Page 37 of Dukes of Peril

I lick into her mouth instead, biting back the guttural whine threatening to break free from the pit of my chest. Her hand tugs my tie, beckoning me closer, and it roars through me like a wildfire.

Acknowledge.

My dick throbs with want, so hard that I know she can feel it against her belly. But when I tangle my fingers into her hair, I don’t make a fist, pulling and fighting. I cradle the curve of her skull and think about that day on the floor. The way she looked at me. Her fingers against mine. The curl of her laughter.

Let it go.

When I pull away, I don’t go far, tipping my forehead against hers. I don’t open my eyes because I’m not ready to see her answer. I breathe in the scent of her instead, the warmth of her body against mine, the sensation of her fingers clutching my jacket.

If the world ended right now, I’d be okay.

“Pizza.” When I blink my eyes open, she’s staring back, mouth puckered into a thoughtful curve. “Way better first date food than this fancy crap, don’t you think?”

Grinning, I take her hand just as the car pulls around. “Only one way to find out.”

7

Lavinia

When I first enrolled atForsyth, it became clear that one of the guys would always be close, if not doggedly on my heels. Waiting outside class. Following me to the library. Even with the tracker, they didn’t trust me. I had no autonomy, which was fair. I planned to run at the first opportunity.

Back then I’d been forced to comply and pretend we were one happy Royal family. But I’d watch the other frats around campus, putting on a display with their house girls, and think about how controlled they are, how pathetic. Story’s Lords follow her everywhere, their bodies inextricably linked. The black cuff wrapped tight around her wrist looked more like a manacle than a fashion accessory. Then there’s the Princess, with her shiny hair and perfect features, doted on by three rich boy clones, keeping tabs on their potential heir. Regina, the Baroness, who I only ever catch rare glimpses of, walks around campus with three sentient shadows, her head always cast just slightly in their direction. And I could never forget Sutton, the Countess, wasting away from viper scratch, her shoulders knobby and eyes glazed over and vacant.

All I ever saw were women and their leashes.

I see things a little differently now. These Royal men are given a woman to protect and keep. To produce a legacy. To possibly love. We’re the most valuable thing they own, and as much as it rankles my nerves to accept that I’m a possession, after everything we’ve been through, I’m no longer hostile about their hovering.

There’s a target on all of us, all the time, especially if your last name is the same as a King.

Of course, it doesn’t hurt that there’s a certain prestige that comes with being Royal, something I never experienced as the less-worthy daughter of Lionel Lucia. It’s also not a hindrance that my Dukes are ridiculously hot, and one in particular has very recently become my personal orgasm-giving machine.

These things bounce around my mind when we’re all finally back on campus. We present a united front, and we are more cohesive than ever, albeit at various levels of functioning.

A bit of the tension eased with Sy after our date, and Remy seems… better. I guess. He stopped puking and has started eating again. His complexion is better, although half of his face is hidden behind a thick layer of blond scruff that he scratches incessantly. His one arm is held back in a sling. The guy they met at the gym didn’t push it, but Nick and Sy have. From my reading, it makes the most sense for him to keep it stabilized as much as possible.

But the biggest indicator of how he’s feeling is the persistent bounce of his knee and the rapid fire tapping of his marker against the table.

“That’s it,” Nick snaps, reaching across the distance and snatching the marker out of his ink-stained fingers.

“Hey!” Remy cries.

“Nick!” Sy growls, but it doesn’t stop his brother from flicking his wrist, sending the marker sailing across the student center, into a group of students, beaning one right in the forehead.

He snickers, pleased with the accidental bullseye. “Fuck, did you see that?”

“Go get it,” Sy says. “Now.”

Nick rolls his eyes. “No. He’ll just start tapping it again, and I just can’t fucking take it anymore.” He turns a pleading look my way. “Little Bird, I know things have been tense between you two, but maybe if you just gave him a BJ—”

Sy slams his notebook shut. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Remy is pointedly quiet, eyes cast down at his blank drawing pad.

“Jesus,” I mutter, scooting my chair back. “I’ll get it.”

Nick bolts up, realizing he’s pushed it a step too far. “Christ, just–I’ll go.”

“No.” I press my hand into this chest. “Let me. Sit and think about not being a dick for a minute.”

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