Dirty Wicked Prince (Court Legacy Book 1)

Dorian – present

The text came from Thatcher as I reentered Maywood Heights’s city limits, but I didn’t check it until I stopped at a streetlight.

Thatcher: Did you do it?

I had, picking up my phone off the seat.

Me: It’s done.

I tossed the phone after that. The light changed, but the phone flashed again, and I couldn’t help but look over.

Wells: You okay?

Word certainly traveled fast between my friends. Thatcher had obviously texted Wells.

I had no more words for my friends, so I let the text go.

I drove home.

I took the long way, scenic until I got so lost in my thoughts I had no idea how I’d gotten there. I sat in the driveway for what felt like forever. Meanwhile, my phone blew up beside me.

I hung an arm over the wheel, staring at the phone on my seat. Texts from both Wells and Thatcher rolled in, but I didn’t move an inch.

Thatcher: D, wanna talk?

Wells: Wanna meet?

They were in a group chat at this point, and I’d obviously figured out they’d been talking to each other first. How else would Wells know to ask if I was okay?

I wasn’t.

I was man enough to admit that what I’d done today had affected me. I was goddamn human.

And what I’d done was fucked.

It’d been necessary, though, which was why I’d done it.

I started to pick up my phone, but wasn’t man enough to admit my feelings to my friends. They weren’t going to know.

Me: I’m fine.

I wasn’t fine.

It didn’t matter.

What was done was done, and now that tonight was behind me, I could move on.

I was free.

I could sleep well tonight knowing I’d stepped up and done what I’d needed to do. My father also wouldn’t have to worry any longer about things he shouldn’t have been close to knowing about. I’d admit I’d gotten sloppy in the past, but this time, I’d used cash during my stops upstate.

Not that I could stop and fucking eat anything.

I’d ended up pulling over at a truck stop halfway between here and my destination just to make good use of the toilet. I’d hurled my fucking brains out like a little bitch, nerves.

On my return trip, though, there’d been nothing but stomach bile in my gut. I’d managed to at least keep that down. I’d driven all the way back to Maywood Heights with my stomach clenched, my chest tight.

I just didn’t know why.

I’d stared a monster in the eyes tonight, taken care of shit, so I shouldn’t have felt anything about what I’d just done.

Thatcher: Talk to us, D.

Wells: Should we call your parents? Wolf?

God, fucking no.

Me: I told you I’m fucking fine. Stop worrying.

They didn’t stop.

They continued to blow up my phone for the next few days.

I didn’t go to school.

I had Ronald call me in after my parents went off to work, and he could probably get fired for such a thing.

I stopped caring about stuff I used to care about. I stopped being a decent fucking human being. Wells and Thatcher continued to text and even showed up during those few days I cut class and needed time to my fucking self.

I had Ronald send them away.

I’d never been more grateful to not share events of my life with my other best friend, Wolf. One person who wasn’t blowing up my phone had been him, and oddly enough, he’d been very quiet. I got one or two texts asking if I was still living since I was calling in sick. But nothing after that.

It was just Thatcher and Wells who were hovering. Like they themselves stated, they felt they were accessories to what I’d done. They knew about shit, but they were sworn to secrecy—by me.

Eventually, I did leave the house to drive and did plan on going to school tomorrow. Currently, I sat in my car picking at food I’d just gotten from Jax’s Burgers. I still had no taste, but Ronald had urged me to go out and get something to eat. He’d said I hadn’t been looking well.

He didn’t know the half of it.

My food had gotten cold in my lap, and I just sat in my parents’ driveway with it. It was starting to get late, and I probably should go to bed. Not that I could sleep either.

My mind was a cluster fuck, but I had to get my shit together. Things still weren’t done, not by a long shot, and I’d just mustered up the energy to go inside when I got a weird text.

For once, it wasn’t Thatcher or Wells.

Unknown: Hey, this is Sloane. I’m not sure if you’re still out of town. It’s been a few days, but if you are back, are you with my brother? I can’t find him.

Sloane.

What the fuck?

Me: How did you get this number?

She shouldn’t have it. I’d never given it to her.

Sloane: Went through Bru’s phone one night.

She pinged.

Sloane: Swiped his contacts.

She pinged again.

Sloane: I didn’t trust you.

She shouldn’t. She shouldn’t trust me at all.

I was a monster.

My trail of dark deeds would only grow as the days progressed. That I knew. Sloane’s text message bubble surfaced again, and I waited.

Sloane: Also, if he was hanging with you guys, I needed a way to contact him in case I couldn’t find him. Example: tonight. Are you with him? Are you back?

I definitely was. Had been for days.

Me: I’m back, but I’m not with him. Sorry.

I tossed my phone, my headache a mile long.

My phone rang.

I started to shut that shit off, but then Sloane’s number showed on the front.

Christ.

I answered despite myself. Why did I always fucking cater to this girl?

I sat in silence when I answered, hadn’t even said her name when I picked up.

“Hi.”

Her hurried voice slid into the line, breathy, panting. It reminded me of when I’d made her come.

Instantly.

Fucking.

Hard.

This girl had a fucking effect on me I couldn’t stand, and she was obviously moving around somewhere.

“What do you need?” I asked her, doing my best not to sound like a fucking dick.

Why do you care?

For some reason, I did, waiting. But when she didn’t say anything at first, I sat up. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to look for Bru,” she huffed, more than aggressive about it. It was one of the things I liked about her. Noa Sloane put up with no shit. She stood up to me, stood up to all of us, and not a lot of people around here did that whether because of fear or intimidation.

We’d attempted both on her, but to no avail. She’d handled her own.

And got in your goddamn head.

I blamed that on only her taste, something I’d made myself truly believe. I didn’t have time for anything else.

“The Find My Phone app said he’s at Murphy Park,” she said. “But I think I’m lost. That’s why I called you. I have no idea where the fuck I am.”

I smiled. “I know it. Where did you just pass? Anything identifiable?”

“Actually, yes.” She stopped, then chuckled. “You probably won’t believe this, but there’s a tree that looks like a fucking dick.”

I laughed.

Actually laughed.

This girl managed to get laughter out of me, go fucking figure after the week I’d had. I nodded my chin though she couldn’t see. “Doyle’s Cock.”

“What?”

My smile widened. “That’s its name.” Well, at least that’s what me and my asshole friends named it. “We had a teacher named Mr. Doyle in the seventh grade. Total dick. We named it after him.”

“Hence, Doyle’s Cock.” Her own laughter sounded into the line, like those little birds that flew around in spring.

What the fuck? Little birds? Really, D?

This chick was way too into my head, and I knew because I was now backing out of my driveway.

“Stay there,” I said into the line. I had my speakerphone on at this point. “I’m coming out. I’ll find you.”

“What?”

“I said I’m coming to you. What, you don’t want the help?” Not to mention she was fucking lost. “Just stay there. Don’t get yourself lost any deeper.”

“Okay.” Her voice had been light, hesitant. Noa Sloane still didn’t trust me.

She really shouldn’t.

I got to Doyle’s Cock, and Sloane sat on a picnic table beside it. She had her phone in her lap, the light from it contouring the soft shape of her face. My Audi lights flooded the grass in front of her, and she lifted her head, all that dark hair sliding off her shoulder when she stood up.

This girl was a goddamn goddess from her little shirts that hugged her perfect tits to the shorts that barely covered her ass cheeks. She had these dark nipples that I loved too, like chocolate fucking kisses.

But then she fucking looked at you.

Borderline knocked me out more than once, and I was man enough to admit that too. I had no place in my life for Noa Sloane.

Yet, here she was.

She strode over to me in her high-top tennis shoes, eye level to eye level with me when she got there. I still couldn’t get over how tall this girl was. I had a good half a foot on her, but it was rare I actually stared into a girl’s eyes without looking down at her. Sloane stood toe to toe with me.

She always had.

“Hi.” She said this timidly. Not like herself at all.

But then again, last time you saw her you fucked her and she made you come like a goddamn virgin.

This girl continued to be a complete head fuck, and as she showed me her phone, her skin smelling all sweet and shit like cookies, I tried to focus on what she was showing me.

“Find My Phone says he’s here,” she said, long dark lashes flowing at me. She gazed around. “I just don’t know why.”

“He won’t pick up his phone?” I typed his number, calling him. Her phone app wasn’t saying much. Just had a dot on Murphy Park.

The number went right to voicemail, no ring at all.

“Just voicemail.” She turned, confirming what she’d obviously gotten too. She messed with her hair. “I’m trying not to worry.”

She was, her face flushed and cheeks rosy. How was it this girl had not a stitch of makeup on and managed to look like a complete fucking wet dream?

Focus.

I wasn’t acting like myself either, coming out here and shit.

Mentally, I blamed that on my last few days. I pocketed my phone. “Come on.”

“Where we going?” she asked, but she followed.

“Obviously, to look for him.” I turned around. “You don’t want the help?”

I was being an asshole because I was an asshole.

She noticed.

Her eyes narrowed into hard slits, her nostrils flaring. “Don’t pretend like you want to help or anything.”

“I won’t,” I stated. Though, I was doing the exact opposite.

She must have wanted the help because she followed along with me. I got to watch her little ass cheeks as we delved deeper into the park, using nothing but our cell phones and the park lights for guidance. The park’s lights were few and far between, though. We were pretty much in the dark out here.

“Any reason why my brother would come out here?” she asked me. “After all, you and your boys are his new besties, right?”

Hardly. I smirked. “I think we both know why I was hanging out with your brother.”

I’d done it to get to her, point blank. Me hanging with Bru pissed her off and was completely intentional.

She silenced as we walked through prairie grass. It was reaching up to our knees at this point. “You’re full of shit.”

“And I’m sure you’re about to tell me about it.” I used my cell to push some grass away. “Less talking. More moving.”

“You know what? I am going to tell you about it.”

I lifted my eyes but did smile. I really liked bugging this girl, getting under her skin. I turned around. “Give it to me.”

She frowned. “You put off this big dick energy.” I started to bow for the compliment, but she shoved me. Laughing, I stumbled back. She growled. “But you’re full of it. I know you are.”

“You do?” I cuffed my arms, and she nodded.

“I know for a fact you got Bru on that football team. A permanent spot, and you wouldn’t have done that unless he could play.”

“He can play.” And I had no problem admitting that. “So what?”

“So you care,” she ground out. “You may act like you don’t. That you’re just some vapid dark prince who has no soul.”

“Dark prince, huh?” I danced my eyebrows. “Be careful, Noa Sloane. You might be accidentally complimenting me.”

“I’m not.” Her face hardened. “Because behind that dark prince is just some little boy who’s completely scared of his feelings.” She homed in. “Even though they all show all over his face and in everything he does. You do care. You care about my brother. I’ve seen your friendship. I see how you treat him.”

I eyed her, letting her talk but merely out of curiosity now.

She got in my face. “And you wouldn’t be out here helping if you weren’t his friend. Then there’s what you did for me.”

“And what’s that exactly?”

She chewed the inside of her cheek. “There’ve been things. Little things I’ve noticed.”

I noticed she didn’t delve into those. Was it possible the little fighter was scared of some feelings too?

You sure are.

Her throat moved. “You wouldn’t do any of that stuff if you didn’t care. If you had no soul—”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” I got in her face. “My soul died. Just this week actually, so congratulations. You have your dark fucking prince.”

I had nothing to lose anymore, no more sins to leave out on the table. I’d done the worst thing a person could possibly do.

And I’d do it again.

She scanned my eyes and didn’t fight me despite the fact I had her arm. I must have grabbed it when I got in her face.

“You’re a bad liar, Dorian Prinze,” she said, smelling too sweet this close. She wet her lips. “And what have you done?”

I didn’t like how she said that, cautious as if I were that tiny boy she spoke about. Like I was a little kid who needed coddling and protecting. I let go of her, and she grabbed my arm.

“Little fighter,” I warned, her hand coming up my chest. She touched me, my heart fucking pounding into her hand. Her fingers burned through my shirt, and I peeled them off. I dampened my mouth. “Sloane.”

She came closer, timid like she was worried.

But not for herself.

She got right into my space, our energies colliding.

“Do you ever let your guard down?” she asked, turning the tables on me. She frowned. “Or is it just so comfortable there in the dark?”

It was comfortable.

It was all I had.

It was me and my revenge, but somehow, this girl continued to fight her way through the layers of it.

My hand moved to her hip, and I opened my mouth. I had no idea what I was about to say.

The screams cut me off.