t help the rush of adrenaline at seeing Levi commanding his team and giving instructions left and right.
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