This was the asshole that had his cock in his girlfriend’s mouth!
With a hoarse roar, Grant rose up and charged towards the prince—-
The prince stilled.
“This is for what you did to Fawn—-” Grant threw all his strength into the fist he swung towards the other guy.
The prince deftly turned sideways at the last second, and Grant missed his target completely, leaving him clawing the air just before crashing back down, his nose smashing against the hard ground.
Grant howled in rage as he rolled to his back, clutching his bleeding nose. Forcing himself to sit up, he threw a baleful glance at the prince, gritting out, “F-fuck you!” Even to his ears, his slurred words sounded humiliatingly pathetic, and his fists clenched in shamed rage. “Fuck you, asshole—-”
“I suppose you’re here to talk about what you heard over the phone.”
The polite mask on the prince’s too-pretty face didn’t change as he spoke, and the sight of it had Grant nearly choking in his anger. A sense of recklessness seized him, and all he wanted then was to get even.
Forcing himself to get up, Grant snarled, “You think I don’t know the truth about you, bastard?” When the prince only looked at him, Grant said viciously, “I know who your real parents are, asshole, and I fucking wish you had died with them!”
Instead of flying into a rage like Grant hoped, the prince only looked at him. “Is that really what you want to talk about?”
And that was when Grant saw it—-
Even with the prince’s face remaining unreadable, the taunting gleam in the prince’s green eyes was unmistakable, and it was almost like he could hear the prince ask mockingly in his mind, When are we going to talk about Fawn sucking on my cock?
Grant completely lost it and even knowing that he would fail, his feet started to move, pounding harder and faster towards the prince, throwing his fists wildly and aimlessly in hopes that he could sneak even just one fucking punch.
But it was impossible.
The prince seemed to be always ten steps ahead of him, easily anticipating and evading Grant’s fists. Even his kicks landed on thin air, the prince knowing exactly when to turn or step back. More seconds passed, a combination of exhaustion and an impending sense of defeat making Grant more desperate.
Goddamn it, he just wanted to hurt the prince the way he was goddamn hurting—-
“She was my girlfriend, asshole,” Grant screamed as he threw another fist that only struck air. “My girlfriend!”
The prince’s lip curled. “If only you had remembered that before fucking another girl behind Fawn’s back—-”
Grant’s face turned a livid shade of red. “Don’t you dare fucking judge me when Fawn’s letting you bang her—-”
At his words, the prince’s jaw started to tick, and he cut Grant off, saying tautly, “I haven’t touched her—-”
Grant released a maniacal laugh, demanding incredulously, “Do you really think I’m that fucking stupid to believe you?”
“Yes.” The prince stared at him coldly. “The day Fawn became my lover was the day she caught you with your pants down fucking your council’s vice president in an empty classroom.”
“Bullshit.” Grant spat at the ground. “She’s a whore—-”
The prince’s face hardened.
Grant laughed wildly. “What? Are you telling me an asshole like you is offended?”
“For your sake,” the prince said softly, “I’d advise you not to say another word about her.”
“Her? Do you mean Fawn? My girlfriend?” Now that he had found a crack in the prince’s mask, Grant clawed into it greedily, sneering, “She’s exactly what I said. A whore. A cock-sucking whore—-”
The prince hissed, “This is your last warning—-”
Victory tasted so damn sweet, and Grant lost his head with it. “Since she seems to fucking love cocks so much, I think I’m going to invite her out and have all the guys from the council have fun with her. They can take fucking turns—-”
Either Grant was too drunk or the prince was too fast, but the next thing he knew, he was choking, with the cold metallic barrel of the prince’s gun shoved halfway inside his mouth.
His terrified gaze collided with the prince’s, and Grant could feel his blood leeching off his face as he found himself staring into the eyes of a killer.
“Be very still, Bennett.” The prince’s tone was exquisitely soft, almost dangerously playful, if playing with a man’s fate was a game. “Move too much, and I might accidentally pull the trigger—-”
“—-like this.” The prince pulled the trigger, the gun fired, and the cylinder spun for the next shot.
A second later, the prince retrieved the gun from Grant’s mouth, and Grant fell to his knees, trembling hard, unable to believe what had just happened.
Over his head, the prince crooned, “You got lucky.”
Grant heard the prince cock his gun.
“Shall we play again?”
Fear razed his mind, and Grant started to throw up—-