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He has no problem trying to fuck me now. If my father’s hinting around the subject has any merit to it, I might be looking at my future husband at this very moment.

I pale.

Desmond frowns. “Loni? You okay. You don’t look so good all of a sudden.”

That’s because, with barely two months to go until someone Claims me, I know I’m only kidding myself that my future is mine. That any choices I make can change the life’s plan set for me the moment I was born into a family with connections to the Order of the Owed.

I won’t be one of the Used. A glorified mistress that is fucked and, well, used, then discarded. No protections. No prospects for any children. No hope of escape because if there’s one thing I’d learned from eavesdropping on my mother and her society friends when I was a kid, it’s that the men in the Order might tolerate their wives, but they will never loosen their hold on a whore their charter says they can keep on the side.

I’ll be a wife if I must, and like my mother, and her mother before her, I’ll overlook my husband’s indiscretions if I have to, but I won’t be little more than a pussy to a man who thinks he can rule with his dick.

A man like Desmond St. James is quickly becoming.

He’s eighteen now. I’ll be eighteen next month. According to the Society, I can be engaged—beClaimed—during the first Claiming ceremony after I’m of age. By August, I’ll know exactly who I’ll be Offered to, whenever he’s ready to make me his bride.

The men in the Order have until they’re thirty to be married, with an heir on the way. The heir part is negotiable, dependingon the wedded pair; the married part is not. So, on the one hand, I’ll be engaged in August. I could be married by Christmas, or waiting until I’m on my way out of my twenties if my groom is the same age as me.

Or I could be left waiting, one of the rare few who are raised to be an Offering with no takers?—

Knock. Knock.The doorknob twists.Bang.

“Desmond? You in here? Open the door.”

My breath catches in my throat as the familiar and undeniably demanding voice finds its way past the locked bedroom door. Desmond stiffens before letting my strawberry blonde strands slip free from his hold.

With an aggrieved sigh, he runs his fingers through his hair with one hand. The other gives a sorry pat to his blue balls as he awkwardly rises up from the bed. Taking the opportunity to make sure I’m decent, that my jeans are still buttoned and my shirt covers the rest of me, I slide to the edge of the bed and sit up, heart thudding inside my chest.

Adrian Heller.

The kingmaker among the Heirs. His uncle is Jack Collins, the current head—the currentking—of the Order. His cousin, best friend, and enforcer is Dallas Collins. Though Dallas is tapped to take over the Order when his father inevitably retires—passing the reins, as it were—everyone at Harmony Heights High School knows that Adrian is the one pulling the strings.

Desmond is both terrified and jealous of him. Adrian is the only one who can get Sebastien to even pretend like he gives a shit about the Order that rules all of us. He’s taken his future role as kingmaker seriously, lording over our age group for as long as I can remember.

He’s been my biggest bully for even longer.

My biggest tormentor.

My biggest secret…

Swallowing his annoyance, Desmond schools his features into an expression of nonchalance. At least, he tries to. As he approaches the door, it’s better to say that he has a look of constipation on his face. He’s still handsome in that slick, moneyed way of the St. Jameses, but then he pulls in the door, and I’m suddenly captivated by Adrian’s beauty.

When I’ve seen how cruel he can be, it’s not fair that, on the outside, he looks like an angel. From the tousled sandy brown curls to his tanned complexion, and the way his coloring makes his pale green eyes pop… lush, pink lips, sculpted cheekbones, how they hollow whether he’s puffing on one of his cigarettes or not…

Even at eighteen, his lean body is made for a suit. Adrian in a polo shirt with a popped collar and a pair of pressed jeans just isn’t right, but hell if he doesn’t look good.

He glances at me, dismissing me just as quickly as though I’m not worth his time or effort. I should be used to the sting by now. In a way, I am.

He jerks his chin. “There you are. Bas said he thought he saw you coming up here.”

So what did Adrian do? Knock on every door to see who had snuck away with who?

If I didn’t know better, I’d say no. But since I do know…

Desmond peers over his shoulder at me before facing Adrian again. “Just looking for a little quiet time with my girl.”

Adrian’s upper lip curls, gaze drawn back to me.

I give my head a royal shake, refusing to quail under his stare.