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

a flash of movement, Juilliard grabs the straps of my dress, fisting it in his hands as he pulls me up so I'm standing on my tiptoes an inch away from his face. His mouth opens to speak, but a gentle voice cuts him off.

"That's not how we treat ladies." Finnegan purrs next to Juilliard's side. He lifts a hand, forcing Juilliard to lower his arms.

"She is not a lady. She is a beast," Juilliard sneers.

With a hiss, I spit at his face. His hands fall away completely as he reaches to wipe at his features that are twisting with his own wrath. I'm not scared of Juilliard. I'm not scared of any of these fucking creatures.

"You think I'm the beast when I'm merely acting out in defense," I say.

"That is enough!" A booming voice shakes the room, causing me to blink and step away.

Finnegan smoothly steps in-between Juilliard and I to fill the space before we can be at each other's throats again. Everyone in the room twists to look at Marcello. His suit jacket and the button up have long been removed from his chest, leaving the entire span of lean muscle on top of muscle that veers down his torso exposed. His pants hang loosely around his hips. He flicks that starlit gaze between me and his friend.

"We will not win the Games by being at each other's throats." He isn't yelling any longer. His voice is not much more than a breathy sigh. With a sharp inhale, he plants his hands on his hips. "You will find a way to make this work. You two will find a way to get along." He narrows his gaze on Juilliard. "Go to bed, that's an order."

Juilliard stiffens, slipping around Finnegan and heading for the door behind Marcello. He doesn't even give me one last scowl-filled glance. But I watch his shoulders wishing that one look from me could turn him to dust.

"So you're giving orders now?" I sniffle.

"I am the leader of this team. Am I not?" Marcello grinds out.

The Vampire next to me smooths back his hair and offers me his palm. Finnegan waits with the patience that only a being that has lived through several centuries can muster. "May I have a look?"

"Not if you're going to try and get a taste of your own." I lift my chin.

His red eyes flare. "Not at all. Just want to understand the meaning of the puncture."

I hold my wrist up, feeling my own pulse still racing under his touch. He runs a finger over the small wound. The brush of his finger stings, nevertheless, I hold still. His brows pinch together and he cocks his head.

"This was a bite taken by force," Finnegan whispers.

Marcello's heavy steps pound against the floor as he makes his way to us. He looks toward Finnegan. "Are you sure?"

The Vampire chuckles. "Yes. I am familiar with the feeling of both bites that are given with little to no malicious intent," he traces a finger over my neck where the evidence of Joss and I's relationship is scarred. "Like these. Given in a sexual manner."

Marcello's eyes snap up to my face and I stare back. I won't be ashamed. I won't. But something softens in his gaze when Finnegan continues.

"The marks on her wrist were taken forcefully, without her consent," he concludes.

"How do you know?" I ask.

Without a sound Sloane is up from the couch and slithering up to her partner’s side. She looks down at my wrist with a blank expression. Finnegan smiles gently at her.

"Call it Vampire intuition." His wife finally says. "Who did this to you? We're a team now, so your wounds are ours too."

I snort at that. Clearly, we are not a team.

"Nils, what happened?" Marcello whispers.

"I got in the elevator to return to my room. Ran into your dearest friend Mavi after I booted a rude little Dwarf out of my spot."

"You can't just kick someone off the elevator so that you can ride it."

"Marcello," I growl his name, making his shoulders pull back. "They pushed me away first. That spot was mine."

"Well sometimes it's better if you just stay silent," he urges, wrinkles forming on his tan forehead.

"You're wrong. If I'm always silent they'll continue to do what is wrong. I have to say something, do something. And I'm tired of letting Hybrids get away with treating me like that."

"I don't think you should always be quiet." He pauses to watch as Finnegan and Sloane excuse themselves to their room. Hedda still waits silently in the doorway. "Think of it more like biding your time. You can kill them all off tomorrow if you wish. Mavi too, for all I care." Marcello scrubs at his face. "Eat, drink, then get to bed."

I hold myself in place. "Is that an order?"

Marcello turns away, speaking only over his shoulder. "Yes."

I stand still as I watch him retreat into his room where Juilliard is likely sulking. Suddenly, I don't feel like eating or drinking anymore, even if I know it will make me feel better faster. My stomach is heavy like lead and the anticipation of the following day is building up tight in my chest, locked inside me without a key. I drag my attention to Hedda.

"I'll knock Juilliard a good one tomorrow. He had no right to scream at you like that. He didn't even ask what happened first." She straightens. She's changed out of her formal wear and into a ragged set of pajamas. The strands of her white hair are slicked back, gathered into a loose ponytail behind her.

Ignoring Marcello's 'order', I shuffle forward. Hedda moves so I can enter our shared room. I turn, giving her my back and staring out into the now empty living area.

"Can you undo