Page 43 of Wicked Knight

I expected her to worry. I left her with a lot to think about, and I practically dropped a bomb on her that bound her to me all six ways to Sunday.

I scared her when I gave the reminder of the blood oath, but I know I scare her anyway because she doesn’t know me anymore. Not the way she used to.

The Valkyrie contract was created way back when by a bunch of seniors who wanted to fuck with the system. The idea is to bind a girl to you for six months to a year, and she has to fulfil the contract. It’s not so much the contract that binds you. It’s the blood oath ritual, something that’s usually performed when a Knight is initiated, married, judged to death, or executed.

That’s why it’s binding, and whoever came up with the idea knew the dangers behind it.

The thing is, she was right to ask me to set her free. I just didn’t want to.

I stare at her, and I want to get lost in those lips again. I want to spread her out naked on my bed and eat out her pussy until she’s screaming my name, then I want to fuck her raw until it hurts, but even then, I’ll make sure she’ll be begging for more.

The slight nudge on my knee from Kade warns me that I’m looking too much, taking too much of a risk.

If he’s warning me, it means…

Slowly, I turn my head, and I find my father staring right at me. He’s watching me watching Mackenzie.

Fuck.

He hardens his gaze on me, the disgust in his eyes evident. Then he looks across at Mackenzie and gives her the filthiest look I’ve ever seen on a person.

Out the corner of my eyes, I watch the blood drain from her cheeks.

“Varðu þér, miðvörður. Þú ert of augljós,” Kade whispers in Old Norse, which translates to ‘Be careful, linebacker. You’re too obvious.’

He’s speaking the dead language to me because he knows I’ll take it seriously. He also knows the guys just in front of us don’t understand what he’s saying. They’re freshmen who wouldn’t have been taught the full extent of the secret language of the Knights as yet.

I give him a curt nod and look back at my father, who is still looking at Mackenzie like she’s he wishes he could walk up to her and pull the life from her body.

Father blamed her for Tommy’s death. I don’t know how he thought that was okay.

He hates that she can’t remember what happened. And that she was the reason for the disaster.

Even if she could remember something to prove her father’s innocence, my father wouldn’t believe it.

He thinks she must have done something to instigate the situation, and he doesn’t have a high moral opinion of her. He’s the kind of man who would blame a woman if she were attacked or raped. He’d say shit like she must have brought it on herself or what did she expect if she was wearing revealing clothing.

More than once, I’ve heard him call Mackenzie a slut. He’s never done it in front of me. Despite the situation, he knows I wouldn’t stand for it, and he doesn’t want to provoke a situation like that between us.

Father returns his gaze to me, and I look away, staring ahead.

Focus and concentrate.

He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know what I was thinking about when he caught me watching her.

He doesn’t know what I’mstillthinking about.

He doesn’t know what I’m planning to do with her.

It’s not like I had my dick hanging out of my pants. Or my mouth open with drool sliding down my jaw.

And even if I was doing either of those things, my father can’t do shit to me. I’m a Knight, on the elite, and I’m a star athlete.

The most he could do is make life difficult for me and guilt-trip me about the past.

For all he knows, I could have been looking at Mackenzie because I hate her. He wouldn’t believe that entirely, but he’s never sure. That’s my leverage.

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