Page 147 of Dukes of Peril

“Big Dick Energy.” Remy ruffles Sy’s hair, chuckling at his responding glare. “What? I mean, it’s not even a metaphor. You can whip that sucker out and prove it if they ask.”

“Remy.” Sy’s tone is exasperated, and his cheeks are red, but I see the smile playing on his lips. All that angst and anger about his oversized cock has vanished.

“No, you’re right,” I cut in. “The gym is perfect.”

Nick’s fingers are already flying over the touchscreen. “I told Payne. It’s all set.”

“I need you to lean forward like this,” Remy says, refocused on the tattoo.

“Hold up.” Sy grabs his wrist and looks at me. “Will you do it?”

I freeze. “You want me to tattoo you?” But Remy is already waving me over.

Sy shrugs. “It seems… fitting.”

Nick snorts. “I knew it bugged you that she inked me and Rem, and not you. Just admit it.

“I’mnotjealous,” Sy declares.

“He’s definitely jealous,” Nick tells me, helping me sit up. “But you should do it, because you look hot as hell when you’re holding that gun.”

“Devastatingly hot,” Remy agrees, making room for me between his legs. “I’m hard just thinking about it.”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “You’re always hard.”

That much is confirmed when I take my seat, the solid press of his cock obvious against my backside. Sy’s right, though. As Remy preps me to take over, Sy’s hand landing warm on my knee, this does seem fitting. The sharp scent of the sterile gloves. The prick of the needle. The speckles of blood as the bear comes to life beneath our hands.

If my first act as Queen is marking my King, then I’ll count myself lucky.

We spendthe next few days in a tense sort of limbo, as if someone’s going to leap out at us and take revenge for killing Saul. It’s the reason for the vote, I’m guessing. A house like DKS could turn in on itself so easily with this many hot-headed cubs. Luckily, Bruce doesn’t show his face, and if any of the other guys are displeased with Sy’s leadership so far, they don’t make it known.

The whole house, including the Dukes and their Duchess, makes a convincingly somber appearance at his funeral. In a way, it’s the kind of poetry I’d wanted from his death.

Saul Cartwright, Forsyth University athletic director, dead from an apparent suicide.

Just like Tate.

I spend the whole service rigid, anticipating an appearance from the other Kings–my father among them–but they never arrive. In a perfect world, I’d never even have to see him again.

But Forsyth has never been perfect.

“You said the mayor’s coming?” Sy asks, watching the doors to the gym. His eyes are sharp and placid, and when he reaches up to adjust the bolt on the punching bag, the ring on his finger gleams in the overhead lights.

From his spot on the weight bench, shoulders forming a casual curve, Nick bounces his chin, loading a round into the rifle between his knees. “Treasurer, too.”

It’s been five days since Sy became King–two days since Saul’s joke of a funeral.

Remy paces back and forth and I track him with my eyes, wishing he’d sit down. “This is a lot of orange,” he’s saying, shaking his head disapprovingly. “Killer might clear, but the others are a problem. Three doesn’t make white.”

Sy releases a sigh, stripping the tape from his fist. “I know, Rem. I’ll be careful.” Despite the fact he’s meeting with the other Kings–and prominent members of Forsyth government–in approximately forty minutes, Sy’s still wearing a long pair of athletic shorts and his usual sleeveless workout shirt. He refuses to change for them, to give them the respect of treating them like Royalty, and it makes my stomach churn nervously. They’ll take it as a slight, and however much I hate my father and the Baron King, this posturing is done for a reason.

Wringing my hands, I try again. “Are you sure you don’t want to maybe put on–”

“I’m sure.” He approaches me with an exasperated look, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “Baby, I can’t let them lead. This is my house.” His eyes flick around the gym. “They’re going to have to take me as I am.”

The rifle clicks as Nick slams the bolt forward. “Young, dumb, and full of cum.”

Sy whirls on him, thrusting a finger. “Hey! At least two of those are patently false.”

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