Five: Sex & Alcohol.

CHAPTER FIVE:

Zayne’s POV: 

“You keep making our mother angry,” Reynold sighs. “You didn't have to go to the ballroom in your drunken state, it gives the royal family a bad name.”

I scoff. “First, she’s your mother, not my mother.” 

He keeps forgetting that part.

“She raised you, therefore, she’s your mother,” he says firmly. “And it’s only right if you show her some respect.”

Here we go again. 

“Is this why you’re in my room this late? To bore me with lectures about family and the importance of family?” I ask, a mocking edge to my tone. “If that’s why you're here, save your breath. I'm not interested in kissing anyone’s ass or being the picture-perfect prince.” 

He facepalms, groaning softly. “You’re twenty-six, no longer a teen! You've gotta start acting like a grown man. Like a prince who has duties.”

‘Prince who has duties.’  Makes me laugh loudly. 

“I’m the spare, brother.” I turn, walking over to my mini bar and pour myself a glass of wine. “I do not have ‘duties.’”

“Nonsense! Of course you do!” He snaps. “And you know it. Why do you keep sabotaging yourself? I’m trying to help. I only want what’s best for you. The king and queen want that for you.”

My fingers tighten around the glass. “You don't know anything,” I laugh bitterly. 

“Don’t say that.” He’s standing close to me now, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Brcause I’ve seen how much mother looks out for you even though you’re rude and disrespectful to her all the time.”

I shrug his hand off, anger simmering in my chest. 

I like Reynold, I do. He may be my half-brother, but he’s the only one who cares for me.

But times like this make me want to punch his face, maybe bash it with a fucking rock until his brains are scattered across the ground. 

How can he be so naive? 

How is he so blind to how much his mother hates me? 

Does he know his childhood and mine are vastly different? Sure, I don't speak of it, I never let anyone see or know what happened back then but the queen’s hatred isn't subtle. 

Fuck. 

I hate thinking of the past. I hate everything related to it. The pain, the cold nights, the—no! 

I slam the wineglass down, facing him. “Leave,” I snarl. 

Reynold frowns. “What? Why?”

“Get the fuck out of my room!” I bark, watching his eyes widen. 

He raises his hands in mock surrender, a mix of sadness, confusion and anger on his face. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave. I don't know what’s going on with you right now but we’re not done here.”

I say nothing as I watch him leave. 

Thanks to his stupid intervention, my mood is even more sour than it was earlier today. 

And I fucking hate feeling too much.

I hate it even more when that feeling is rage and sadness. 

‘Fuck this shit, I need a distraction.’

~  ~  ~ 

Sex and alcohol usually do the trick. 

But for some reason, it isn't working right now. 

While I no longer feel like breaking things, preferably my brother’s face, I still can't take my mind off the memories that haunt me. 

And I’m fucking angry. 

The girls in front of me should be a pretty distraction. But no. 

Red-haired grabs brunette’s neck and kisses her passionately, slow at first, and then it turns heated. Their moans fill my ears as they begin to caress their boobs. Brunette breaks the kiss eventually and I grab red-haired onto my lap and that’s when I see her. 

The girl from earlier. 

And suddenly, my worries and anger are forgotten. 

My cock goes from half hard to rock hard when those green eyes meet mine. I’d recognize those eyes anywhere—after the night I saw how soulless they can be while he was skillfully ending a person’s life. 

I smile, remembering our exchange earlier. She probably thinks my words were nothing but drunken gibberish. 

This little, cunning assassin… she’s gonna make things around here so much more interesting. 

Do I sit back and watch what she does or use her to my advantage?