“Is it true that the new girl is under the Kings’ protection?” she huffs when she confronts me outside the library, where a bunch of other students are milling around. Chelsea Carson doeslovea scene, after all.
“No,” I reply bluntly, decidedly not in the mood for her shit today.Then again, I rarely am.
“Why have Ford and Wes been escorting her to classes all day, then?” she questions, lips twisting in a scowl. “Did you guys really have her schedule changed to fit yours?”
“What about it?” I grumble.
She punches her hands on her hips, acting a little too emboldened for my liking. “Why? What’s going on?” she demands, as if she’s actually owed an explanation for anything we do.
I shrug boredly, moving to step past her. “Just keeping an eye on my new stepsister.”
“Butwhy? What’s so special about that girl?” she presses, snatching a handful of my shirt sleeve in a feeble attempt to stop me.
I flick her hand off with a frown. “Kings business. It’s none of your concern.”
I start to walk away again, but Chelsea lunges into my path, planting herself in front of me and refusing to give up. “It is if you’re making her your Doll,” she spits, her features twisted in anger.
I heave a sigh, scrubbing a hand over my face. I should’ve known this was coming.
Ford, Wes, and I are the most promising triad of our generation, but there’s one thing we’re still missing–our Doll. When new Kings are appointed every three years, girls line up to vie for the coveted position, but only one is chosen to serve them. That lucky girl has the distinct honor of living with her Kings and tending to their every need, and if she passes her initiation and trials alongside them, she not only becomes untouchable, but is also rewarded with a marriage pact after graduation to secure her future. It’s a time-honored custom. My mom was a Doll, and my dad was her King.
A lot of good that did her in the long run.
When Wes, Ford, and I were sworn in as Kings our sophomore year, the Invictus put forth recommendations for our Doll, and Chelsea Carson was at the top of the list. Not surprising, given her dad’s status as a past King and the fact she’s already been initiated into the society. I shut that shit down immediately– not because I give a single fuck about the spoiled princess or would balk at sharing her with my friends, but because I have no interest in claiming a Doll,period. I don’t trust anyone but Ford and Wes, and I refuse to allow some randombitch to invade our space and infringe on the good thing we’ve got going. The Invictus will just have to fucking accept it if they want us to ascend. Given the failed trials of the last four sets of Kings that came before us,they want us to ascend.
All the prior Kings chose their Doll in their first year, so we’ve decidedly gone against the grain by entering our second year of rule without one. The high council of the Invictus has started putting more pressure on us to choose– probably because Chels keeps whining to her dad about it– but we’ve continued kicking the can down the road, telling them that we’re still coming to a decision.
A decision that’ll never be made, if I can help it.
“Jesus, Chels, fucking let it go,” I groan, shoulder-barging past her.
She doesn’t. Instead, she yells after me in that annoyingly high-pitched voice of hers, drawing even more attention our way. “No, Raf, this is bullshit and you know it!”
I grind to a halt, whipping back around and stomping in her direction, getting right up in her space. “She’s not our fucking Doll, alright?” I hiss through gritted teeth. “We’re just putting her in her place.”
“So, is she sucking all your dicks then, or just Wes’?” she demands loudly.
My jaw clenches, hands curling into fists at my sides.
This definitely isn’t the time to test me. I’ve got a fight booked for Thursday night, but it’ll be a miracle if I can keep my rage contained until then. Chelsea’s playing with fucking fire.
Breathe, Raf.
You’re in control.
Grabbing Chels by the elbow, I yank her toward the front of the building, digging my fingers in with a grip that’s sure to bruise. Still, she doesn’t fight me. A smug smirk pulls at her lipsas she trots happily by my side, pleased that she finally snared my undivided attention.
I drag her into the breezeway of the library, away from prying eyes since she’s obviously intent on making a scene.
“You know damn well what this is, Chels,” I growl as I slam her up against the wall between the two sets of double doors, crowding her in as shadows bleed into my vision. “If I wanna get my dick sucked, then I will. And if you like being the queen bee around here, then you won’t say a damn word about it.”
“But she’s your stepsister!” Chelsea whines. “That’s disgusting, Raf, how do you think that makesmelook?”
“I don’t give a shit,” I snap back. “And even if I did, it wouldn’t matter, because she’s not getting anywhere near my dick. Wes and Ford can play with her all they want, but I have no interest in that slut.”
Chelsea visibly relaxes, a beat of silence falling between us as she reaches up to fiddle with the strap of my backpack on my shoulder. “You know I always wanted to be the Doll,” she mumbles, her eyes downcast. “When you told me you guys probably wouldn’t be taking one on this year, I was disappointed, but I got over it.” Her gaze lifts to meet mine, blue eyes wide. “If you’re claiming someone else as your Doll, though…”
“We’re not.”
