Chapter 22: Vicious Prince: Chapter 22

Greed is just that — greed.

You never get enough no matter how much you get. You never stop, as if all your brakes have disappeared.

It’s being submerged and finding no way out.

It’s being asleep with the girl you never thought you wanted anywhere near you, let alone wrapped all around you.

Teal’s lids closed soon after the second — or was it the third? — round. The second, definitely the second. I like to believe I’m above necrophilia, so let’s leave it at the second.

Although my boundaries do seem to blur when this girl is involved.

Her hair partially covers her face as she rests her head on my chest and her fingers splay on my abdomen — her tiny, black fingernails.

With her long lashes fluttering on her cheeks, she appears younger, vulnerable, nothing like the Teal everyone knows — and is secretly envious of.

Secretly, because everyone wants to be as unaffected as she is, as confident as she is, but they never actually reach her level. In their cases, it’s either an image or forced. She does it so well because she really doesn’t care about societal standards.

Her care extends to a few people — Ethan, Knox, Elsa, and that fucking Agnus — and she doesn’t even show it that much.

I trace a finger over her cheek and brush the black hair from her face to get a better view of her and commit her to memory.

No idea why there’s this need to box her up somewhere, maybe reach inside her and have first viewing rights to what lurks in her pretty head.

I’ve always hated other people’s secrets, but hers are that forbidden fruit I can’t ignore, whose temptation I can’t resist.

I want to claw into Teal’s skin, and not only physically — I want to invade her head and see past it, inside it, everywhere in it.

Fucked up? Probably, but that’s how I become around this girl.

That’s what the great Ronan Astor is reduced to.

Even my dick, Ron Astor the Second, agrees with any idea that involves being inside her.

I haven’t been flaccid since she showed up in front of me and I thought she was a ghost, a vision, or anything that would keep me company.

Like a good creep, I spend most of the night watching her sleeping face. Ron Astor the Second wouldn’t have let me sleep anyway. The fucker is more than awake, as if he’s high on Viagra.

I inhale her in, letting my lungs expand with everything about her. It’s weird how she doesn’t have those certain scents like other girls. She doesn’t smell of Chanel or Dior. She doesn’t even use any fruity or flowery soaps or shampoos. There’s only this faint lime fragrance that comes off her, and it’s not noticeable enough to be considered a perfume. It’s almost as if she’s trying hard to go undetected.

But she’s not. Not even close.

The scent that invades my nose is more than lime and more her. A bit unhinged, a bit innocent, a bit…secretive.

Teal is the closest thing I’ve seen to fog. She’s there, but when you touch her, it’s almost as if she doesn’t exist.

She mumbles something in her sleep, and I stroke her hair, my fingers getting lost between the silky strands. It’s like they can never get dishevelled.

I wonder how she’d feel waking up to an orgasm. After all, she’s slept for long enough.

It’s not fair that she gets to sleep while Ron Astor the Second and I suffer in silence.

One way to find out.

I shuffle a little, and the leather sofa creaks in protest. I reach between us and twist her nipples. A mumble escapes her lip as my hand falls down and I rub her clit in tiny circles.

Unlike what I expected, she doesn’t buck against my hand and remains completely still, her eyes shut tight and her brows furrowing. I think it’s because of the pleasure she’s trying to contain, but then she whispers unintelligible words. Another mewl falls from her mouth and it soon turns into a sob.

The sound is so haunted and raw it hits me straight in the chest.

“P-please…” she sobs quietly. “I-I’m sorry…so sorry…M-Mum…Mumm…I’m sorry…please.”

I remove my hand as if I’ve been hit with a bat.

What in the actual fuck?

Teal’s eyes snap open, and for a second, they appear like obsidian black holes. They’re filled with tears, but there’s nothing there, a blank, deep hole.

It’s the first time I’ve seen her cry, and it’s the most haunting scene I’ve ever witnessed. It’s almost as if she’s not feeling her own tears, as if she’s not here.

As if she doesn’t exist.

Or maybe she exists, but it’s in a different dimension with different people and a different state of mind.

“Teal?” I call her name when she doesn’t show any sign of recognising her surroundings.

She hasn’t blinked in long seconds, her gaze still a void with no life inside.

I grip her hair a bit tighter. “Look at me, Teal.”

Slowly, too slowly, her eyes slide back to me. The glint seeps into them, but it’s almost as if she’s not seeing anything.

It takes her a few seconds to somehow come out of whatever trance she’s been in.

“R-Ronan?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened…?” Her gaze gets lost between us as if she’s trying to conjure up a memory.

Please tell me she didn’t completely forget about last night; if that’s the case, Ron Astor the Second and I will go bury ourselves six feet under.

“Oh…” She sits up and tucks her hair behind her ear, which I’m starting to think is her only nervous tick — or at least the only one she can’t hide. “I don’t usually fall asleep…” She trails off and peeks at me from underneath her lashes. “Did I say or do something?”

I lie through my teeth. “No.”

Teal isn’t the type who opens up if you confront her. If anything, I think she’s the type who hides. If I bring down her walls, she won’t only build them back up, she’ll also make sure they’re made of impenetrable steel this time.

“I think you just had a nightmare.” I motion at her face.

She places her fingers under her eyes, and when she realises there are tears, she quickly wipes them with the backs of her hands. “Th-That’s weird. I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologising to me about?” If anything, I should be the one apologising. I triggered that somehow.

I pull my jacket from the armrest and wrap it around her shoulders. They’re still trembling, and no matter how much she tries to hide her reaction, she’s spooked and shaken. I’m a fucker, but I’m going to use this chance to draw her out.

Sorry, Ron Astor the Second, you need to wait for your turn.

Mum used to tell me that in order to get close to others, you need to offer a piece of yourself in return. That idea never appealed to me, so I built Ronan, the king with a popularity crown and a harem of girls. It seemed easier and Ron Astor the Second agreed, so it was win-win.

But now, that fucker and I both agree that the others aren’t an option anymore, and it’s not only because of the pact Teal and I made. I honestly have no interest in anyone else but her. It’s a first in my life, and that’s why I know it’s special.

I’ve had non-special before. It was fun, but it was lonely. It always felt lonely afterwards.

With Teal, it’s anything but.

I place my arm around her shoulders and pull her into me. She starts to protest, but I force her into the curve of my body, and she eventually gives up her futile fight.

We’re sitting on the sofa and she’s almost straddling my lap without actually doing so.

I trace shapes on her skin with my finger. “Do you remember your nightmare?”

She shakes her head against my shoulder. It’s a lie. Her expression is sobering up, which means she’s slowly but surely rebuilding her walls.

Not this time.

“I remember my nightmares.” I smile. “In fact, it’s only one, reoccurring over and over again, sometimes in the same night.”

“What is it?” she asks.

“If I tell you, are you going to tell me about your nightmares?”

She swallows and I expect her to refuse, to wear her armour and hide behind her walls, but her head bobs up and down in a nod.

I plaster a smile on my face as I speak. “My nightmare starts in a dark, long street. I’m the only person there, and I’m a child. It’s a bit haunting, a bit too silent, a bit too dark. I run down that street over and over again like a mouse trapped in a maze. I always end up on the same street with the same darkness and the same loneliness. I call for my parents, but neither of them answers. I don’t stop running or calling them, though. I say, ‘Mother. Father. I’m here. You forgot me here.’ They never come. I only wake up when one person comes.”

“Who?” she whispers, her voice almost spooked.

“Lars.” I grin, chasing away the remnants of those images. “He’s the one who wakes me every morning. I always ignore my alarms.”

She glares up at me. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Smiling while you’re saying painful things. You shouldn’t be smiling about that.”

“Well, some philosopher Cole reads about says you can fight pain with smiles.”

“You can’t. You’re only camouflaging it, and sooner or later it’ll come back and bite you.” Her teeth sink into her bottom lip. “I don’t like it when you put a mask on in front of me, Ronan. In fact, I hate it, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay — what do you want? Some sort of a contract?” I tease.

She huffs. “You don’t have to be a smartarse.”

“Your turn, belle.”

A long sigh slips through her lips. “My nightmares also start like yours.”

“Like mine?”

“In the dark. It’s always so black. Everything is.” She stops and doesn’t seem to plan on going on.

“And?”

“It’s just that, dark. I can’t move or speak, and sometimes, I wish I couldn’t feel either. If I didn’t, it’d just go away, you know?”

“But it never goes away.”

“It never does,” she murmurs in reply, even though it wasn’t a question.

We share something, a feeling, a trauma. It’s there in the way she shakes but tries to smother it, the way she bites her lower lip so she doesn’t blurt it out.

One day she will, and one day, I’ll be there to hear it all.

“Does your nightmare have something to do with how you like hurting me?” she asks, her huge eyes staring up at me as if I hold the answers to the world’s problems in the palm of my hands.

I never thought I would want someone to look at me like that until her.

“What makes you think that?” I ask.

“You said you won’t make love to me, won’t whisper French words as you do with the other girls.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You want me to whisper French words to you?”

“That’s not the point.” Her cheeks flush. “Just answer my question. Does it have something to do with your reoccurring nightmare?”

“Maybe.” I pause. “Do you like being hurt because of your nightmare?”

She juts her chin. “Maybe.”

The stubborn damn girl.

Time for a change of tactic. I grip her by the arm and stand up as I flip her to her stomach. An excited squeal leaves her lips as she stares back at me over her shoulder. “W-What are you doing?”

“Bad things, trésor.”

“R-Ronan, don’t.”

“Don’t what, mon petit coeur adoré?”

Her breathing hitches as her eyes widen until they nearly fill her tiny face. I place a hand under her stomach and pull her up so she’s on her knees.

“Didn’t you want me to speak French to you, belle?”

“Not like this,” she murmurs, even though she doesn’t make a move to fight me.

“Not like what? This?” I run my hard dick up and down her wetness, and a shiver goes through her entire body.

“Ronan…”

“I don’t have another condom, but you’re on the shot, aren’t you? It was in that club resume.” I grab her by the hip and slam inside her in one go.

We groan at the same time as we join. There’s something about owning Teal, about being with her.

Greed. Fucking greed.

When it’s combined with lust, there’s absolutely no stopping it.

“Jesus,” she grunts.

“I told you — not him. Me.” I lean over and grab a handful of her hair to pull her by it. The angle must be uncomfortable, but if she feels it, she’s not saying anything. I run my tongue over her ear then bite. “You want French, belle? You think I’m in the right state of mind to think in French when I’m fucking you?”

She moans as she clenches around me. I fuck her fast and dirty like she’s my salvation, like she’s the only one I can have before the end of the fucking world.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s because of the nightmare. Otherwise, why the fuck would I want to keep her when I’ve never wanted to keep anyone?

At that thought, my pace turns ferocious, animalistic even. I pound into her until she falls apart, screaming, then she bites her lip so hard blood coats her pearly white teeth.

I angle her head and kiss it. I taste the metal of her blood as I power into her with all my might.

Someone appears in my peripheral vision. I’m sideways to the door while she’s facing away, still coming down from her high.

Cole.

He stands by the door, holding a book. He leans against the doorframe, crossing his feet at the ankles. Usually, if he’s in one of his voyeurism phases, I’ll tell him to fuck off. I don’t. Instead, I let Teal fall to the sofa and throw the jacket over her back and arse to hide her nudity.

There’s no way in fuck I’ll let him see her naked, but that doesn’t mean he won’t see who she belongs to.

I grab her hip under the jacket and thrust into her a few more times, long and hard, and then empty inside her like I’ve never done before.

And it’s not only because of the lack of a condom. I lied — I have condoms, plural. I never go out without them and I shove them in my fucker friends’ lockers to prevent any teen pregnancy drama, but the idea of putting a barrier between me and Teal again sounded like a tragedy.

Off you go, condoms. This is our official goodbye.

“Nice show.” Cole raises an eyebrow.

Teal gasps as she shrinks into herself, pulling the jacket all around her.

I remain completely naked as I stand up and glare at him. Cole always had a voyeurism kink — amongst others.

“Carry on.” He pauses. “Or should I have applauded first?”

From behind me, I can make out Teal pulling on her clothes and haphazardly putting them on.

Fuck. Did she figure out I did it on purpose? Not that I should care. Both she and Cole need to know their places.

As in, no one will take her away from me anymore.

A few seconds later, she emerges from behind me in her skirt and closed jacket and carries the rest of her clothes in a ball.

“I’ll drive you,” I say.

She cuts me a glare so harsh it’s like a knife. “Screw you.”

And with that, she grabs her bag and doesn’t spare Cole a glance as she storms out of the Meet Up.

I remain standing there, ignoring Cole’s smirk and my state of nakedness. All I can think about is the last look she gave me: anger mingled with disappointment.

Merde.