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

on the way. He readies it with one hand. If it was me, I'd be grinning like a fool, but Juilliard almost looks sick. His pale skin is flushed and still shining with sweat. I guess it would be different doing it to someone you're close to.

"Lay down," Juilliard commands.

Marcello nods, laying on his back and tucking his arms behind his head. The perfect image of relaxation.

"Would you like something to bite on?" Juilliard asks.

"Nah," Marcello responds with an easy smile.

Oh, this is going to be good.

"Fine. Just know that I asked." Dark hair shifts around Juilliard's face as he shakes his head. He lifts Marcello's shirt, bunching it under his arms, then runs his fingers over his friend's ribs. He takes his time, feeling them each up then down.

The way Marcello stretches makes it easier to see where his ribs are, but easier than that you can see each and every muscle. As if on cue, I swallow and try to focus on Juilliard's hands. Marcello catches my gaze.

"Like what you see?"

I snort. "I'd like to see Juilliard swing that hammer into your fucking chest is what I'd like. Other than that, nope. You're utterly unappealing."

"What an interesting choice of words. If anything, that just makes me think that you do find me appealing."

"You only hear what you want to."

"Hardly. I merely have good intuition."

Juilliard's hand stays in one spot, pushing and feeling against the bone. "We don't have any X-rays to take a real look, but this feels like it did indeed heal at a different angle then it should have. This is going to fucking hurt. Should I give you something to knock you out? I really should be cutting you open right now."

"It's fine."

And Marcello thinks I'm too prideful.

"I might need to dig my fingers under your skin to get a better grip on the bone to hold it while it starts to heal, then you'll need to lay fucking still while it heals the rest of the way."

"Okay, got it doctor."

Juilliard is still shaking his head as if he doesn't believe his friend. I don't believe him either, this relaxed facade has to be fake. Marcello's bright eyes land on me again as Juilliard lines his fingers up and lifts the hammer.

"Want to hold my hand, Nilsa?"

"Do you think that's really going to help?" I ask.

"Of course. You're so sweet, it's bound to block out some of the pain."

I have to laugh at that, but pain laces through my side as I chuckle and it's cut short. "You'll break my hand, no thank you."

"Fine." He shrugs his shoulders and Juilliard shoots him a dark look, still holding the hammer in position to swing. "It was more for you than for me anyway."

"Hit him Juilliard," I snap.

The Elf doesn't wait any longer, even when Marcello starts to talk again. In one swift movement he brings the hammer down just below his fingers. It's a shorter hit than I expect, but it does the job as a loud crack cuts through the air. Marcello hisses out all of his air. Lines form around his eyes and mouth as he flinches in pain. His arms jerk, his knees bending slightly. I know that feeling, the need to curl into a ball as if that will ease the pain.

Juilliard's hands are instantly moving. He sets down the hammer, his other hand pushing, no not pushing, digging into Marcello's flesh. Marcello groans, grinding his teeth. Blood pools around Juilliard fingers. Marcello squirms.

"Hold still!" Juilliard says sharply.

Marcello instantly freezes, but his lashes flutter against his cheeks before he closes his eyes. His chest still rises and falls as he forces himself to take even breaths. New sweat drips down his temple.

I'm so fucking glad that isn't me. Stitches would be nothing in comparison to that. At least he'll be healing quickly.

Juilliard holds his hand still and looks up at me. "So Nilsa, what did you think of the first event?" He looks down to my hand. "Keep pressure on that wound."

"If I don't, will you have to rebreak Marcello's rib again?" I arch a brow.

"Fuck no," Marcello hisses. "We'd let you bleed out."

"Ooo, I like this version of you Marcello. I like when you quit playing like you're all niceties and charm," I purr.

"You're a freak." Juilliard sighs. "Answer the question. I'd rather think about something other than the fact that my fingers are piercing through my best friend's muscles right now."

What do I think about today's event? What should I say? All of what I'm feeling? None of it? Words rush out in a more panicked manner then I mean for them to.

"I think the crowd, the king, all of them were foolish to underestimate me. I think that the event was hard, stressful, scary even, but there is something to that stupid 'we all enter, we all leave' mantra. I think that I should be less worried about proving myself in the next event and more worried about getting out alive."

I take a deep breath and continue. "I think that I'm too wrapped up in wanting everyone to know that I can do it that I'm forgetting to think things through. If Arron was alive, he'd be pissed to see how rash I acted today."

"I agree," Marcello wheezes, cracking one eye and lifting one half of his smile.

"And I think you're a fucking idiot too," I add.

"How so?"

Juilliard smiles, but doesn't interrupt. This probably helps to distract from the pain, maybe I'm doing Marcello a favor and I should shut up.

"Well you let me jump on that thing’s back! That was dangerous! And you should have probably known that I wasn't strong enough to break that thing's neck." I'd over estimated my own abilities and I won't