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

the brief pause of spectators as they eat up Davison's team, admiring their combined brute strength, Marcello leans his head against mine. "You make this so hard on yourself."

"And what? You think I deserve this? To be talked to like this?"

As I talk back Juilliard pinches the bridge of his nose. "Nilsa can you just shut up until this is over? And stop drawing unwanted attention to us. With your attitude the crowd will be cheering for our defeat," he says it quietly but the force behind it, the meaning, is loud.

"Juilliard you can shut up too," Marcello commands. His thumb strokes against my arm twice before he stills and tries to talk again. "You signed up for this. You knew this was going to be hard. So get your shit together."

And just like that I'm supposed to reign it in. Self-Control is the Saint that I pray to in times such as these. I pray and I wish that there could be a Saint that removes the bothersome burden of feeling.

It's hours of this. Hours of torment and hell in this arena. It takes most of the evening as I ignore their snide comments and endure their mockery for me to be able to finally flip the switch inside of me.

As the last row makes its way through the arena floor and my feet ache from all the standing in these heels, I slouch against Marcello. Periodically, I shift my weight from one foot to the other and my knees beg for rest. I regret not drinking more. If I was drunk, perhaps this wouldn't hurt as bad.

The last of the Hybrids make their way through and disappear to rattle off their bets to their teller. Marcello lets go of my wrists and slowly takes a step back. The announcer picks up the microphone, bringing it too close to his lips.

"Teams, you are dismissed to your rooms for the evening. Please be ready by morning's light for the first event!"

There is a static click as the microphone is turned off, making the room shift toward the exits. I look at my team members who remain silent and resigned, only Marcello looks back. The same tormented sadness in his gaze is there like the first time we met. I recognize the feeling deep in my own soul. He breaks the stare and heads for the door.

Juilliard claps Marcello on the back as he goes by, talking mainly to himself, "I need a fucking cigarette."

My heels stay planted on the floor. Hybrids knock into me as they walk by. One shoulder hits me hard enough I stumble forward, snapping me out of the hole my consciousness has buried itself in. A large muscular Orc snarls at me, as if I am the one not watching where I am going. Instantly, I recognize him from Davison's team. I take a step forward with the intention of letting that Orc know exactly who I am and why he should be afraid of me but Davison's voice rises above the rowdy stomp of feet.

"That was rough, wasn't it?" He walks beside me and I forget about my plan with the Orc. "I mean, I knew that I wasn't going to be top pick for winning, but damn Hybrids can sure come up with some creative names. One of them even called me a, and I quote, 'Purist Pillock'. What does that even mean?"

Hell if I know but I'm sure it's nothing good.

"Davison why are you talking to me?" I sigh.

"Because you're the only one that'll understand."

I know he's trying, but his effort is wasted on me. "Tomorrow, the Games begin and we'll be at each other's throats." I snort. "I think it's pointless for us to try and get to know each other. And even if we are the last Humans on Earth, I don't think we're going to be able to get around to repopulating our species."

Davison buzzes with laughter, choking on the sound when I send him a pointed glare. "I didn’t even suggest that we do such a thing. I mean I wouldn’t turn down the opportunity, but what about an alliance instead?"

"Between teams?" I grimace thinking of the Orc and Mavi, neither of which I would want to be aligned with.

He lowers his voice, our bodies knocking together as we join the other players as the crowd bottlenecks at the exit to the arena and heads for the elevators. All the sparkle and glamour of the evening has officially worn off, replaced only by my need to sleep.

"Between you and me. I promise I won't kill you if you promise not to kill me. We have enough enemies out there, we don't need to turn on ourselves. It's our own Human alliance."

"You're crazy." I gather my skirt in my hand to keep the material from getting snagged under someone else’s shoes. I stand tall, trying to look over the bobbing heads for any signs of my own team. Marcello seems as bothered as any by the quick lashing of my anger I wasn't able to contain. These are his people. Marcello was brought up in The Oasis, likely in or near the castle. How many of these people knew him and bet on him? How many had to watch as he put me on a leash to keep me from biting back?

"Hear me out," Davison continues, glancing at his team who moves in the opposite direction to head for their rooms. "It's additional protection. Not a guarantee, but something to help give us that edge to get us farther in the Games."

"If I agree, will you stop talking to me?"

"Is that a yes?"

"It's not a no." I cross my arms, stopping as the line of Hybrids lulls as we wait on elevator doors to carry everyone up and come back down for us.

"Shake on