Dirty Wicked Prince (Court Legacy 1)

The words seemed to escape him.

I got up, approaching his side. “If it wasn’t for what?”

He said nothing, his swallow hard, and mine was too. I’d technically messed everything up for him that night with Mayberry. He was right.

I had made noise.

I wasn’t sure if I agreed about how he and the Legacy were going about this. I wasn’t sure this was right at all, but I had no right to put in my input, let alone judge. Charlie wasn’t my family.

And if it’d been Bru…

I couldn’t even fathom what I’d do to gain the truth in his honor. Imagine, knowing the person actually responsible for your family’s murder was so close by.

No, I couldn’t make any judgments here. Not one.

“I’m sorry,” I said because I truly was.

He faced me. “Sorry?”

I played with my hands. “For getting in the way? For making noise? I can’t imagine what you and the guys are going through. God, this fucking sucks.”

He twitched, like he actually couldn’t believe what I said. He eyed me. “I must be hearing some shit because I just told you I was going to kidnap our headmaster, and you’re telling me sorry that you got in the way of that.” He laughed, nearly sounding manic. Bending, he cracked open another beer. He saluted me with it. “You must be as fucking psycho as me.”

I watched as he sucked down a long draw. I was as sad for him and his situation as I was confused by him. Maybe he had something about me being weird, but I couldn’t help but feel for him. Understand him. I didn’t want to, but I did.

And if that made me psycho…

I honestly did question it. Especially when I ripped the bottle away from him.

“What the fuck—”

Cut off, Dorian’s eyes expanded as he watched me rear back his full bottle of beer.

I threw it at the side of the glass house.

The booze exploded against the wall, yeasty liquid flowing down it. He growled at me, most likely because I wasted a perfectly good beer.

I wasted more.

I took my own bottle, intentionally throwing it at the door where a glass window resided. The beer didn’t shatter this time. It went right through the window, glass literally busting out as the bottle disappeared inside the dark home.

I went for the last bottle of beer in the case, but Dorian grabbed my arm. His fingers bit into my flesh when he jerked me roughly around to face him.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” His eyes expanded, completely wild. “What are you—”

“Don’t you want to get a hit in?”

“What?”

I ripped my arm away. “I said, don’t you want to get a hit in?” I directed a finger toward that house. “That house should burn. Fuck, worse should happen to it.”

His family died in there. Mayberry hooked up with his family here, and had I been him, I’d want to set this whole place on fire.

“Don’t you want to destroy this place, Dorian? Get a hit in for Charlie?” I picked up the bottle, holding it out. “No one would blame you. Least of all me.”

Maybe I was crazy. Maybe I was as psycho as he said. He didn’t take the bottle, and I reared back again. I was about to fuck up this place for him.

He didn’t let me.