Royal had his hands in his pockets, and though I couldn’t see his response, he did have his blond head slightly down. He shrugged. “I have to get my stuff first.”
His father threw his hands up and I braced myself, and I noticed Royal stiffen too. It wouldn’t be the first time his dad had struck him. I’d witnessed an occurrence firsthand, but it seemed in this case, Mr. Prinze only raised his hands out of frustration.
“Straight to the car after,” he said, then stalked the opposite way down the hallway. With him clear, I closed the door, and I think it’d been the noise that forced Royal to turn my way. He stared right at me, stiffening again.
I stared too.
It’d been for a different reason, I’d wager, his eye taking my attention. True, Ramses had gotten his licks in on Royal. He had a bruise the size of a state on his cheek, and his clothes he’d returned to their proper places on his body, but they were still ripped and torn. Ramses had definitely gotten him good, but he hadn’t done that, his eye. That’d been there before the fight.
That may have even started the fight.
Catching me looking at his black eye, Royal avoided eye contact and, returning his hands to his pockets, stalked around me with just as much force as his dad had on the opposite side of the hallway. He was running away, avoiding me, but he wasn’t going to get away that easy.
I stalked after him too. “Royal Prinze, you have some nerve.”
The hall silent besides us, he continued to move, but I didn’t let him. I grabbed him by the arm, turning him and making him face me. “What’s your problem?” I shot, seething. “You think you have some kind of ownership on me? Like you have any right at all to do such a thing because of me?”
He turned but I cut in front this time. If he was going to avoid this conversation, he’d have to go through me this time. I put hands on my hips. “What the hell is your deal? Because if this is some kind of savior complex because Paige was your friend and I’m her sister, I call bullshit on that. You don’t care about me. You’ve shown that on more than one occurrence, and not only did you hurt Ramses again today, I think you did it as just another power play. To throw your weight around like you did with that fucking haze—”
“You know nothing.” He moved, but I pushed him back this time. His eyes narrowed. “Back off, December.”
&
nbsp; “You back off.” I pushed him again for good measure, and though he stayed his ground, he looked about two seconds from exploding. Good. I got up in his face. “You’re a jerk and you’re cruel and you’re so out of line regarding this thing with Ramses it’s not even funny. He didn’t do anything wrong. He’s with me, and if you think you have any right to do anything about that, you have another thing fucking coming. Newsflash, Royal Prinze, you don’t own me—”
“Well, maybe you own me!”
I blanched, completely thrown off by what he said. It took me a moment to realize he’d even said it…
But he had, and I knew just as well as he stood in front of me. He was shaking, seething himself. He threw fingers into his hair. “Never mind.”
No never mind, and I got hands on him again, making him face me.
He swallowed. “You don’t know anything, and you’re definitely understating the potential of that guy who fucking goaded me first. Ramses Mallick was a jerk when he went to school here, December, and I know that just as well as many of the guys here. They haven’t forgotten. None of us have, and do you know what they wanted to do to him because of that? What they would have done if not for me in order to get that ring on his finger?”
I didn’t, shaking my head. “What?”
He leaned in. “They wanted to beat him, whip him with an actual whip until his skin fell off, and even then, I don’t know if it would have stopped.”
My stomach turned, sickness brewing, and Royal only worked his jaw.
“He was a bully,” he said, stepping back. “Facts, and no amount of turning over a new leaf would make people around here forget that. Memories run deep here, so don’t for a fucking second let that guy you’re apparently dating off as being some goddamn saint in this place—”
“So why did you stop it, then?” I asked, in his face again. I was so close. “Why did you intervene? Why not hurt him like the rest? Why… why did you say what you just said to me?”
That I owned him… That I could possibly in this place and with who he was? This powerful boy could never be owned. He was cruel…
Right?
The lines were starting to blur here, and nothing made sense, especially Royal when he grabbed my arms, forcing me to look up at him.
“I think you know why, Em,” he said, and steps coming down the hall, he let go of me. He stared over my shoulder, and when I turned, his dad stood there. I had no idea how much he’d seen, but his expression wasn’t at all happy.
“Is there a problem?” the man asked, and Royal immediately put distance between us.
Royal put hands behind his back. “No problem, sir. I’m getting my things.”
So formal, so submissive. The state of Royal’s eye took my sight again, a dark mark Ramses didn’t inflict. He’d gotten it from someone else.