Dirty Wicked Prince (Court Legacy Book 1) by Eden O'Neill

Author:Eden O'Neill [O'Neill, Eden]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-02-28T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

TWENTY

Sloane

I was surprised when Thatcher Reed dropped his linebacker self at my lunch table the very next school day.

In fact, I looked around.

Needless to say, my table had been barren since I’d established war with Windsor Preparatory Academy’s elite.

And Thatcher was royalty. He caught several eyes upon making it to my basically abandoned table, looking extra pretty with his dangling earrings and hair in a messy tousle. He was beyond attractive, and that may have been something I noticed from the jump…

Had he not basically assaulted me in a swimming pool.

I hadn’t forgotten that day, stiffening when he placed his big self on the other side of the table. He may be a junior, younger than me, but he was still bigger than me. I eyed him. “What do you want?”

He studied me, my straw between my lips. I’d stopped sipping the milk from my carton, basically stuck. His strong chin jutted in my direction. “I heard what you did.” He looked around, his royal-blue eyes narrowed to slits when they returned. “For my sister? Bow told me how you stood up for her at the game.”

Did she now? Removing the straw from between my lips, I set my carton on the table. I laughed. “Well, did she tell you what she did?” I stated, thinking about that night. I tilted my head. “She basically tackled that motherfucker like a little monkey before you and your boys showed up.”

She’d been completely badass. She obviously had a little fire cat in that tank. The little rabbit surprised me. I’d come to save her, and she’d ended up getting me out of a scrape.

Thatcher smirked. “I taught her well,” he said, but as he said the words, his gaze circulated. It landed on a couple of guys coming into the cafeteria.

One had his arm in a sling.

A fresh cast was on the tool’s arm from the football game, and seeing Thatcher at my reject table, the guy’s eyes basically bugged out of their sockets.

Tool-burger shielded his eyes before skirting past my table. The guy behind him I recognized as well. I recognized him as his friend from that evening, but he didn’t have a broken arm.

“We promised him we wouldn’t break his legs if he left,” Thatcher said, and I blinked. He took one of my fries out of my basket, dipping it in my ketchup before chewing it. He smirked again. “We didn’t say we wouldn’t break his arm.”

Holy fucking shit.

That guy definitely had a cast as he cruised into the lunch line.

I supposed Legacy wasn’t playing.

These Legacy boys weren’t just all bark, sheer power, which made me really look at the guy sitting with me. I saw none of his friends around.

But that didn’t mean they weren’t nearby.

That didn’t mean Dorian Prinze wasn’t somewhere, the dark ruler himself. I still was at war with these guys, obviously thugs at this school.

“Why did you do it?” he asked, eyeing me again. He frowned. “Stand up for my sister. I mean, we know you used her.

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