Sitting with The Kings at lunch feels like taking a walk down main street naked. Everyone is staring at us. I’m pretty sure they’ve been staring all day too. Other things I’ve noticed this morning: the entire back row during algebra was free. Teachers avoided my eyes in the hallway. Someone accidentally slapped me in the shoulder with their backpack as I was coming to the cafeteria and they ran away in tears before I could tell them I was fine.
I’d forgotten that the Kings are more than just the rock gods of Redwood Prep.
They’re ruthless rulers.
I got too close to them, so close that I was out of touch with reality. I failed to see what most of the students at Redwood see when they look at them.
Threats wrapped in tattoos and vengeance.
It’s why I followed orders and dragged myself to the cafeteria. I’m fighting too many battles these days, and I don’t care to add another one.
Not today at least.
Dutch Cross can win this round while I recover my strength.
“You want something else?” Dutch asks. His voice is a low hush in my ear. A shiver runs down my spine when he adds in a coarse whisper, “Or do you need me to feed you again?”
I glare at him. “Try it and I’ll bite your hand off.”
Finn unleashes one of his sexy ghost smiles.
Sol just shakes his head, looking annoyed.
Zane snorts. “Damn, Dutch. Give my sister-in-law some room. How is she supposed to eat with you breathing down her neck like that?”
Dutch looks pleased as he straightens away from me.
But my eyes widen in horror. “What did you just call me?”
Dutch cuts his brother off before he can answer. “I got another call from Bex Dane this morning. Since the Halloween Bash was a success, his people want us to play for the Christmas tour.”
My eyes widen at the name drop. Bex Dane is one of the hottest solo punk-rock artists out right now. If Jarod Cross is a legend, Bex Dane is the dark horse gunning for his spot at number one.
“He called again?” Sol smirks.
“Bex is needier than all of my exes combined,” Zane mumbles.
Finn scowls. “And Christmas isn’t my thing.”
“Ugh.” Zane flops back in his chair, his long, tattooed arms dangling almost to the floor. “You’re not going to accept, are you? You always turn into a drill sergeant before a gig.”
Dutch shakes his head. “I said no.”
Zane sighs in relief.
“Bex won’t stop asking,” Finn says in a deep voice. There was a rumor around school that Finn once got a girl to walk a mile in the freezing cold just by talking on the phone with her. I don’t think that rumor was exaggerated. There’s a chocolate quality to his tone that’s perfect for late night radio… or casting spells.
Sol props an arm on the back of Zane’s chair. “Why aren’t you taking the gig? It would piss off your dad.”
“We’ve got other plans,” Dutch says, glancing at me.
I squirm and glance away. The cafeteria food looks tasty, but I can’t bring myself to eat.
“Here.” Sol slides his tray over to me. There’s a sandwich on it. “Have this.”
“Thanks.” I give him a grateful smile. Eating a sandwich during lunch instead of this five-star hotel fare is way more comfortable for me.
Dutch glares at our exchange, but I don’t care. He doesn’t like me being friendly with Sol? So what? Sol and I are close and I’m my own freaking person.
“Look, there’s Paris,” Finn says, nodding across the cafeteria.
The boys all stop and watch, so I do too.
Paris is shuffling into the lunch room, her head lowered.
Zane laughs. “What did you say to her?”
Dutch doesn’t answer, but the look he gives the cheerleading captain is pure hellfire. Paris stops right in front of The Kings’ table and uses the tray to cover her stomach like armor. Her eyes still haven’t left the floor.
“Did you take care of it?” Dutch growls.
“The girl who took Zane’s picture is off the squad. If anyone on the team talks to her, they’re off too.”
Zane pops a grape from the stem and eats it like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
Finn is reading a book—how he’s focusing on the words in this situation? I have no idea.
Sol looks bored with the whole scene already.
“I-is that all?” Paris trembles.
“One more thing.”
To my surprise, Dutch grabs my wrist and yanks my arm up. My sandwich flops to the bench, lettuce and mayo spattering.
I whip around to slam him with an angry glare, but he’s not looking at me. He’s staring at Paris with that scary face of his.
The cheerleader flinches in response.
“A feral cat made the mistake of putting her claws on my girl.”
“Your girl?” I hiss.
Dutch holds my hands tight, his eyes burning. “If that cat ever puts its hands on Cadence again, I’m going to hunt it down and cut each of its claws. You hear me?”
Paris blinks rapidly. “Y-yes.”
Dutch removes his eyes from her and she scurries away so fast she leaves skid marks on the floor.
Zane arches a brow. “When did Paris come for Cadence?”
Dutch doesn’t respond.
Zane arches a brow at me. “Brahms? Care to share?”
“I do not.” My nostrils flare. I turn to Dutch. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He picks his chopsticks up and calmly eats his sushi.
My chest hot and my temper rising, I shoot to my feet.
“Where are you going?” Dutch growls, chewing without looking my way.
“The bathroom. Or do I need your permission to pee?”
Zane leans over to Finn and whispers, “Mommy and daddy are fighting again.”
I pin him with a seething look.
Sol’s brow goes up. “Did Paris hurt you, Cadence? Where? Are you okay now?”
“None of your business,” Dutch snaps at him.
Sol’s eyes go dark.
Unable to stand another moment in Dutch’s overwhelming presence, I climb out of the bench. The more he tries to control me, the more hatred I feel for him.
Paris is my problem.
Sol is my friend.
And I damn well can eat lunch with or without him if I so please.
I won’t let him take over me.
Never.
Not as long as I’m breathing.
I storm out of the cafeteria. Rather than head into the bathrooms where the girls will probably all run out in fear, I turn right and slam into one of the private stairwells.
Plopping down on the step, I fist a hand, stuff it into my mouth and let out muffled screams of frustration. I try to be quiet, but the sound bounces against the walls, ricocheting in the empty space.
As the last of the echoes fade, the door one floor below opens and Dutch stalks toward me, moving through the darkness like he owns every shadow.
“This isn’t the bathroom.”
“I got lost on the way,” I spit out.
“Get up, Cadey.”
“Leave me the hell alone.”
Dutch’s eyes narrow. He sits on the stair beside me.
“You want me to punish her more?”
“What? No!” I shuffle over as far as I can go. “I didn’t tell you about Paris because I didn’t need your help.”
“Who said I was helping?”
“I could have handled her.”
“I know. But I need to set an example. Everyone should understand the consequences if they touch what’s mine.”
At this point, I’m absolutely done.
“Go to hell,” I snarl.
Suddenly, Dutch rolls over me and jams his massive body between my legs. My back crashes into the stair when his weight presses on top of me. He smirks and grazes my lips with his, sweeping across my face until he’s at my ear. “I already told you, Cadey. If I’m going to hell, I’m dragging you there with me.”
He rocks his hips forward, making me groan. It feels so damn good, even though I hate him with every fibre of my being. My heart pounds fast enough to burst.
Musical chimes blast through the hallways.
Saved by the bell.
“I need to get to class,” I stammer, although everything in my body wants to lock my legs around his waist and pull him deep into me.
Dutch tips my chin up so I’m falling into his dark hazel eyes. “No class.”
“No class?” I repeat after him like a buffoon.
“You have two choices, Cadey. One—” He sticks up a rough, calloused finger. “I make you scream my name loud enough for the classrooms on both ends of the hallway to hear. Or—”
“Two. I’ll go with two,” I blurt.
He smirks. “You go back to the cafeteria and eat something.”
My eyes widen.
“You didn’t have any breakfast this morning.” He scowls at me. “If you miss lunch too, it’s really going to piss me off.”
His words are ice cold.
I stare at his face, full of hard lines and dark shadows.
A shudder racks my spine. If I ever make the mistake of falling for Dutch Cross, I’ll be falling in love with a madman.
Jinx: When A King Speaks, It’s Not A Request. It’s An Order.
Earlier this morning, the Snare King graced his citizens with a view of his tight, toned… quarters. No one was complaining. Well, no one except Prince Charming.
Our royal band of brothers made their anger known and wasted no time carving the hearts out of their enemies. Why else would Snare King’s one-night concubine be ousted from her position in the court and snubbed by everyone she held dear? I hope that romp in the Snare King’s bed and the five seconds of fame were worth it.
Sadly, she wasn’t the only one to suffer. Miss PomPoms nearly lost her head at the foot of Prince Charming’s royal throne. Her offense? A wrong committed earlier in the week that Prince Charming hadn’t forgotten.
It’s a war out there, folks. Be careful how you tread. When it comes to their pampered princess, this royal gang offers no mercy.
Until the next post, keep your enemies close and your secrets even closer.
– Jinx
