Dirty Wicked Prince (Court Legacy 1)

Me: What happened?

Ares: I can’t go into details. It started with a fight about that shit that happened with your brother, though. Got pretty nasty. Physical.

Whoa.

Ares: It ended up escalating into some deeper shit. Real bad shit going on with him, and between the combination, it’s put him on another level.

I wondered what the deeper shit was and recalled Dorian had felt off tonight. I’d asked about it, but of course, he hadn’t gone into details.

He’d certainly been weird, though.

He felt off, and something told me those details Ares couldn’t get into had something to do with that.

Ares: I’m worried. He shouldn’t be alone, but if I try to go see him after that shit with Bru, he’s not going to have it. That’s why I’m texting you.

Me: Me?

Ares: Yeah.

The next thing I knew, he shot over an address.

It was close.

Like literally down the street, and I had no idea why he was sending this.

Ares: I tracked his phone here. You should go. If he won’t see me, at least you should be there. Wells and Thatcher tried contacting him too, and no dice. He told them both to fuck off.

Me: I don’t get why you’re texting me. Why would he want to see me if he’s refusing you guys?

Dorian hated me. We hated each other.

Ares: You seem pretty intelligent, Sloane. Figure it out.

The first thing I noticed was that he paid me another compliment.

The second was that he called me by my name.

*

The address Ares had shot me was so close I actually walked to it.

I found Dorian on the lawn.

He sat in the middle of it, a six-pack beside him and a bottle in his hand. He drew it back in the moonlight and didn’t even notice me until I was right up on him.

He barely looked like himself, hair tossed and strewn about.

His eyes haunted.

He almost stared through me when he drew back his beer, wiping his full lips in the moonlight after. He’d changed since I’d last seen him. A white tee cuffed his mighty arms and strong back. He tilted his head, staying level with my approach. “The fuck you doing here?”

He wasn’t quite drunk, but he was obviously working at it with all the beer at his feet. He sat in front of a dark house, the for sale sign in the yard.

He kicked at the sign. “I came here to be by myself.”

Obviously.

I stayed anyway, hugging my arms in the chilly air. The house he sat in front of was lovely, large glass walls like Bru’s and mine. It also sat on a hill. The scenic view was high up here and completely picturesque, beautiful.