Vengeance (The Prince's Games Book 1)

by Rebecca Grey

  The Vampire releases an airy laugh and claps Marcello on the shoulder. "Fuck her good for me before she dies, won't you?" The girl at his side giggles and takes his hand again.

  "You heard the girl. Fuck off!" Marcello moves behind me so I don't know what sort of expression he wears, but it's enough that the Vampire rolls his eyes and walks away. He chats quietly to his companion about whatever pitiful betting they'll place on me, but it's lost to the roaring inside of my ears.

  In the brief pause of spectators as they eat up Davison's team, admiring their combined brute strength, Marcello leans his head against mine. "You make this so hard on yourself."

  "And what? You think I deserve this? To be talked to like this?"

  As I talk back Juilliard pinches the bridge of his nose. "Nilsa can you just shut up until this is over? And stop drawing unwanted attention to us. With your attitude the crowd will be cheering for our defeat," he says it quietly but the force behind it, the meaning, is loud.

  "Juilliard you can shut up too," Marcello commands. His thumb strokes against my arm twice before he stills and tries to talk again. "You signed up for this. You knew this was going to be hard. So get your shit together."

  And just like that I'm supposed to reign it in. Self-Control is the Saint that I pray to in times such as these. I pray and I wish that there could be a Saint that removes the bothersome burden of feeling.

  It's hours of this. Hours of torment and hell in this arena. It takes most of the evening as I ignore their snide comments and endure their mockery for me to be able to finally flip the switch inside of me.

  As the last row makes its way through the arena floor and my feet ache from all the standing in these heels, I slouch against Marcello. Periodically, I shift my weight from one foot to the other and my knees beg for rest. I regret not drinking more. If I was drunk, perhaps this wouldn't hurt as bad.

  The last of the Hybrids make their way through and disappear to rattle off their bets to their teller. Marcello lets go of my wrists and slowly takes a step back. The announcer picks up the microphone, bringing it too close to his lips.

  "Teams, you are dismissed to your rooms for the evening. Please be ready by morning's light for the first event!"

  There is a static click as the microphone is turned off, making the room shift toward the exits. I look at my team members who remain silent and resigned, only Marcello looks back. The same tormented sadness in his gaze is there like the first time we met. I recognize the feeling deep in my own soul. He breaks the stare and heads for the door.

  Juilliard claps Marcello on the back as he goes by, talking mainly to himself, "I need a fucking cigarette."

  My heels stay planted on the floor. Hybrids knock into me as they walk by. One shoulder hits me hard enough I stumble forward, snapping me out of the hole my consciousness has buried itself in. A large muscular Orc snarls at me, as if I am the one not watching where I am going. Instantly, I recognize him from Davison's team. I take a step forward with the intention of letting that Orc know exactly who I am and why he should be afraid of me but Davison's voice rises above the rowdy stomp of feet.

  "That was rough, wasn't it?" He walks beside me and I forget about my plan with the Orc. "I mean, I knew that I wasn't going to be top pick for winning, but damn Hybrids can sure come up with some creative names. One of them even called me a, and I quote, 'Purist Pillock'. What does that even mean?"

  Hell if I know but I'm sure it's nothing good.

  "Davison why are you talking to me?" I sigh.

  "Because you're the only one that'll understand."

  I know he's trying, but his effort is wasted on me. "Tomorrow, the Games begin and we'll be at each other's throats." I snort. "I think it's pointless for us to try and get to know each other. And even if we are the last Humans on Earth, I don't think we're going to be able to get around to repopulating our species."

  Davison buzzes with laughter, choking on the sound when I send him a pointed glare. "I didn’t even suggest that we do such a thing. I mean I wouldn’t turn down the opportunity, but what about an alliance instead?"

  "Between teams?" I grimace thinking of the Orc and Mavi, neither of which I would want to be aligned with.

  He lowers his voice, our bodies knocking together as we join the other players as the crowd bottlenecks at the exit to the arena and heads for the elevators. All the sparkle and glamour of the evening has officially worn off, replaced only by my need to sleep.

  "Between you and me. I promise I won't kill you if you promise not to kill me. We have enough enemies out there, we don't need to turn on ourselves. It's our own Human alliance."

  "You're crazy." I gather my skirt in my hand to keep the material from getting snagged under someone else’s shoes. I stand tall, trying to look over the bobbing heads for any signs of my own team. Marcello seems as bothered as any by the quick lashing of my anger I wasn't able to contain. These are his people. Marcello was brought up in The Oasis, likely in or near the castle. How many of these people knew him and bet on him? How many had to watch as he put me on a leash to keep me from biting back?

  "Hear me out," Davison continues, glancing at his team who moves in the opposite direction to head for their rooms. "It's additional protection. Not a guarantee, but something to help give us that edge to get us farther in the Games."

  "If I agree, will you stop talking to me?"

  "Is that a yes?"

  "It's not a no." I cross my arms, stopping as the line of Hybrids lulls as we wait on elevator doors to carry everyone up and come back down for us.

  "Shake on it." He extends his hand.

  I glance down at his palm hanging in the air between us. Sucking on my teeth I put my hand in his. "I'm agreeing, but I'm not going to say that I like the idea. And if anyone on my team finds out, I'll gut you."

  "I would hope that you would." Davison keeps a hold of my hand and brings it up to his lips, placing a kiss on my knuckles. My face falls slack as he leaves a kiss for me, dropping my hand and backing away into the crowd until I can no longer see him.

  I hold my knuckles, trying to remember if anyone had ever done that to me before. It was almost like a sign of respect. I rub my fingertips across every dip and scar on my hand, letting my body get absorbed into the crowd as I step into any available space until I'm front of the line.

  There should be some sort of remorse in my body for my actions. No, maybe not remorse... but disappointment in myself for my blatant disregard for my own safety? There isn't. I feel nothing. If anything, I'm happy I had the chance to slap the king, even if I wasn't able to complete my task. I'll deal him much worse when the time arises.

  The elevator doors open and chime. I lift my foot moving to usher myself inside with the intention of hitting the button that closes the doors quickly, but a shoulder knocks into me as the Hybrids start to make their way around me as if I'm not even standing there. I grit my teeth, pushing my way forward with them. A large hand with curling dark hair presses into my chest, pushing me back as a half-turned wolf shoves me away.

  "Fucking hell," I knock his hand away and his toothy snarl echoes in the large room around us.

  "Find another elevator, Purist."

  A small Dwarf not too far ahead nods along. "We shouldn't have to be subjected to riding in the same elevator as that thing."

  Embarrassment and rage darken my skin. I've come to expect this, but it still cuts every time I hear it. Once I would have shrunk back from the remarks and hidden behind Arron. Perhaps tonight I'd used Marcello in the same way. I don't have either of them now. I don't need either of them.

  Before the glass doors can shut, I shove my arm between them as I'd seen Marcello do. They bounce back open and every pair of Hybrid eyes turns to me. With my opposite hand, I snatch the chain up from around the Dwarf's neck.

  "What are you—" His necklace, with a large gaudy jewel, snaps behind his head and I toss it to the floor behind me. It skitters to the line of waiting Hybrids. He's my best bet, since Dwar
f reflexes are on par with mine. "That's a family heirloom!" He shrieks, hustling back out into the lobby.

  I take his spot inside the cramped elevator, hitting the button for floor six and then quickly the button that will close the doors with me inside. The man’s face turns the same red hue of his hair as he watches the elevator lift.

  “You shouldn’t be subjected to riding in the same elevator as me.” I say with no emotion.

  Hands intertwine into my hair, yanking my head back. Rough lips brush against my cheek. "Bad move, Human."

  Pressure digs under my ribs in a quick jab. An elbow delivers the blow that knocks the wind clear from my lungs. My body tries to double over, but the Elf with his hands in my hair holds my upright as I groan.

  "Anyone want a bite?" The accented voice laughs. The carry of his words is familiar and I finally tear my gaze up to his face. Mavi. "It's a shame I don't fancy Humans much, though I must say seeing you with Marcello makes me want you in some strange way."

  "Don't let little ol' me get in the way of whatever shitstorm of a family rivalry you two have going on." I grimace at him as the elevator doors open and close, letting out some of the press of bodies keeping us all so close. I laugh, though it ends in a breathy wheeze and my rib cage aches.

  I stare back at his blue eyes and his face splitting grin. He's young for an Elf, as young as Marcello, I'd guess. He licks his lips, his attention falling to my own before he looks away from my face and to the Vampire who picks up my wrist.

  "Should I drain her?" The man asks. I roll my eyes, earning myself a smirk from Mavi.

  "No," the Elf says slowly, "but just enough to make her weak."

  The Vampire wastes no time, knowing our elevator ride is short. I don't even believe that he could drain me before it comes to a stop again and I throw myself out. Two fangs break my skin and the Vampire moans against me, drinking quickly. I can feel the tug as blood is sucked from my veins.

  "I thought you weren't supposed to hurt the other competitors until the Games start tomorrow?" I inch my hand toward the slit of my skirt.

  "I'm a sucker for breaking the rules I guess."

  The rest of the Hybrids in the elevator chuckle at that. All of them content to watch as they prey on me. Letting them feel like they've got one up on me makes me look small, weak even, but if I make the pain into pleasure, I've become the one wielding the power again.

  "How did you know..." My breathing hitches as the Vampire takes a particularly deep drink of blood. I look to the screen where the numbers tick up as we pass another floor, the next stop is mine. "How did you know that I like it rough?" I run my tongue along my bottom lip, batting my lashes in the most innocent of ways. Mavi’s smile grows bigger, his hand loosening in my hair.

  The elevator dings. The doors slowly open. At my wrist the Vampire pulls away to glance at what level we've stopped on. Six. We're on my floor. In one smooth swivel, I yank a dagger from my thigh and step away from both of their holds. Mavi’s fingers catch in my hair. I'd rather lose a few clumps than stay here a moment longer.

  A metal cross curves around the bottom of the hilt and I press it into the exposed skin of the Vampire’s hand as I pass. He hisses. I point the dagger between them. The few Hybrids behind Mavi and the Vampire watch with interest.

  "Seems you aren't the only one who likes to break the rules." I step out into the hall. Blood drips down my wrist and into my palm until the droplets run off my fingertips. "I'll see you in the arena tomorrow." I blow them a mocking kiss as the elevator doors close and the glass carries them up. I can't hear them, but I can see the amusement on their faces and the way their bodies shake with laughter. They still don't see me as a threat even now.

  When they disappear to the next floor, I finally let out a long breath. My shoulders sag. I hold my dagger tightly in my palm, not willing to put it away and uncaring of the trouble I could get in for having it out now. The bleeding bite that pulses with pain on my arm is enough proof that the weapon is necessary. Never trust a Hybrid.

  The Vampire hadn't done enough to truly drain me but I know if I were to curl up and sleep right now, I'd sleep hard. So maybe this ride had been some sort of blessing in disguise. When I reach our door, I knock. After a couple sluggish heartbeats, the door opens, Juilliard scowling on the other side.

  He looks me over from the tussle of my hair down the dagger in one hand and the blood dripping in the other. "Bloody hell, Nilsa! We left you alone for five minutes and this is what happens."

  "I'm fine, Juilliard. Move out of the way." I brush by, knocking against him. The wrist that bleeds drips steadily against the side of my dress, I lift my arm up in hopes that gravity will help slow the bleeding. The room tilts in my vision for a moment before it straightens. "I just need a drink and something to eat and I'll be fine."

  "Bullshit," Juilliard huffs. "This is exactly why I told Marcello we shouldn't have allowed a Human on our team. We're the laughing stock of the Games after what you did in the arena tonight. Do you know what the king is going to do to you tomorrow?"

  "Like I give a shit."

  "You'll give a shit when he tears you to pieces."

  I stop before heading to my room. Finnegan and Sloane are both posed on the couch, watching us in silence. Sloane's gaze flicks to my wrist and the blood before she bothers to look to my face. My bedroom door cracks open and Hedda leans in the doorway. No Marcello.

  Spinning on my toes I march back up to Juilliard, leaving not even a breath between us. "You are just like them in every way."

  His lashes flutter as he rolls his eyes. "Like who?"

  "Like the trash that treats me like this. Just like everyone else from the fucking Oasis. I've done nothing to you. Nothing! Yet you hate me for merely existing." I don't care about my bleeding wrist anymore, or that Juilliard is still in his suit. He can always buy another. Adrenaline from my elevator ride still races in my bloodstream. It makes it easy for me not to care as I shove him hard enough his back hits the door with a loud thunk. "Remember, I was asked to be on this team. I didn't go looking to join the Games."

  "Don't touch me!" He bats my hands away. "If you think I won't hit a woman, you're sorely mistaken." I can still smell the liquor on his breath.

  "Hit me. I dare you. I fucking dare you to lay one finger on me as if I haven't been hit my entire Saints damned life." The words tumble from my lips, stained with the lifetime of frustration.

  This is just another fucking day in the life of Nilsa Windsor.

  But it isn't... not really. It's the same as every other day of my life only in the way that Hybrids hate me. In the way that Hybrids only use me. Like this team, using me to win the Games. Maybe I am the sacrificial lamb. Maybe the king is right.

  Still the fact remains that today is different. The Oasis Games have brought on a new sort of pressure, much different than any other job I've taken on before. I need to win the games for my job, for The Bend, for power... for myself. I don't remember the last time I tried to attempt something that could help me achieve something more than just surviving another day.

  "Are you stupid?" Juilliard throws his hands up with a sigh. I don't move. "You're so confrontational, Nilsa, and you don't even see it. What did you do to bring that upon yourself? Did you ask for it? Do you want to start the first event weak as hell?" He snatches up my wrist, showing me the two fang marks, as if I didn't know they were even there. At least the bleeding has nearly stopped.

  "You think I asked for this?" I laugh and pull my hand out of his grasp. "You're the stupid one."

  In a flash of movement, Juilliard grabs the straps of my dress, fisting it in his hands as he pulls me up so I'm standing on my tiptoes an inch away from his face. His mouth opens to speak, but a gentle voice cuts him off.

  "That's not how we treat ladies." Finnegan purrs next to Juilliard's side. He lifts a hand, forcing Juilliard to lower his arms.

  "She is not a lady. She is a beast," Juilliard sneers.

  With a hiss, I spit at his face.
His hands fall away completely as he reaches to wipe at his features that are twisting with his own wrath. I'm not scared of Juilliard. I'm not scared of any of these fucking creatures.

  "You think I'm the beast when I'm merely acting out in defense," I say.

  "That is enough!" A booming voice shakes the room, causing me to blink and step away.

  Finnegan smoothly steps in-between Juilliard and I to fill the space before we can be at each other's throats again. Everyone in the room twists to look at Marcello. His suit jacket and the button up have long been removed from his chest, leaving the entire span of lean muscle on top of muscle that veers down his torso exposed. His pants hang loosely around his hips. He flicks that starlit gaze between me and his friend.

  "We will not win the Games by being at each other's throats." He isn't yelling any longer. His voice is not much more than a breathy sigh. With a sharp inhale, he plants his hands on his hips. "You will find a way to make this work. You two will find a way to get along." He narrows his gaze on Juilliard. "Go to bed, that's an order."

  Juilliard stiffens, slipping around Finnegan and heading for the door behind Marcello. He doesn't even give me one last scowl-filled glance. But I watch his shoulders wishing that one look from me could turn him to dust.

  "So you're giving orders now?" I sniffle.

  "I am the leader of this team. Am I not?" Marcello grinds out.

  The Vampire next to me smooths back his hair and offers me his palm. Finnegan waits with the patience that only a being that has lived through several centuries can muster. "May I have a look?"

  "Not if you're going to try and get a taste of your own." I lift my chin.

  His red eyes flare. "Not at all. Just want to understand the meaning of the puncture."

  I hold my wrist up, feeling my own pulse still racing under his touch. He runs a finger over the small wound. The brush of his finger stings, nevertheless, I hold still. His brows pinch together and he cocks his head.

  "This was a bite taken by force," Finnegan whispers.

  Marcello's heavy steps pound against the floor as he makes his way to us. He looks toward Finnegan. "Are you sure?"