Savage Queen: A Royalty Crew U of J Spin-Off Novel (The Royalty Crew Book 1)

by Alley Ciz

  Long vertical strips of red taillights show we’re coming up on a cluster of eighteen-wheelers.

  With a press of the right pedal connected to the steering wheel, I swing into the right lane before gliding across the highway into the far left and around one of the Mack trucks.

  The navigation calls out the mile warning for my upcoming exit, and I move back to the right lane, victory so close I can taste it like the burned rubber on the pavement when it happens.

  In a move that is either suicidal or the most impressive stunt-driver-level skill ever depending on how you look at it, the Camaro squeezes between the eighteen-wheeler I just passed and the Toyota behind it, the sound of its tires kicking up the loose gravel on the shoulder of the road loud enough to be heard over my engine and my music as it skirts around the line of traffic for the exit. The opportunity to feel Samantha’s cunt squeeze my cock slips away as the Camaro slips in front of me for the first time.

  Sonofabitch.

  Strobe lights in the taillights flash at me as we pull into King’s lot, the bitter taste of second place instead of Samantha’s pussy juices on my tongue.

  I may have to accept the loss, but the little princess will have to come to terms with me not honoring the bet. Nah…you know what? I think it’s time to kick things into a higher gear.

  CHAPTER 11

  Another yawn breaks free as I make my way to my locker to switch out the books in my bag for what I’ll need for first period, the deep exhaustion I haven’t been able to shake since pushing myself too far this weekend still lingering. Not even Nonna Falco fussing over me at Sunday dinner was enough to banish it entirely.

  I know it’s my own fault that I ignored the signs of an asthma attack without treating it for too long, and now I’m suffering the consequences.

  Reaching for the lock dial, the bruise-like, resistance-band feeling tightens around my chest, another yawn only intensifying the sensation. Careful to not spill and stain my white shirt, I bring the hand holding the paper to-go cup from Espresso Patronum to rub at my sternum to help alleviate the pressure.

  Damn me for being such a stubborn bitch and not using my inhaler when I should have.

  Yes, you should have. But nope, you pushed yourself into an asthma attack, and then you went and participated in the race with Wes when you should have taken it easy. Bet that really helped, hmm?

  My head falls forward, my forehead touching the cold metal of my locker as I chuckle to myself at the shade I toss my own way. It’s no wonder Tessa nicknamed me Bitchy. Can’t say I regret pushing through the aftermath symptoms to witness the look on Jasper’s face when Wes and I stepped out of the garage after parking the Camaro.

  Jealous?

  Thunderous?

  My favorite was the murderous turn it took when I gave him a small finger wave and pressed a kiss to the underside of Wes’s jaw.

  It may be immature game playing, but I’m only seventeen years old; if ever there was a time to get away with childish behavior, it’s now.

  With another painful yawn, I spin the dial right, then left, and back to the right, slowing as I come to the last number of the combination. I pinch the lock handle between my fingers—grateful there’s no lube coating it this time—and tug upward until it disengages.

  Something small and white falls onto the white toe of my purple Chucks the second I pull the locker open, and it takes a few seconds for my sluggish reflexes to react to what I’m seeing.

  “Oh shit!” I jump back and slam the door closed with a loud clang.

  Is that a fucking mouse?

  My knees crack as I bend and lower myself as slowly as possible, and sure enough, a two-inch rodent looks back at me with its beady black eyes. Even as it ping-pongs between my foot and the wall, I can’t help but think it’s actually kind of cute.

  Continuing to keep my movements slow to not spook the thing, I set my coffee cup down and hold my hands out like I’m cradling a softball between them, hovering over my stowaway. On a silent count of three, I scoop up my furry friend.

  Needle-like pricks scratch against the skin of my palms while the twitch-twitch of whiskers tickles me.

  Not wanting to risk being bitten, I use my wrists to nudge the flap of my messenger bag up and carefully set the little guy in the free space available on top of my English lit textbook.

  I shake out my hands, reclaiming my coffee, and rise to stand. I’ll need to remember to thank Carter and his insistence on having a pet boa constrictor growing up. If I had never helped him feed Merlin this little dude’s cousins through the years, I surely would have reacted like the jumpy, squeaky scaredy-cat those I suspect are responsible for my new buddy here expected me to be.

  Way to welch on your end of the bet, fuckface.

  With a slow, deep breath to calm myself before I trigger another asthma attack—I’m always more susceptible to one after experiencing one—I spin the dial and ease my locker open enough to peek inside.

  Now that I’m paying attention, I hear the tiny chorus of squeaks before seeing the mischief of mice jockeying for position on my textbooks.

  Before any more of them can pull a Michael Scofield and perform a prison break, I close the door and think of what would be the best course of action to take.

  “If they want to play games with you, Savvy, show them how they’re played.” My brother’s words and his innate confidence in me play through my memory and chase away the last of the negativity lingering from this latest juvenile bullying attempt.

  The back of my neck prickles at the weight of expectant eyes watching me. I don’t turn around, refusing to give them even the briefest glimpse into my own thought process.

  My foot taps, and I worry the strap on my bag with my hand as another piece of advice from Carter pushes to the forefront. “A ruler is only as strong as the allies they curry.”

  Mentally I roll my eyes thinking of all the times I’ve teased him about his Game of Thrones type thinking. Though…

  I’m loath to admit it, but his monarchical principles always find a way to be relevant. It’s why I find myself walking down the hall to the left toward where the custodial offices are located instead of to the right toward homeroom. Guess I’m going to be late.

  Pulling my Ray-Bans out of my bag, I slip them on as soon as Tinsley and I step out onto the cafeteria’s outdoor patio. Looking around, I see most of the tables are filled with students who, like us, are taking advantage of the warm weather while we still have it.

  Personally, I’m not looking forward to when the temperatures drop and we are forced to sit inside where I can’t escape the scrutiny of a particular set of pearly eyes.

  Tinsley and I fall into our typical easy conversation, but if she thinks she’s disguising her concern about how I’m feeling, she’s most definitely failing. I don’t call her out on it, though. If I were still attending Blackwell Public, Tessa would be sticking to me like I was Peter Pan and she was my shadow.

  Plus…

  It’s nice to be cared about. And Tinsley? She’s a blessing I wasn’t even aware I needed. She’s the perfect bridge between all the things I love about my old life at BP and the shark-infested waters I need to navigate through at BA.

  “I still can’t believe no one’s talking about how you had mice in your locker.” As if it wasn’t evident enough in her tone, her full-body shiver gives away her disgust.

  I bury a laugh with a long swallow of Pepsi Wild Cherry. “It’s probably because I didn’t react. I didn’t scream or cry. I didn’t run away or cause any kind of scene they could document.” I pop a shoulder. “Who’s gonna waste their time gossiping about something without drama?”

  Tinsley gives me a You’ve got a point head bob as she munches on a bite of chicken marsala. I can find many, many faults with my new academic establishment, but their culinary selections are not one of them. At least Arabella was right about one thing in this pretentious place.

  “What did you do with them anyway?”

  I ope
n my mouth to answer, but before I can speak, a bowl filled with tan pellets, sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, and dried corn is slid in front of me, and the metaphorical thorn takes his place in my side by dropping into the empty chair beside me.

  An arm whose muscle definition displayed by a rolled-up sleeve I pointedly ignore drapes across the back of my seat, and knees connect with my thighs. I refuse to watch the strain of the wool of his dark trousers as he knocks into my leg and the chair scrapes then clangs against the stone.

  I shift to angle my body around. Carter taught me you never give an enemy your back. You face them head-on and dare them to come at you.

  My hands ball into fists as I resist the urge to smack that damn smirk off those stupidly tempting lips. Warm air caresses my cheek, and the breath I shouldn’t be holding is held in self-defense as his sandalwood scent tries to invade my senses.

  “Yeah, Samantha…” Calloused fingertips circle the jut of my kneecap, my legs snapping together to prevent their progress up my inner thigh. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about the way my muscles tremble under the touch I don’t want but can’t bring myself to hate. “What did you do with your new friends?”

  If only shooting daggers out of one’s eyes were a real thing. It would solve so many of my issues right now.

  “They are taken care of, thank you for asking.” I roll my shoulder back in indifference and to knock the fingers tracing figure eights on the back of it off.

  Those pearly eyes bounce over the features of my face, that smirk slipping slightly at my stoic demeanor. The tick of Jasper’s jaw is the only tell of his disappointment. It kills him that I don’t react like he believes I should.

  “Tell me, Samantha.” The command in his tone has shivers shooting down my spine. Since the Royals dubbed me Savvy for short, I’ve hated my legal name, but the gravelly way it rolls off Jasper’s tongue? Yeah, my issue now is that I don’t.

  “You know…” I lay my hand over the center of his chest, the muscles tensing under my touch, and toy with one of the buttons on his uniform shirt. I keep my gaze on where I pluck at the small plastic disk, lifting and pushing it around the buttonhole.

  I wonder if he wears an undershirt. If I undo this button, I’ll find out…

  Shit! I shake my head to rid myself of those highly inappropriate thoughts. What the hell?

  “You really should work on your retention skills, because if I”—I flatten my free hand over my heart—“recall correctly, you”—I push harder on his chest—“lost and are now supposed to leave. Me. Alone.”

  A vein pulses in his temple.

  From beneath my lashes, I meet his gaze, only to find all his attention focused on where I’ve connected us. I swallow at the intensity in it, my teeth biting into the soft flesh of my lower lip, worrying over the small piece of chapped skin in the corner.

  “Oh?” He arches a brow. “And are you saying if I had won, you would have willingly gotten on your knees for me?” He grips said knees. “That you would have eagerly opened your mouth?”

  Behind my ribcage, my heart pounds, the steady thump-thump-thump increasing at his dirty words.

  “That it wouldn’t have taken my hand wrapped around your hair while I force-fed you my dick?”

  The visual he paints has my nipples pebbling against the lace of my bra. When Jasper drops his eyes to them before sliding his gaze up to where I’m nibbling on my lip, my nostrils flare, and my eyes widen to hide a deep, steadying inhalation as I try to control my outward reaction to his close proximity. Why the hell does he affect me?

  Determined to ignore the thoughts he inspires, I look for a redirection. I clear my throat and start to walk my fingers up the seam of his shirt. “Your pranks are as unimaginative as your driving skills.” I lift my hand and fill the dimple in his chin with the pad of my forefinger before flicking it off, my nail catching his skin on the way down. “Must be why you lost to a Royal this weekend.”

  A hand clamps around my thigh, fingers digging into the space where the muscles connect to bone, his thumb spreading under the pleated hem of my skirt with authority, spinning me around until we’re once again face-to-face.

  My eyes cross in an effort to maintain eye contact, the tip of Jasper’s nose bumping mine before dragging along the jut of my cheekbone and back to my ear. The world goes black as my eyelids close with his exhalation.

  “When are you going to realize I’m not the type of man you want to play games with?” I jolt in my seat like I’ve been electrocuted when his teeth nip at my earlobe.

  “I’m not playing at anything.”

  “The fuck you aren’t.” I’m tugged closer, the leg in his punishing grip pushed out into a wide V that straddles his knees, the drape of my skirt pleats the only thing keeping him from getting a panty shot of my pussy. Thank fuck for that because there would be no way to hide what I can feel is most definitely an embarrassing wet spot he is the direct cause of.

  “No, Noble.” My lips twist to the side, making sure to remind him just how much I think he lacks in living up to the title. “I don’t play games. I set the rules.” With his cheek still pressed to mine, all it takes is a dip of my chin to nip his razor-sharp jawline.

  Whip fast, his free hand is in my hair, fisting the locks like in his earlier threat, pulling until my scalp stings and my neck is forced to arch back. His mouth falls to my exposed throat, lips brushing my skin as he murmurs, “I promise you this”—he licks the length of the vein pulsing double time, and the contact of his piercing has my panties officially soaked through—“you will learn the only one who makes the rules here is me.”

  Instinct urges me to argue, to assert my dominance the way I’ve been raised to do. I can’t. Nothing happens. No words form. Instead, I have to concentrate on choking down the whimper of need that’s trying to escape. What the fuck is with that? Need? That’s some shit right there.

  “I hope you enjoyed yourself this weekend—”

  “Immensely,” I say breathlessly.

  “Fuck.” With his face still buried against me, the growl he emits vibrates through me at the insinuation. The hand in my hair twists, and I cry out. Warm heat blankets my pulse point for a second before blinding suction transforms my bones to jelly.

  I wiggle and squirm, slamming my hands against his pectorals, trying to get free. Nothing I do fazes Jasper; he just continues to suck. When he finally pulls back, he’s not only smirking, he’s full-on smiling, his thumb rubbing over my still damp skin.

  This motherfucker better not have left a hickey.

  “Keep pushing me, Samantha”—he presses down on the same spot, his eyes flashing open to me, the center of them a deep swirling gray, purple, and silver, the pupils dilated—“I dare you.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Miracle of miracles today wasn’t one of the days Natalie “required” my presence at the St. James. Thank god for small favors on Mondays.

  Not gonna lie, it was a little strange having Daniel drop me off at Carter’s, the Bentley seeming out of place in the vast lot of my brother’s property. Still, I thanked him for the ride and promised I wouldn’t need him any more for the day. Carter can more than handle taking me back to the St. James later.

  Carter’s Corvette is parked next to the Camaro as I make my way through the garage, but he’s nowhere to be found when I call out “Party’s here” à la Snookie.

  Dumping my bag in the living room area, I make my way to my bedroom to change out of my uniform into a pair of dragon-printed leggings, the purple, gray, and black scales of the beast’s large wings wrapping all the way around each of my legs. I pull on a black sports bra and complete the look with a cropped Blackwell Public wide-neck tee, the school’s dragon mascot breathing fire from the center of my chest.

  Across the room, the door leading from the gym that takes up a quarter of the residence opens, and my brother enters at the same time I step off the final stair.

  “No.” The word whips out quick as a bullet when he sees me
dressed to work out.

  “Cart,” I argue, the purple fabric of my hand wrap hooked over my thumb and skimming the ground as it dangles from my finger.

  “Not just no, it’s a fuck no, Savvy.” He slashes a hand through the air when I go to object again. “The only thing you’re allowed to do this week is yoga. Nothing else.”

  I love yoga, but I really, really need to hit something. If it couldn’t be Jasper earlier, I was okay with settling for the punching bag in the gym.

  We both keep moving until we meet in the middle of the open-concept floor plan. “But—”

  “Nope.” I get a head shake for good measure. “Maybe—and that’s a big fucking maybe”—a finger shakes inches from my nose—“I’ll allow you to add swimming laps back in before the weekend.” The harsh line of his mouth eases as it curls into a smile. “But I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

  Hardy-har-har. Isn’t my brother a regular comedian? I grind my teeth and fold my arms over my chest, putting every ounce of teenage angst I can muster into my actions, going as far as tapping my foot. I’m sure most girls my age would argue with the classic You’re not my father, but I would never ever disrespect Carter that way. He may not be my father, but he actually gives a shit about me, unlike Natalie.

  The triple beep of the lock from the garage disengaging sounds, and a second later, Tessa breezes into the room. As my gaze slides her way, a frown tugs down the corners of her lips and there’s a lack of peppy bounce in her steps.

  “Ooo…” The shadows fade from her blue eyes as a mischievous sparkle takes over while she studies the scene in front of her. “Did I walk in on a King duel? Should I get out the jousting sticks? Oh, wait!”

  While she fumbles around in her pocket for her phone, I feel it’s important to point out we do not have jousting sticks here. Carter may be obsessed with playing up all the royalty stuff, but he’s not into the Renaissance.

  Rhythmic bass pumps out of the speaker of Tessa’s iPhone as Lin-Manuel Miranda and the cast of Hamilton start counting out the "Ten Duel Commandments".