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I wouldn’t even want to look at him anyway, because he was probably wearing those ridiculous shorts he liked to run in. The tiny ones that barely covered his ass. They were tight as well. Kind of clingy. Not that I’d ever looked too hard.

But, I mean, I still had eyes. And when a six-foot-five royal fae with endlessly long legs and huge shimmering wings and an infuriatingly flawless face walked past you in a pair of skimpy shorts, your eyes were naturally drawn to him. It was just… instinct or something. Reflex. Yeah, reflex. He wanted people to look at him.

Which was why he also wore those tiny, clingy briefs to wrestle. He wanted all the attention. He wanted everyone to look at him and just wish they could receive his attention, be the one he noticed and looked at with his stupid hooded eyes that were all naturally sultry and that ridiculous, interesting mauve colour.

Well, I wasn’t going to give him what he wanted. I’d already risen to the bait enough times to land us both in hot water. I didn’t even want to interact with him, he just made me so angry that I couldn’t help myself.

But this time, I was going to behave. If he said anything to me, I’d just ignore him.

I could ignore him.

I could.

Chapter Three

You Can’t Talk to Royalty Like That…

Crossbody

This was my favourite time to run. When everyone else was gone and the room was quiet and empty, I could just clear my mind of all the thoughts that constantly churned in it, the worries that had plagued me for the last six years.

What if I’ve made a mistake?

Should I have just stayed in Otherworld and got married?

Am I deluding myself that I’ll forge my own life here?

Why don’t I feel fulfilled?

The only other time I could quiet those thoughts was when I was performing in the ring. Those moments were when I felt truly present in my own life. The physical exertion and orchestrated aggression, the bright lights and heat, the roar of the crowd.

The latter was perhaps what I loved the most. Not simply because I revelled in the attention, but because it felt earned. I worked hard for their adoration, and I was doing it my own way. It wasn’t the same as the Otherworld fae who simpered and fawned over me simply because I was my mother’s son. The fans loved me for me, not because of my royal title. It was real. And it came without expectations aside from performing well and being entertaining enough. It came without all the court politics and underhanded dealings and bitter rivalry with my brothers.

The rivalries with my fellow wrestlers were merely scripted. They weren’t real. They were safe.

Well, except for Vince.

He was ruining everything.

As if he had been summoned by the thought, I heard the door to the main room swing open and whipped my head around in surprise. I’d thought everyone was gone, but there he was—the last person I ever wanted to see.

My lip curled as I faced forward again. I was just going to ignore him. It would be easy, and it was what I was supposed to do anyway.

Not that anyone was around to know if we did talk.

But no. I would adhere to Corey’s ruling. It wasn’t like I wanted to talk to Vince. I despised him. Conversations with him offered nothing of value, even when they didn’t turn into a snarling match between us.

A part of me was curious about why he was still here, though. Of all the Goliaths, Vince was the least likely to stay later than necessary. To actually put more than the bare minimum amount of effort into his work.

It infuriated me that his performances were always so flawless despite that fact. That the crowd adored him and his ridiculous antics in the ring.

Those fucking roller skates. Such a pathetic gimmick.

I didn’t need a gimmick. My mere presence was enough to whip the audience into a frenzy.

Well, that and my abs.

And my ass.