Dirty Wicked Prince (Court Legacy 1)

Traffic started to pick up as my phone stated the school was a couple miles away, and Callum mentioned our class schedules after hearing that.

“I’ve got all of that arranged for you,” he said. “And, Bru, I got you into all the accelerated classes, but the school assures me if it’s too much, you simply need to speak up and they’ll make accommodations for you. Tutors or anything you need. Sloane, I also got you into a few art classes. I hope they’re advanced enough for you.”

I wasn’t a prodigy or anything, and certainly not a wiz kid like Bru, but I did enjoy art. All kinds.

The fact Callum had listened to our interests in the short time we knew him meant a lot, and I thanked him again for the gesture. By the end, both him and Bru convinced me to accept the car. I supposed it made sense for us to have two. Callum even urged us to try out for any sports or join clubs we were interested in despite the school year already in full swing. Classes may have only been in session a short while, but I could imagine all those extracurriculars had already started.

It seemed Callum had arranged that too. Before we wrapped the call, he said we’d just have to speak to the headmaster, and she could arrange for us a meeting with any coaches or club heads.

I left out the fact I’d already m

et Principal Mayberry, but had a feeling for once in my life, things might be going a nice way. I was at a new school, but I’d already met the principal. I was in a new town, but Bru and I had someone in our corner who was willing to help us have an easier time in the transition.

“I’ll be checking in,” Callum said at the end of the call. “You both have a great day.”

“You too, Callum,” Bru and I both returned. Callum also said before he left, that he was working on coming out to visit us soon. Apparently, he moved us to Maywood Heights because he lived here for a time way back when. He’d even gone to the academy.

And holy fuck, this school.

The old brick building divided up into several quads definitely put the brochures to shame. There was both a north and south campus, and a stadium-sized football field with multiple practice fields to accompany it.

Bru and I passed them all, the soccer pitch and baseball field too. The school also had a rowing team, and Bru and I cruised by a lake filled with rowers with long limbs and extended reaches.

“We’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.” Bru whistled, our Chevelle passing about a gazillion students rocking the Windsor Preparatory Academy’s navy and orange crest. I heard some kind of gorilla was the school’s mascot, and I saw enough King Kongs on the way to student parking to prove that true. Known as simply “The King,” the big honky ape was everywhere. People had it stamped on their backpacks and clothes. It also adorned flags hanging around the campus, and its life-sized form stood robust as multiple sculptures decorating well-trimmed grass.

I adjusted my necktie after I found a parking spot. I ended up sliding between two luxury vehicles worth easily more than my life, and suddenly, I wished we would have driven Callum’s gift. If anything, just to fit in.

I got out of the Chevelle once the car was off, as did my brother. Our bags were in the trunk, and I sent Bru to get them.

“Eh, bitch? You’re in my fucking spot.”

I jerked around. A, I wanted to see who in the fuck called me bitch, and B, I needed to tell whoever off for claiming spots like an idiot.

I saw a beast.

Well, not an actual beast but close enough.

Bastard hung out of another expensive ride, a cobalt-blue Hummer truck with black interior. On the hood, an animal symbol stamped into the paint, a wolf scrolled in cool silver, and by the size of this guy, he could leap over the design in a single bound. He had himself angled out of the car, getting to his feet.

Yeah, he was big.

His stance easily leveled him well above his truck. He slammed the door, dark and shaggy hair breezing in the wind. It was also wet like the lazy ass couldn’t dry his hair before coming to school.

Not to mention dress properly.

His tie hung loose around his neck, his dress shirt open and his ribbed tank on full display. Yeah, this guy was definitely a lazy ass. He slammed a hand on the hood of his car. “Move, bitch. I said this spot is mine.”

Male laughter sounded from not far away, two dudes in particular. One was about the size of a Mack truck and was also quite pretty with dangly piercings in his ears and his dark hair slicked about in a messy fashion. He had his head turned toward an ultra-blond dude. Not like beach bottle blond, no.

The guy looked like he walked off the set of Game of Thrones without his dragons. Cuffing the sleeves of his uniform jacket, he wasn’t trying to hide the fact he found all this funny with the big dude. They had one other member of their male harem, and this particular dude wasn’t laughing at all.

He was smoking.

Thick white smoke curled richly from between his full lips. He licked one when he removed his joint, and tendrils of natural-blond hair breezed lazily over his eyes. He was completely devil-may-care from his military boots to the fact he had his jacket sleeves bunched up. I’d read the Windsor Prep handbook and both were against it.

Not that he cared.

Extremely good-looking, he had a chiseled jaw that just may well be sharp enough to cut polished crystal, his jawline clean shaven as he straddled the line between boy and man. His body told one thing, but his face another. He filled out his academy jacket to the point where it bulged around his big shoulders and thick arms, and his pants basically painted on his muscular thighs.