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Ashby wants thewhole frattocreate?

Wedged as I am beneath the long table, no one can see me here on my knees, my face in Pace’s lap. We were the first ones in the room, Pace having already been slouched low in his chair when he thrust a finger at the floor in front of him, commanding me to get into position.

Commanding me to unzip his pants.

Get his cock out.

Put my mouth on it.

Stay quiet.

Obey your Prince.

Now I’m holding the swollen head against my tongue, fingers digging into Pace’s thighs as he and his brothers oversee a frat meeting. Pace can believe it’s the covenants keeping me here, breathing softly through my nose, giving his cock the occasional suckle.

But I’m here for the intel.

“I don’t need to create,” the guy says, an air of indignant superiority in his tone. “Kira’s already six weeks pregnant.” The room falls into a tense silence, Pace’s muscles stiffening beneath my palms.

Wicker breaks it with an airy laugh. “Congratulations, Harker. You managed to creampie your way to excellence. Must suck to know your partying days are over, but our V-day party isn’t going to be your stag night.” Without waiting for a reply, he asks, “Any other motions?”

After a beat, someone speaks up. “I had a question.”

In a bored tone, Lex announces, “The Royalty recognizes Dory Baxter. Ask your question.”

A chair behind me scrapes as Baxter stands. “It’s about the Counts.”

“The Counts are toast,” Pace says, scoffing. He drags me closer to his lap.

There are some hushed whispers, and then Baxter replies, “If they’re toast, then why is there still so much Viper Scratch on the streets?”

My ears perk, and I give Pace another soft suck.

I can practically hear Wicker’s shrug. “Maybe they left a supply in West End. Lucia’s daughter is their Duchess. She’s probably coasting off the inheritance of her dad’s drug trade.”

The accusation makes my chest flare with scorching anger. In no universe would Lavinia or the Dukes allow West End to be a home for Viper Scratch. A big part of Sy’s reign has been snuffing Lionel Lucia’s influence off their streets.

Baxter seems skeptical, too. “I don’t think so. Loeffler says one of their Dukes is in recovery. Everyone talks about him going to that support group on campus. What does he say in there, Lex? You go to his meetings, right?”

Panic courses through my veins, because Remy needs those meetings. I know instinctively–alarmingly–that if Lex begins spilling his secrets, I won’t stay silent. I’ll reveal myself. I’ll do whatever it takes to cut him off–to keep Remy safe.

There’s another stretch of charged silence, and then Lex’s rigid voice rings out. “Our support group is neutral territory, Baxter. Are you asking me to betray that so they can turn around and do the same to me?”

“We need to know,” Baxter insists, not ungently.

“Then find out some other way,” Lex snaps. “Maybe past Princes were okay with disloyalty, but we aren’t. The next time any of you ask me to break my word, I’ll submit a motion to de-crown you.”

My blood rushes hot at the memory of his words during that car ride to negotiations. Lex Ashby obviously values loyalty above all else. The relief is fierce, because even in this room, among brothers and subjects of his own house, Lex is a man of his word.

A rare thing to find in Forsyth.

I keep the thought close, cherished, even though I know that on Thursday, I’m going to be spilling all of their secrets to Lavinia. The thought of betrayal should make me uncomfortable, but it doesn’t. I guess having Pace’s cock in my mouth for the last hour while being petted like a dog is a reminder of who has my loyalty.

The meeting continues with a brusquer tone after that. Motions arising. People recognized. Rory Livingston wants to organize a volunteer group to put up flyers for his sister, who went missing in late December. That’s approved. Matt Kramus wants to organize a car meet in front of the bridge, and if Loeffler is to be believed, it’s to show off his new Porsche. That’s denied.

I get this niggle of thought in the back of my mind that the covenants are constantly used to keep me in line, but I’m not the only one they apply to. Moving my tongue against the bottom of his cock head, I let my hand wander up, fingers curling around the base.

Pace goes suddenly still, the fingers in my hair pausing their gentle petting motions.