Vengeance (The Prince's Games Book 1) by Rebecca Grey (electric book reader TXT) 📕

These aren't old friends.

Somehow the Elf girl Lux had made her way to our camp, striking up a conversation when Marcello had returned with the pork to cook over our fire. She'd stayed for dinner while I ate on my cot, listening to their easy conversation.

The bitter pang of jealousy seizes my body. Saints, I don't want to be jealous. I don't want to care. Still, I keep thinking that if I was out there having this conversation with Marcello it'd be much more entertaining than this frilly filler conversation.

Lux's petite frame leans into Marcello, merging their shadows into one as the space between them is squashed away. I close my eyes, trying not to think about what the sudden silence and nearness of their shadows mean. I press my eyes so tightly that I’m seeing stars behind my eyelids. And even then, it's not good enough, so I cover my eyes with both hands.

A few minutes pass, quiet minutes where I hope that he is wishing her a good night and she leaves for her own bed, but the silence doesn't last long. Marcello moans. Not in pain, but in pleasure. I can feel it in the air the way the moan shakes from his body, resonating inside of his chest.

My hands slap the sheets. My fingers curl into the thin blanket as I push myself up to sitting. A new ache forms, digging its claws right inside of my heart. I want to throw up. I want to scream and tell them to stop. I can't do either of those things, though. I can't bring myself to do anything other than watch the shadows cast on the fabric of my tent.

Lux is bent over into Marcello's lap. Her shoulders and head are bobbing in a telling way. Marcello's large frame is relaxed, his hand holds his torso up similarly to how I sit now.

My imagination immediately runs away with no regards for my heart. I watch closely, studying the way Lux moves. The picture of what I'd expect his cock to look like flashes inside of my thoughts. With his size, I imagine what his dick would feel like in my hands, in my mouth, between my legs.

Marcello moans again and the sound threatens to tear me to shreds. My cot creaks as I flop back down onto the mattress. Warm under the covers, I snake my arms down to the pooling heat between my legs that's been building for hours upon hours. The tips of my fingers tease at my underwear as I debate on my sanity when I'm about to touch myself to the sound of Marcello getting sucked off.

"Ah, yes," he whispers. "Fuck. That's good."

I snatch my hand away. The bed groans again as I roll to my side and curl into myself. This is torture. This is what Hell is fucking like.

Even without looking I can hear the wet slurp of Lux's mouth wrapping around the velvet steel of his cock. My stomach tightens. Frustration spreads in my veins as the beating of my heart syncs with the sound of her lips on him.

Who the fuck does Marcello think he is? Where does he get off telling me that we have sexual tension and then bringing a girl into our camp to do this? Every rising question stings like a cut through my chest.

Why do you care, Nilsa? Why?

Because you like him, asshole. Because you let him convince you that he cares for you with all that smooth fucking talking. You let the way he looks, as if the Saints had made him specifically for you, sway you into fantasizing about being in his arms. He doesn't care about your Human heart. He doesn't care. He doesn't care! Maybe if I keep repeating it I’ll finally truly believe it. It hasn’t worked so far.

Why do I care? Why should I!?

The walls of the tent edge closer. The mattress of my cot somehow shrinks underneath me. I'm too big. This space is too small. Each sound the couple emits travels into the tent and bounces between the hanging fabric.

Every bliss-filled noise Marcello makes is nothing to the sound he makes when he cums. A groan turns into a moan, his breath catching in his throat. I dare a glance at his shadowy form. His head tilts back, his muscles clenched.

Lux's shadow sits up. My eyes still watch as Marcello runs his finger against her cheek. He leans in, whispering something my Human ears don't catch. Whatever it is... it has Lux slinking away and me sagging into my mattress in relief.

But not total relief. No, Marcello's had his, but fucking Saints I want mine. His dark form moves across the campsite. I lay for a minute longer, soaking in the silence.

The cold travels from the concrete floor through my socks and sends a shiver traveling over my skin. It still does nothing to quell my needs. Every thought is muddled with images made completely of my own imagination. Skin on skin and teeth against lips.

Firelight flickers against my skin the moment I'm outside of the tent. A clammy heat covers me in a thin layer of sweat. I don't know where I'm going. I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing, but I can't be here trapped in this tent for a moment longer.

"What are you doing up?" Marcello asks. The buttons of his undershirt are open, revealing the hair that curls on his pecs. His pants are thankfully buckled, the legs tucked messily into the tops of his boots.

A blush works up my neck to the tip of my ears. I toe the dirt, trying to think of any reason as to why I'm up and about. "Can't sleep," I blurt. "What are you doing out here?"

Marcello clears his throat. He points