Kings of Quarantine (Brutal Boys of Everlake Prep #1) - Caroline Peckham ,Susanne Valenti Page 0,46

tugged them on as I approached Monroe. That was his one condition for training with me. He wasn’t a pussy, but he couldn’t very well get into bare knuckle brawls with a student so we had to wear the right equipment. This way, our bouts together were real lessons so we weren’t technically breaking any rules. I was just having private training sessions. Though I guessed that the school board might frown on the fact that we split the takings I won from the illegal fights I took part in.

Monroe finished up his set and turned to me as I approached him.

“Was the party that bad?” he taunted, giving me that assessing look which said he could see right into my soul. Or at least like he could have if I’d had one.

“It was alright.” I shrugged. “Just didn’t give me what I needed.”

I stumbled as I moved onto the mats before him and he paused as he gave me a closer look.

“You still managed to consume plenty of alcohol by the looks of it,” he growled, dropping his fists like he was about to refuse this fight. But that shit wasn’t gonna fly with me.

“Yeah, well, maybe that’ll give you a chance to win for once,” I taunted.

He snorted dismissively and shook his head. “Sleep it off. We can do this in the morning before class if you crawl out of bed in time, or-”

“No,” I snarled and he cut me a look that warned me to back down, but it wasn’t going to happen. “C’mon, sir. I thought you had dreams of beating the shit out of entitled little pricks like me? You know I deserve it…”

His jaw tightened and I could see that hatred brimming beneath the surface, looking for an outlet. It wasn’t aimed at me really, but I’d happily make use of what he felt for the douchebags I had classes with. It did seem strange to me that he’d taken this job at all when he clearly hated the way we abused the money we’d all been born to, but whenever I’d questioned him on it he’d just brushed me off.

I lunged at him with a right hook and he ducked aside before slamming his fist into my gut in return.

My body sang with the flash of pain and a savage grin pulled at my lips.

“You seriously want to fight me like this?” Monroe asked, but I could tell he didn’t feel that bad about the idea of kicking the shit out of me. His monster needed this too, even if it wasn’t as hungry as mine.

“Fuck yes,” I replied, throwing all of my strength into my next punch and grinning as I caught him in the ribs. This was the only place where I felt like I really knew myself, deep in the thick of a fight was where I’d been born to live. Throwing punches felt like smashing down walls, receiving them was like breaking chains. It was the only time I was free of anything and everything else and I was wholly, truly living in the moment.

“Well don’t come crying to me about it in the morning,” he taunted as he finally gave in.

The next attack he launched was brutal and my sluggish brain made it hard for me to battle back against the moves.

Pain bled through me again and again as his fists connected with my flesh and I bathed in it, fed on it, drowned in it. Sparks ignited in my brain and every thought in my head was electrified, urgent, angry, real.

This was where I died and was born again. This was what I lived for. Pain and blood and agony. It was true and it was pure and it was oh so fucking real.

Mila caught my hand, dragging me up to dance with the rest of the girls and I was soon wedged between hot bodies, the haze of rum making me feel like I was floating on air. Pearl Devickers and Georgie Penfield were giving me the cold hard bitch treatment since Kyan had rejected them. Even despite the fact I’d made it clear to them I thought Kyan Roscoe was a dickwad and an asshole. A dickhole if you will. But the sharpness of lemon, lingering tequila and a demon’s flesh on my tongue reminded me that he was also going to be visiting me in my fantasies in the very near future.

I was seriously pissed at him for screwing up my hard earned friendship