Vengeance (The Prince's Games Book 1) Rebecca Grey (first e reader txt) 📖

My eyes trail across the floor, Calliope eats her dry cereal with a smile plastered onto her face now. She knows. They all know. And they'll be glad to get rid of me.

Perhaps in my death I'll be glad to be rid of them too. Or in my winnings happier yet. Only time will tell.

"Guess you better pack your things. Where is that ol' boy you spoke of? Down by the docks? Or you should ship yourself off to audition… pray they take pity on you." Joss pats my back and leans in to my ear. "I expect you'll save yourself for me in the end." His attention trails down my body, catching at my chest and between my thighs. Sometimes I swear Joss can see through my clothes. Just one glance from him is violating and exciting all at once. "I'll come for you in your victory. I have faith."

And even when my life hangs in the balance, I'm simply his property. Joss is all hard muscle, a rung on the ladder that I need to climb. He's a quick fuck for the few moments I can forget myself. But he isn't my owner. Not in the sense he seems to think. I may like to play the submissive in the heat of the moment, but he isn't my master.

I haven't the energy to fight him. Not the will nor the want. Instead I stare at him blankly until I find myself no longer hungry... no longer anything. I've gotten good at turning off my emotions. Being numb is a party trick no one ever knows that I'm showing off.

"Are they paying for necessities to complete the mission?" I take a step toward the staircase. I don’t own much, hardly anything worth packing in a bag. But there are a few items I can’t leave behind, knowing the chances that someone will rummage through my room while I am away.

"I'll send word now. Nathaniel." Joss turns to another Vampire who's lounged in his seat watching in cold stone silence. He offers him the scroll. "Take this to Genovese. Now. Tell him to leave the supplies at the dock."

Nathaniel, with his muscular build and thick beard glares at the scroll, unmoving for a moment. His ears tint pink and his lips pucker with a pronounced frown. It’s the simple task of messenger. It's the lowest of all jobs. He must have done something to piss off Joss, I think. Still, he takes the document carefully and leaves his breakfast behind.

A slight dip of my chin is all I can manage before I turn on my heels and storm up the stairs. I won't give them the pleasure of my reaction. My footfalls resound in the still quiet kitchen. The build of butterflies inside me explodes with a sudden chaos that sends my pulse racing. I don't want Joss to hear it. Not him or any other Hybrid living under this roof. They'd think me weak.

Sometimes I think I'm weak.

I'll have to pocket those thoughts if I'm going to win. Drowning in self-pity doesn't often lend to quality work or grand achievement. Confidence though, either false or true, that could do the trick.

Moving through the dark hallway, I reach my door and throw myself back inside of my room. What have I done? What kind of power will I win? Will completing this mission finally give me that sense of right in this life that is so often wrong?

My breathing quickly becomes wheezy. I pace my room holding my hands cupped over my mouth, trying to take in the recycled air. Don't think, just do.

Maybe Marcello, with all the good fortune he seems to have will help the Saint of Luck shine upon me too. Maybe in his eventual death I'll be able to transfer all of his blessings upon myself. Win The Oasis Games, kill Marcello, kill the heir, kill King Caspar... it is that simple. One task at a time until the job is complete.

I've done this a thousand times. I've killed nearly a hundred men. I take a deep breath. This is just like any other job and I'll fight for my success as I have every other time. Every kill will fill a crack in my broken Human heart, until it’s overflowing with all the power and success I need to finally lift up the Human race. If there are any more of us left.

Once I pacify my panic and sudden regret, I move to gather my items. I fan out a square blanket over my bed and begin tossing in the few items I mean to keep. My feet come to a sudden stop when I look down and realize I've only gathered two things. Apart from the daggers on my waist and the cloak on my back, all that's left to bring is the stone I use for sharpening my tools and the journal left from Arron.

A shuddering sigh passes over my lips. My hands tremble and I force the shaking away as I pick up the worn old journal and the block. I hold them close to my chest.

Genovese and the others... they'll provide anything else that I truly need. They'll ensure that my mission is successful. That only mildly eases my worries.

With one hand, I tap my fingers at my forehead aggressively. This turmoil of emotion needs to end, now. I force my features into the cool mask of indifference, like I do most days. Arron’s voice still echoes in the back of my mind. You're Human, Nilsa, you have emotions. It's a beautiful and wonderful thing. Some things he said so often they’re engraved in my mind forever.

My emotions don't feel so beautiful and wonderful right now. Or ever, for that matter. There are days that I wonder if Arron was even sane