Twisted Kingdom (Royal Elite 3)

No, no.

Please, please.

It’s useless to beg when the disaster hits you straight in the face. It doesn’t delay the inevitable and surely doesn’t erase it.

He’s here.

I feel it over my skin, and straight into my insides. As I slowly turn around, I hold on to my delusional bubble, my safe space.

I should’ve known better. There’s no safe place from monsters.

The darkness is their playground, and the world is their theatre. If they choose to, they’ll drag you into the shadows and it’ll be all over.

I thought the worst monsters were the ones from my childhood. Turns out, my worst monster had the most hypnotic metallic eyes and the inkiest black hair. He has a penetrating gaze that dissects me and sees straight into the darkest depths of my soul.

My monster is all tall, powerful, and beautiful.

My monster is Aiden King.

9

Elsa

Considering all the tiny bursts of panic I experienced tonight, I should’ve been ready for Aiden’s appearance.

I’m not.

Not really.

Not at all.

I fist both sides of my dress just to have something to twist.

Jonathan saunters inside with his infuriating confidence on display as if he owns the place and everyone in it. He looks down his arrogant nose at everyone in his vicinity.

Aiden and Levi stride on either side of him like generals waltzing into a war zone. Astrid hangs onto Levi’s arm seeming more uncomfortable than I am currently feeling.

The three King men are wearing sharp black tuxedos that flatter their developed physiques. My attention bounces back to Aiden. I try to fight it, you know.

I try to look at Astrid’s beautiful dress, at Levi’s easy grin, or even at Jonathan treating everyone as peasants.

I can’t.

Something pulls at my strings and leads me straight back to Aiden.

I hate that something. I loathe it from the bottom of my defective heart.

Said defective heart flutters, and I squash it while I focus on Aiden. On the way he strides with confident ease. On his slicked, stylish hair. On the cloth that tightens around his biceps and his muscular, tall thighs.

He put on an effort tonight. He wants to be as presentable as possible — and lethally attractive. He’s using his appearance to help his manipulations.

The moment his eyes meet mine, I freeze. It’s like those grey clouds have entered the hall and will now transform into a storm, wreaking havoc in its wake.

Or perhaps, that storm is only meant for me.

I keep sucking air, but I’m not breathing properly. I’m not breathing at all.

Silver is the queen to the King’s name.