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

He strikes it up against the wall, holding to the end of the cigarette until it glows red and a light fume rises above it.

How rebellious, Juilliard.

Marcello places his hand between my shoulders and ushers me into the room, letting the door close quietly behind us. I take a large step to get out of his reach. I don't take kindly to being touched when I haven't asked for it. Nor do I particularly like to be touching others. Oftentimes, if a Hybrid is reaching for you without your explicit consent... nothing good waits for you. I learned that lesson young. The scar on my face is there to prove it.

"You'll be safe in here, Pureblood." Marcello winks without acknowledging how I jumped away from him. "I've always heard that Humans are so delicate. It's a miracle or a testament to what you can do that you've survived this long on your own."

But I hadn't been alone. At least not my entire life. I'd had parents till I was five. Then I'd had Arron for a few years after that.

Juilliard blows out a cloud that rises in front of his face and fills the room with the bitter scent. "I'm not sure how you even expect to survive the Games." He smirks.

I wish they'd stop with the cutting remarks about my humanity, as if I'm not already aware of my own body’s limitations in comparison to theirs.

"I expect to survive because I expect to win. We will win." I cross my arms.

“Win,” Marcello snorts.

“Is that not why you compete? Or do you just not need the riches?” I press. "What's the point in playing if the goal isn't to win?"

Juilliard answers for him. "Oh we want the coin alright. Shit-ton of money. We're going to get you out of The Bend, Nils." I scowl at the nickname, while his voice fills with sarcasm. "You and me. Living large in The Oasis. Doesn't that sound like the perfect dream?"

The horror that flashes over my face makes the friends share a laugh. I practically gag at the thought.

"Should I be jealous of the chemistry between you two?" Marcello points between Juilliard and I. "I wasn't expecting that. Juilliard is a good boyfriend though."

"You know from experience?" I say curtly.

Marcello's smile only widens and Juilliard rolls his eyes. "Don't knock it till you try it." The newly crowned captain bites on the edge of his tongue, and my gaze is automatically drawn to his full mouth.

Tapping starts against the door, leading me to wonder if anyone else knows how to enter this room exactly. Marcello pulls at the metal door handle. Heat from the day floods the room and I hadn't caught how comfortable the room had become in such a short time. How does it stay so cool?

"Oh, thank you," he hums as a few crew members pull my trunk inside the room and then leave without a word.

The ship lurches and I take one large step to plant my feet to keep myself from toppling from the movement. My trunk stays put while all the bottles chime together as they slide on the wooden boards.

"Anchors away," Juilliard whispers, putting his cigarette out and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"You know you can take your hood off now. No one to hide from here. No sun to blister your porcelain skin." Marcello presses his back against the door, bending one knee so that his boot rests against it too.

"I know that."

The men arch their brows as if they don't believe me. Obviously, I know I can take my hood off. I just don't often make a habit of doing it outside of the old apartment building. Marcello had called me pretty earlier, that was only when he was guessing at what my face looks like. Will they flinch when they get a better view of the scar? Joss likes to tell me it makes me look more like a threat. I like to be threatening.

"So take the hood down," he urges.

My hands shake once before I force them to be calm as I grip the fabric around my face. I flick it off the top of my head, not letting my expression change even slightly. I won't let myself react. More so I won't let myself react to any reaction the Elves have either good or bad. With my hood down my long blonde ponytail falls down my back.

A smile like butter melting on hot pavement spreads on Marcello's face. It feels like he's mocking me, but he doesn't say a word.

"Happy?" I say.

"I forget how you can see the aging in Humans." Juilliard lays back on his elbows on the bed.

I'm not old enough to have that much ageing! The weight of his insult stings in my chest deeper than any blade has ever cut. Humans do age, unlike many of the creatures in existence today. I'd say I only look a few years older than these Elves here, but I definitely don't look old. I'm not ashamed of my aging either. If anything, I should be proud. So why does that comment sting?

Marcello dips his head in thanks, holding my gaze. His eyes never lower down to the scaring, though I don't doubt that he knows it's there.

The muscles in my arms grow tired, aching, from holding my whetstone and journal close to my chest. I break the locked gaze Marcello and I start to stiffly move to the trunk and set my items down. I shake my arms down at my side.

"So, what's next?"

 

Above our heads I can hear the crew storming up and down the stairs as they complete the tasks that keep the ship coasting along. Water slaps against the outside of the hull, rocking us