Rogues of Regalia (The Rogues #1) Read Online Ruby Vincent

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Crime, Dark, Fantasy/Sci-fi, New Adult, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Rogues Series by Ruby Vincent
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Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 157308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
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“You’re so far below my level, the sun doesn’t reach you down there.” Strong, rolling energy washed over me, twitching my fingers against my thigh. How dare she speak so heartlessly about Winter. “You want to meet an inbred, low-class slut? Blow her kisses while you’re covering up that fat lip tomorrow morning.”

Saylor flicked the blood off her chin. “She opens her mouth and more filth comes out. We get it, Sinclair. You’re trash—just like your pathetic sister and gold-digging mommy. But if you’re going to our school and crashing our parties, the least you can do is respect the dress code. That is what you wear.”

I had a second to realize she was pointing at a guy wearing a trash bag, then they were on me. Saylor, Gabriella, and the girls slapped, scratched, and tore at me, ripping my cloud outfit to shreds.

“Stop,” I screamed as Piper yanked the mesh band underneath, nearly exposing my breasts to the hooting, cheering crowd. “Get off!”

“What’s going on here?”

Rafael broke through the crush, stepping inside the circle. Saylor and her crew backed off me in an instant.

“We playing a game?” he asked lightly, beaming away. “Rip off the non-clothes? That was meant for me.” Rafael grasped my arm and drew me behind him, standing between me and the harpy cunts. “I’ll go next.”

The four didn’t move. Torturing me for the crowd was one thing, but torturing me in front of the guy they were desperately trying to sleep with wasn’t so easy.

“Go on,” Rafael prompted when they didn’t move. He rolled his hips. “Tear off my leaves. Give everyone in the party a treat.”

I didn’t bother to stick around and see if they got their treat. I shoved through the bodies, racing onto the front lawn. Tears stung my eyes.

My cotton clouds were gone, leaving behind the lights—dangling off me and only hanging off from a few seams they hadn’t ripped. The mesh I used was opaque, but there wasn’t much of it. A thin band around my breasts and butt were all that was left. Another round of wolf whistles chased me onto the sidewalk.

Screaming, I ripped off the lights, flinging them away. I should’ve done more than punch that sneering bitch. Even after they ruined Winter’s life, they mocked her. Crowed on the edge of admitting what they did to her, with a grin on their faces like it was all a fun game.

Standing there on the sidewalk, half naked and bleeding from dozens of scratches, I added four more names to the list.

But first, Owen.

I ran down the sidewalk, searching for him and Lindsay. They had too long a head start on me. I didn’t see them anywhere.

Think, Luna. Think! He said he knew somewhere private and romantic. Is it his place?

If they went back to his dorm or his locked, gated, and guarded mansion, I had no chance of getting to him tonight.

But if it was his place, he could’ve just said that instead of going on about some lover’s hideaway. He also seemed pretty desperate for that blow job.

Owen got on his knees and made an even bigger ass of himself. Plus, the party was still going and there was a house full of women for him to sleaze on. Would he dip out an hour before midnight?

The shadowy, romantic spot could be on campus. It could be close by.

I started walking, stumbling toward the back end of Greek Row. My mind recalled the map of campus included in my welcome packet.

The other way was dorms and empty classroom buildings. If he didn’t walk over twenty minutes to the dorm, and he opted for a hookup spot nearby, that left the tree-shaded paths spiderwebbing from this side of campus to the soccer and football fields. Along the way, a small pond bubbled beneath a man-made waterfall. On the map, they dubbed it Fowler’s Retreat.

A scummy pond beside a bench was the kind of place an idiot like Owen Thasher would call romantic. The best part for him—he could ditch his date at any time and walk eight minutes back to the party.

I changed my number six times and had to get campus security to walk me to and from class. By the end of the semester, I barely left my room. He was always out there waiting to call me a dime-bag slut who should’ve taken it like a good girl and shut my fucking mouth.

Be there, Thasher. You better be there.

My pulse slowed as I made the trek, falling into an even, steady hum. A calm in my chest that didn’t spread to my fingers—jerking and drumming on my legs. They moved of their own mind, tugging on my hem, smoothing it down, scratching an itch, and twitching out of control.

It only got worse as I descended the fluorescent-lit path, a silent figure that couldn’t compete with the singing cicadas. I swept the trees, recalling the way to the pond. It was just up ahead.


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