“Holy shit, it's the Prince of Midnight.”
“I knew it was him!”
“Fuck, dude. He’s gonna rip Alan’s throat out.”
Hair Cut whimpers, trying to wriggle out of my hold. Glasses Guy’s fingers twitch nervously. His cronies look on in slack-jawed terror, knowing full well who—and what—I am.
It’s not surprising people recognize me. Not only am I a royal, but I was required to spend two years of university in the Common World—a diplomatic exchange student system to keep good relations between the lands. Oxford is where I starteddeveloping the reputation of a careless party boy who was always down to bang the gong.
But my devil-may-care persona has all but evaporated, as cold fury pulsates in me with barely restrained violence.
“S-sorry, man,” Hair Cut stutters. “I didn't know she was your girl.”
Goldie is now poised next to Cinder, holding the soda tap like a gun, pointing it at Hair Cut despite the fact I've subdued him. Snow is on the other side of Cinder, icy eyes shooting hate and promising violence as she grips a full bottle of vodka by the neck.
I lean in close, my voice a dangerous purr. “Let me make something clear,friend. It’s never okay to treat any person like an object for your impulsive tiny-balled pleasure, whether they're someone’s girl or not. Do we understand each other?”
Hair Cut blanches, his throat bobbing as he nods frantically while he absorbs the blunter points of consent.
Cinder scoffs, crossing her arms. “I'm not anyone's girl, asshole.” Despite the venom in her tone, I can't help the thrill that zips through me at the thought.
My girl. If only.
“You owe her an apology,” I add.
I release the meathead with a shove, sending him sprawling into his bros. They catch him as they stumble back, nearly tripping over each other in their haste to put distance between us.
“Apologize.” My voice is deadly calm. “Now.”
Hair Cut swallows hard, his eyes flicking to Cinder. “S-sorry. Won't happen again.”
Cinder gives him the look I have dubbedthe purple death. “Whatever. Just get the fuck out of my bar.”
They don't need to be told twice. The group practically falls over themselves in their scramble to vacate, leaving a wake of nervous titters behind them.
“Excuse me a moment, ladies, I think I’ll see them out. Make sure they don’t get lost.” I say smoothly to Cinder and her friends who have now crowded behind her.
The room is a blur as I leave so fast the bouncer doesn’t even see me pass by. I speed up until I’m behind the slow, bumbling group of men.
Hands in my pockets, I stalk them as they turn down a quiet street.
“Dude, we can’t take you anywhere. Why you always gotta start shit?” one of the men asks Hair Cut.
Before he can answer, I do it for him. “Must be compulsive.”
They all freeze and turn to meet my gaze.
“Hello again, gents. If I may have a word with that one.” I point to Cinder’s offender.
Hair Cut’s face fills with blood, fueled by embarrassment and rage. The scent of it washes over me. While part of me wants to sink my fangs into his veiny, pulsating neck because I’m always thirsty, I wouldn’t lower myself to drink from such a disgusting source. I have taste.
“Fuck off, man—” he starts, but I stop him. My pupils open up, and I reach out with my power. I grip him in it and he freezes.
In seconds, Hair Cut is a drooling mess, completely at my whim.
“Now, it may seem like I’m here for you, Alan,” I say, rubbing my chin. “But I’m really here for him.” I point to Hair Cut’s clumsy friend with the glasses.
The three other men turn toward my true target while Alan remains slack-jawed and frozen.
