Thankfully, the next period goes by uneventfully, mostly because there are no Dynasty heirs in my theology class. Dani is in my class, though, and when we compare schedules, we find that we actually share most of our classes. I find myself liking that. I’ve always walked the high school halls alone and never thought anything of it. But Dani is right—having a friend does make things more bearable and I like her. She seems different from the rest of the spoiled rich kids at Regency. Maybe it’s because she understands what it’s like not to be born with a silver spoon in your mouth. We’re from two totally different planets, but in some ways, our backgrounds aren’t that far apart.

When I walk into my last class of the day with Dani, I’m not so glad to find that sociology isn’t so Dynasty heir free. The first thing I see when I walk in is Raph, sitting, no, more like lounging, in one of the front row desk chairs. Layla is perched on the desk in front of him, sitting in a very deliberate angle, so as to expose as much of her long legs as humanly possible. I think I might throw up my lunch.

Those blue eyes fix directly on me as I enter the room. His face was utterly blank just a moment ago as he regarded Layla’s peep show. A block of stone would have been more expressive in comparison. But those irritatingly perfect features draw together in a scowl when he sees me. Great. He hates me so much, that even his stone cold mask can’t hide it.

Layla follows his line of sight and her pert nose wrinkles at the sight of me, as if she’s just caught a whiff of a dead animal. Nice.

I purposely ignore them as I try to find some seats. We’re the last to arrive, so I’m expecting only the seats at the back to be free. But I’m surprised to see two spare seats at the front. In the same row as Raph.

I’d rather chew my own arm off than sit in the same row as the asshole King and his bitch Queen. But I don’t have the luxury of being able to make other students move with just a look. Not that I’d want to do such a dickish thing. So, I take the seat at the front and Dani drops down next to me.

When the class starts, I keep my eyes fixed to the front, at Professor Gorman, as he drones on about this year’s syllabus. But I can feel Raph’s eyes burning a hole into me all the while. I ignore him completely, not wanting to give this asshole the satisfaction of thinking I’ve even noticed that he’s in this class, or in the same school, for that matter.

We’re halfway through class when Professor Gorman asks everyone to open their textbooks to this week’s topic. I follow the instructions on autopilot and I can hear my own scream when an explosion of pure white light flares from my open textbook, blinding me in an instant.

I feel my ass hit the cold hard floor with a painful thud as I fall off my chair in an attempt to get away from the death lights. Laughter explodes around me, and when my vision returns, I can see that my ass is sprawled out on the floor. The whole class is in hysterics. Everyone, apart from Dani, who is looking at me with concern.

I’m not laughing, though. I’m furious. I get up from the floor with as much dignity as I can muster. My eyes shoot directly to Raph. The mask of stone is gone, replaced by a cocky as hell smirk, which just infuriates me all the more. He looks like he’s having the time of his life. Next to him, Layla looks as pleased as a cat being rewarded with its favorite treat. She’s almost purring with delight.

A stream of obscenities rings through my mind and I’m not even thinking straight when I pick up my five hundred page text book and hurl it directly at Raph’s smirking face. The laughter stops immediately, and I hear some gasps as the book, which is as heavy as a brick, flies through the air towards Raph.

I must have a good arm because it looks like that brick is going to smash straight into that perfect face of his.

But his reflexes are impossibly fast. He snaps out a hand and catches the projectile in mid-flight, just a hair’s breadth away from his face. An instant later, my text book explodes into a ball of flame in his hand.

I watch in disbelief as the inferno engulfs his bare hand, my text book turning into ashes as his gaze locks onto mine. He’s not smiling anymore. The deathly calm in those glacier-like eyes, coupled with the fact that he can apparently summon an inferno in the blink of an eye, is positively unnerving. I feel a chill race down my spine when I finally understand exactly who and what I’m up against here.

My gaze falls on Professor Gorman who is watching the whole thing passively. Again, as if this sort of thing happens in class all the time.

“Are you just going to stand there?” I ask, feeling my own outrage.

“This asshole almost blinded me and he’s just set my text book on fire!”

I catch Raph snickering in the corner of my eye, because I must look totally naïve. Of course, Professor Gorman isn’t going to do anything. As Dani told me earlier, even the teachers are scared of these spoiled pricks.

“Sit back down, Jazmine,” Professor Gorman replies flatly, completely unfazed by my outburst.

I think I lose whatever fraction of calm I have left then. Without another word, I pick up my bag and get the hell out of there, because if I have to look at Raph’s mocking smile or Layla’s equally smug expression a moment longer, I’m going to lose my shit.

* * *

After spending the rest of the afternoon in the library, I finally muster the courage to head back to Sovereign Hall.

As I approach the sparkling white mansion, the first thing I notice is the cars on the white stone driveway. The garage on the side of the mansion, which was empty last night, is also now occupied. There’s a sleek black motorcycle at the front of the driveway. Next to it is an equally sleek matte black sports car, which looks like it costs more than the price of most homes. A large blacked out Range Rover is behind it, along with a white convertible. There are two other cars in the garage. I can’t make out what they are. But one thing is clear, the spoiled brats are home.

I seriously consider trying to climb in through my bedroom window. But I shake the thought away. I live here, too, and I’m not going to hide from these bastards.

I take a deep breath and step through the front door. Conversation stops as I enter, and I can feel eyes on me as I walk through the reception hall. I don’t make eye contact with anyone, I but can see Baron and Lance turn from the video game that they’re playing on the massive flat screen TV, to look at me. Ivy, who is sitting on Lance’s lap, gives me the look of death. Keller is propped up on the kitchen island, where Layla is sitting on one of the stools. Both are clearly not happy to see me.

I don’t say a word as I try to walk up the spiral staircase as calmly as possible. I’m not going to run, but it’s an effort to keep my pace unhurried and my face blank.

Focusing much too hard on putting one foot in front of the other, I don’t notice the tall muscular figure coming down the stairs until I crash into a rock-hard chest and find myself looking up at a pair of impossibly blue eyes.

I push myself back, as if I’ve just hit a wall of fire, but that’s not a great idea, given that I’m standing on a staircase. I feel myself losing balance but before I go plummeting backwards down the cold marble steps, I feel a solid arm around my waist, keeping me from falling. I can feel all eyes in the room staring, but they suddenly feel so far away.

Raph says nothing as he pulls me against his chest. Even through his white shirt, I can feel the heat of his skin. In the same way that he almost seems to glow with the sun’s light, he seems to carry the warmth of it, too. We’re standing so close, that we’re sharing breath and I know he can feel my heart thundering against my chest. The feel of his hard body flush against mine makes warmth pool in parts of my body which makes me hate my traitorous reaction.

I can feel the flush creeping into my cheeks and I’m embarrassed as hell. Not to mention furious at myself for the insane reaction, because only a few hours ago, this asshole almost blinded me.

I place my hand against that rock hard chest to push him away and I think I might just be imagining it, but I can swear that I can feel his heartbeat racing as fast as mine. I squash the thought immediately and remind myself that it’s impossible, because this asshole doesn’t have a heart.

“Get your hands off me, asshole,” I hiss. My voice is quiet, but everyone in the room hears it.

Just like that night after the ceremony, I expect him to be pissed at the insult. But he flashes me a cocky smile instead. Like a Cheshire cat. For a second, I find it hard to remember that this guy is the devil incarnate himself. I find it hard to even think. Because that smile. It takes my goddamn breath away. It’s the kind of smile capable of making even angels fall in love on the spot. The kind of smile that is capable of illuminating even the greyest of skies. Like the goddamn sun coming out after a storm, which is fitting, given that this asshole lords over the sun itself.

But when he opens his mouth, sense and reason return with a vengeance.

“Somehow, I’m finding it hard to believe that’s really what you want, Jaz,” he says, those luminous blue eyes traveling over every inch of my flaming face.

I can feel said flaming face burn even hotter in response, in a mix of anger and embarrassment. Because he’s right. My traitorous body is emitting all the wrong signals right now and I want nothing more than to set the record straight.

“That’s because you’re a delusional narcissist,” I retort. I hear a chuckle from somewhere in the living room, reminding me that we have an audience. But I couldn’t care less. Let them see me put this prick in his place.

Raph only smirks in response. Smirks. He’s clearly enjoying himself. But I’m not, and this conversation needs to be over. Now.

I’m also well aware that his arm is still wrapped firmly around my waist and I hate the fact that I can feel every ridge of chorded muscle, even through my blazer.

I open my mouth to make myself blindingly clear, ready to break his arm if that’s what it will take for him to let me go. But he’s already speaking.

“We’re having a party here later tonight.”

I stare back at him in silence, because I have no idea why he’s telling me this. I can tell nothing from his expression and for a split second, the ridiculous thought springs up in my mind that this is some kind of invitation.

But his next words make it crystal clear that it’s not. Not at all.

“You’re not invited,” he adds flatly, as if it’s obvious.

I have no desire to attend his stupid party. But still, his words feel like a slap to the face.

It’s enough to sweep away any lingering embarrassment or any other thought or feeling which isn’t hate, for that matter.

“Screw you, asshole,” I hiss, with enough venom that I feel him loosen his grip. Only slightly, but just enough.

He’s too distracted, by god knows what, to react when I shove him back so that he lands on his ass on the cold marble step.

I stalk up the rest of the steps, leaving Raph laid out on his ass in the same way that he laid me out on my ass in class earlier. But I don’t miss the hoots of laughter coming from Baron and Lance’s direction and Raph’s responding growl, telling them to shut the hell up.

I turn into the left wing hallway and something feels off, although I have no idea what. I try to shake off the irrational feeling. My nerves are probably still fried from that run-in with the king of all assholes.

But when I open the double doors to my suite, I find that the whisper of premonition was not unwarranted.

It takes a moment to register what I’m seeing. There are flyers plastered on the walls and what was once immaculately white marble has been replaced with pictures of naked women—escort flyers. Tits and ass. All over my walls. Every square inch.

I stand deathly still as the anger simmers in my veins, boiling over until it’s all I can feel and the lewd images plastered all over my walls blur into a haze of anger.

It’s eerily quiet in the halls. As if those bastards downstairs are gleefully listening, waiting to hear my reaction.

My mind brings up the image of Raph coming down the stairs earlier, that icy gaze burning through me as he caught me. Why he didn’t just let me fall, I have no clue, because clearly, he loves seeing me suffer.

That motherfucker.

But I stifle the scream of frustration that’s working its way up my throat and calmly walk across the hall towards the St. Tristan suite. The door is locked but I don’t let that stop me.

I kick the door down, surprised by my own strength. I guess what they say about anger and adrenaline is true—it really does give people superhuman strength.

I’m surprised that no one comes running upstairs at the loud bang. They probably think I’ve keeled over and died and there’s no way any of those fuckers downstairs would even consider rushing to my rescue. No, they probably can’t even imagine that I’ve just kicked down Raph’s door or what I’m about to do. That’s because they have no fucking idea who I am.

That same adrenaline pumps through me as I scan the room. It’s as large as my suite, larger maybe. It’s surprisingly tidy for a guy’s room and the whole place smells like him—citrus and cool winter mornings. It only fuels my anger. My gaze falls on the shelves lined with soccer trophies—way too many to be normal. I look at the plaques on some of the trophies – MVP, Arcadia High School League Cup, Eden High School League Cup and it goes on and on.

Well, well, well, I guess Dani was right—this asshole is some kind of soccer star. I can’t help the smile that breaks out on my face as I look across the room.

There’s a set of large double doors leading out to a balcony which overlooks the ocean. Perfect.

Armed with Raph’s precious trophies, I walk over to the French doors, fling them open and proceed to hurl each trophy out to sea. Every single one.

When I’m done with those, and the trophy shelf is satisfyingly bare, I grab an armload of Raph’s no doubt very expensive clothes and sneakers, then add those to the cargo now floating across the ocean.

Ten minutes later, I’m standing on the balcony with a face splitting grin on my face as I look out at the beautiful view—Raph’s precious belongings, scattered on the rocky beach beneath and floating out to sea.

* * *

I spend the next couple of hours trying to rid my walls of the flyers. But there’s way too many of them and the high ceiling makes it impossible to reach all the flyers without a ladder.

I finally give up just before midnight, staring hopelessly at the discarded flyers piled high at the center of my room, and the still covered ceiling and higher sections of the walls.

With the anger and adrenaline gone, I’m exhausted as hell and I want nothing more than to hide in my room forever. But the bass pounding through the very foundations of Sovereign Hall and the music blaring out at a merciless volume, makes sleep impossible. I don’t know how it’s even possible to hear the music from downstairs, when all the walls in the place seem to be made of marble.

I twist and turn on my bed for what seems like hours, although my bedside clock tells me it’s only been twenty minutes since I climbed into bed. Maybe it’s because with each passing minute I can feel the anger returning. Anger aimed at one person in particular.

I don’t know what compels me to leave my room. But I only know that I can’t stand to be in my room a moment longer, my walls plastered with images of tits and ass. A reminder of what these people clearly think of me.

A part of me knows that it’s also because staying hidden in my room like some kind of shameful secret is just what Raph wants. He gave his orders and he expects me to obey. But I’m not one of his little subjects and he has another think coming if he’s expecting to be able to lord over me, like he seems to over every other person in this goddamn place.

I’m already immersed in the sea of bodies crowding the entrance hall when I realize that I didn’t even bother to get changed. I’m still in my sleep shorts and vest. But it’s quickly apparent that I’m showing far less skin than most of the people at the party.

Sovereign Hall is heaving with people. Everyone on campus seems to be here tonight, or at least those popular enough to be invited, and everyone looks like they’re dressed to go to a beach party, where there’ll be a swimsuit competition taking place, instead of a house party. But of course, this isn’t any normal house party. It’s a goddamn mansion and of course, there’s an indoor pool the size of a tennis court.

I expect to slip through the crowd unnoticed. Everyone is either too busy getting wasted on the dance floor, or making out on every available surface. But I’m sadly mistaken. I can feel eyes on me as I pass, people visibly backing away. I couldn’t care less and in fact, I’m glad. It makes it far easier to cross the packed hall when the crowd parts like the red sea for me.

I find myself at the sweeping marble topped bar in the natatorium and I ignore everyone and everything as I perch on one of the bar stools and proceed to pour myself a drink. Thankfully, the bar is all but deserted.

I realize that this is my very first high school party. Not much of a first, but I drink a bitter toast to that. It seems that alcohol tastes the same even in Eden, and I drink another toast to that.

I scan my surroundings, and it’s clear what goes down in these parties—making out. Lots of it.

Members of the soccer team paired off with one, or more, scantily-clad girls, doing god knows what, and it’s everywhere I look. Not just in the dark corners of the hall.

The Dynasty heirs are easy to spot, even among the heaving crowd. Even with the excessive wealth and opulence surrounding this place, they stand out as the most privileged of them all. The most beautiful. The most powerful.

That distinct air of power and cruel beauty makes them utterly unapproachable. Unattainable. But all eyes are drawn to them, like moths to a goddamn flame. Those privileged enough to associate with them, hover close by, but not close enough to truly be a part of their world. They own this place, they’re the very reason why everyone is here tonight. All desperate for even a single look, a word, from one of the Dynasty heirs. And it makes me sick.

I see the queen bitch herself standing with Keller and Ivy, along with a group of girls I recognize from their oh so popular lunch table. They’re surrounded by guys from the soccer team who seem utterly enthralled by these stunningly beautiful girls.

Layla eyes me with distaste as she notices me across the natatorium. As if my very presence is equivalent to a stray animal wondering into the party; and it’s clear from the look on her face, that she can’t quite believe said animal would even dare to show its face. Keller follows her line of sight and the look on her face is equally disbelieving. Clearly disobeying the royal asshole’s orders is something entirely alien to these people.

My eyes travel to where Lance is standing with Baron by the pool edge. Again, both are surrounded by the opposite sex.

I almost roll my eyes at the cliché of it all. But then my gaze falls on something, or more accurately, someone, that makes me regret my decision to come down here at all.

Raph is lounging on one of the poolside recliners, surrounded by what looks like a cast of teen supermodels, all clearly on the list of the most beautiful girls on campus. Although, Raph, too, looks like he’s just walked off the runway of some international fashion show. That, or off the cover of some goddamn magazine. It’s sickening as hell, but I can’t seem to look away.

He has one girl pressed to each side of him, whilst two other girls dance with each other in front of him. Actually, dancing is a polite way of putting it, because they’re more like grinding. Dirty grinding, which given the fact that they’re both wearing string bikinis, makes it akin to stripping. The only thing missing is the pole. Christ, and they think I’m the stripper.

My gaze flicks to Layla momentarily and needless to say, her expression is one of pure venom as she watches her betrothed acting not so betrothed, although unlike the cafeteria scene earlier, she doesn’t make a move to stop him.

The entire scene makes me sick to my stomach and it’s a wonder I’m able to keep my drink down.

He chooses exactly that moment to look my way, and as soon as his eyes lock onto mine, I feel my stomach sink. What the hell was I thinking coming down here?

His expression is unreadable, but I can see from the fire blazing in the depths of those luminous blue eyes, that firstly, my presence is entirely unwelcome and secondly, that he knows exactly who is responsible for throwing his precious trophies in the ocean.

I fully expect him to cross the vast natatorium and drag me upstairs to his balcony, so that he can throw me off it—so that I can join his belongings as they float out to sea. But he doesn’t make a move.

I force myself to turn away and I down the rest of my drink, although I’m all too aware of the way those eyes are boring a hole into me. If only looks could kill, I’m sure I’d be dead by now.

I let out a long breath as I slam my glass down on the marble bar surface. Whatever restless rebelliousness was in my system earlier, is now long gone, and I want nothing more than to crawl back into bed and disappear. Even if I probably won’t be able to sleep a wink until this goddamn party is over, and the deafening bass stills.

Unfortunately, I’ve barely made it off the bar stool when I’m faced with those blazing blue eyes up close, as Raph glowers down at me.

“I specifically recall telling you that you weren’t invited.” His voice is as cold as ice in contrast to that fire.

Although I’d been only all too ready to leave this party, his tone makes me change my mind pretty damn quickly. If only to prove a point to this asshole.

“And I specifically recall telling you that if you think you can threaten me and bark orders at me, then expect me to roll over and obey, then you have another think coming, asshole.”

He smirks in response and I want nothing more than to wipe it off his perfect face.

His eyes travel the length of me and despite feeling overdressed earlier in comparison to the swimwear-clad crowd, I suddenly feel exposed in my vest and sleep shorts.

I’m equally aware of his lack of clothing as he stands much too close, wearing nothing but black swim shorts. But I refuse to look and it’s probably the most self-control I’ve ever had to exert.

“I think your exact words were royal asshole, actually.”

I’m both surprised that he actually remembered what I’d said, that he’s capable of remembering anything other than his name being spoken in praise and chanted in glory, and at the same time, I’m pissed as hell that he has the gall to throw those words back at me.

I open my mouth to give him something else to remember, but he’s already continuing.

“I’ll give you one chance to get the hell out of here. One. Go back upstairs. Now. And I’ll pretend I never saw you down here.”

My answer is simple.

“No.”

“No?” He says it as if he’s never heard the word before, which is probably true. I can’t imagine anyone having the balls or in the case of every single girl on this damn planet, the self-control, to ever refuse him. The heir to the goddamn throne. He’s probably never wanted for anything in his entire life. Well, I’m more than willing to educate him.

“No.” I repeat. “N.O. As in I won’t be following your orders, your highness,” I mock.

His perfect features twist in displeasure. Then he cocks his head to the side as he regards me thoughtfully, like a formation on a chess set. Considering his next move before he goes in for the kill.

I wonder why he hasn’t yet brought up his goddamn trophies. But I’m not about to give him an opening to do just that, so I continue before he can fill the space between us with more of his poisonous words.

“Seeing as you insist on cranking the bass high enough to wake the dead, and seeing as you thought it would be a good idea to plaster my walls with pictures of tits and ass, hiding away in my room isn’t much of an option right now.”

He flashes that infuriatingly arrogant smile then.

“I thought you’d be used to seeing tits and ass everywhere. Does it remind you of home?”

Bastard.

I bite down on the responding insult working its way up my throat because he’s just not worth it.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” I ask coolly, quirking an eyebrow.

I can see from the heat in his expression, that it has the desired effect.

“Because if that’s the case, then I think I’ll just sit down and pour myself another drink. I’d ask you to join me, but I don’t drink with assholes, so if you don’t mind …” I add, sounding much braver than I feel. Because right now, I feel intimidated as hell. But there’s no way I’m about to let him see that.

The heat in his gaze blazes to an almighty inferno and I was right to feel intimidated. I’m suddenly all too aware that I’m feeding a fire that will most likely burn me alive.

“I do mind, actually,” Raph replies, his eyes darkening.

I open my mouth to retort, but we’re suddenly interrupted.

“What do we have here?” Baron’s voice travels from behind Raph.

I look up to see those striking aquamarine eyes peering at me from over Raph’s shoulder. He flashes me that panty dropping smile. But with the two of them towering over me like a pair of line backers, it’s impossible to feel anything other than intimidated.

Across the natatorium, I can see Lance looking over at us from the pool edge. The flash of alarm in his expression tells me that if I’m not already worried, then I sure as hell should be.

Raph’s eyes me coolly, and the ruthless glint in those impossibly blue eyes is impossible to miss.

“No one important,” he replies casually, but his eyes never leave mine and clearly those words are directed at me.

“Just someone who needs to be taught a lesson.”

Baron’s smile widens in response. But before I can tell both these assholes to go to hell, I feel the ground falling away beneath me. It takes me a moment to realize that I’m being carried over someone’s shoulder. Raph’s very broad and powerfully muscled shoulder.

I start thrashing against the iron grip, although I’m still too disoriented to truly understand what’s happening.

Raph lets out a low growl in response.

“You think you’re funny throwing my stuff into the sea—my trophies?” he says, finally alluding to my earlier act of revenge.

“Let me go!” I scream, although it’s lost in the pounding music. Put me down, you fucker!”

Before I can say anything else, I feel myself flying through the air and the shock of wetness as I plunge into water. Acting on instinct, I kick my way up to the surface, spewing out chlorine water as I break through. Laughter echoes through the glass walled natatorium.

Any residual disorientation fades when I realize that the asshole has thrown me into the swimming pool.

I smooth my hair back with shaking hands. I’m so furious, I can’t even see straight. But through the haze of rage, my eyes lock onto Raph, who is standing over the pool, his arms crossed over his perfectly tanned chest and looking all too pleased with himself. I want to wipe that smile off his face.

I can hear the distinct sound of Layla and Ivy cackling in the background.

“Damn girl, you look sexy as hell all soaked through like that.” Baron is standing closest to the pool edge with Lance and both of them are smirking down at me.

My face is burning now, because I can feel that everyone is staring. What looks like the entire soccer team is gathered around, pissing themselves with laughter, at the sight.

My temper explodes and I grab the two closest people to the pool edge—Baron and Lance, pulling them into the water by their legs.

Baron glides through the water effortlessly, like a shark, and surfaces quickly, laughing as he breaks through. Heir of the sea, indeed. I can feel his arms wrap around me as he tries to help me out of the pool.

“Chill, sweetheart, it was just a joke,” he says, still laughing. His arm wraps tighter around my waist as he leads me up to the pool steps. I make to push him away, but Raph is already speaking.

“Get your fucking hands off her, B,” Raph growls. He suddenly looks furious as he glares at Baron, and I have no clue why. It only makes me angrier.

I climb the pool steps and march over to where Raph is standing, painfully aware that my white sleeping shorts and vest are soaked through, leaving little to the imagination. I hate myself for not wearing a bra to bed tonight.

Raph’s eyes are like blue flames as they rake over my body and it only adds fuel to the anger boiling inside me.

Something inside me snaps then and I feel the sharp sting of flesh against my palm as I slap Raph across that smug face of his.

The room falls into silence and I can hear audible gasps coming from the soccer team. Raph looks stunned, but recovers quickly. He’s beyond furious. Good. So am I.

“Are you crazy?” Raph seethes.

I force my breathing to calm, and I step closer as I bring my face up to his.

“Yeah, I am—and if you keep messing with me, you’ll see just what a crazy bitch I am. You think this was funny? Well laugh it up, because you won’t be laughing when I return the favor.”

Feeling brazen then, or just feeling like I have nothing left to lose, I bring my lips up to his ear.

“And I always return the favor.”

I think I’m imagining it, but I swear that I feel a shudder go through that powerfully muscled body. Either way, he seems at a loss for words, as I turn on my heel and walk away into the stunned crowd.

I can feel his eyes burning a hole into the back of me. It isn’t until I get back upstairs and see my reflection in the full length mirror that I realize my soaked white sleeping shorts are so see-through, that I may as well have been walking away bare assed.