Vicious Prince (Royal Elite 5)

Sooner or later, it will come to pass.

It fucking will.

That thought makes me hug him closer and kiss him harder and faster, committing him to memory, taking him all with me.

For the first time in my life, I have doubts. I’ve plotted this for so long, but now, those doubts won’t leave me alone.

“Thank you for existing, ma belle,” he whispers against my mouth, and I come then.

I fall willingly, knowing there’s nothing that will hold me.

But I’m wrong, there is something — or rather someone.

Ronan’s hands surround me like a vice as he pounds into me some more before warmth fills my walls then drips between my thighs.

Oh God.

He grabs my nape with a strong palm and drags me closer so he rests his forehead against mine. We’re breathing each other’s air, but it almost feels like it’s not enough — like I’ll never get enough.

And that’s dangerous.

No — it’s more than dangerous. In my case, it’s fucking deadly.

He’s an Astor. So what if he could be Eduard’s son, not Edric’s? He’s still an Astor.

And the problem is, the more time I spend with him, the more that fact blurs. Everything blurs, and he’s the only thing remaining.

Ronan.

Just Ronan.

My chest squeezes at the thought. I don’t want him to be just Ronan. He can’t be just Ronan.

What have I done?

This is what happens when you’re addicted. You don’t realise the heights of your addiction until it’s too late, until it’s the only thing flowing in your veins and you can’t get rid of it unless you fucking bleed out.

I can’t bleed out.

I’ve bled out before.

Now, it’s his turn, not mine.

I push off Ronan and scramble to the passenger seat. My sweaty stiff fingers fumble for my dress and then pull it over my head, ignoring the remnants of the stupid bunny outfit.

Just a few breaths. Just a few. If I do that, I’ll be able to control whatever jumbled mess is going through me. I’ll ignore the feelings and everything that comes with them.

“What are you doing?” Ronan tucks himself in, appearing nonchalant, but his jaw ticks.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that. You’re putting up your walls. Why the fuck are you putting up your walls, Teal?”

God. Damn. It.

How could I be so careless as to allow him to recognise that?

Even Knox doesn’t notice it as much anymore. I’ve perfected it. I’ve become a pro at it.