Page 21 of Barons of Decay (Royals of Forsyth University #10)

D amon

“Welcome to my office.” Spreading his arms wide, Bruin enters the student center like some kind of god. Or really, a fucking royal.

A few students scurry out of his way as he and the girl stride toward a table on the other side of the open space.

At least a couple assess me and Hunter, probably wondering who the fuck we are, but the majority of the attention is on his woman and her tight jeans and low-cut tank and the strappy hot pink bra showing underneath.

Spread across her chest is a massive tattoo, intricate wings spread from shoulder to shoulder, a skull for the insect's head. Between that, and her sturdy boots, I have no doubt she’d be fierce in the ring.

But the attention is short-lived, all eyes glued to the Baroness. There’s an attempt to be discreet, whispers and subtle glances. More than one of the guys gives her legs a longer than necessary appreciative look, and my hands curl at my sides.

I’d never spent much time in this building for one simple reason: Royals.

They seemed to congregate here during the day, staking out different corners of the room.

Even now there are cliques representing every frat.

The LDZ linger in a sitting area near the entrance.

They carry themselves with the vibe of unwavering popularity, their members having both deep legacies and pockets.

A few of the guys are in football letter jackets but most just have that frat boy look that makes me want to punch them in the face.

The sorority girls with them are attractive– respectable –an irony since it's widely known that their main source of income comes from a brothel.

Hypocrites.

Over by the windows, PNZ occupies a set of tables pushed together.

The cluster of men and women look like they should be in a perfume ad.

Maybe luxury cars. They look like a bunch of pussies, but the shake up in East End is well known.

Recently, their King, Rufus Ashby, was overthrown by his own sons and daughter.

The bloodlines of this group are so pristine their family tree doesn’t branch so much as twist into a single, complicated and perverted vine.

Hunter pulls out the chair for Arianette, who seems like she’s not fully with us.

Her eyes are wide like a deer in headlights, and before she sits, I slide underneath her, grabbing her by the waist, and pull her into my lap.

Her body is warm and soft, and I wrap my arm around her waist, anchoring her down.

“Remember,” I murmur in her ear, “be a good girl.”

She’s stiff in my lap, clearly overwhelmed from what happened outside.

That kind of ambush was bullshit, and I have no doubt the King will be pissed when he finds out.

That’s an issue for later, because across from us, the blue-haired girl gives Arianette a sympathetic look that I don’t appreciate.

As Bruin takes the final seat, I instinctively tighten my grip.

Mine.

Hunter looks over at a DKS leaning against a column a few feet away and says, “Who’s that?”

Without looking, Bruin replies, “That’s Kaz, current Duke.”

I lift my chin and he nods back, but he makes no effort to move closer.

“You’re DK, right?” Bruin asks. “Remy says you’re the only guy he recommends for piercings in Forsyth.”

I shrug. “Talent recognizes talent, I guess.”

“He’s opening up a new shop,” Nick says, tapping his ink-covered fingers on the table. They’ve got the letters D. U. K. E. across his hard, worn knuckles. “Down at the old Royal Gazette building.”

“Royal Ink,” I comment. “I heard Maddox was opening up a spot.”

“Guess news travels fast.”

“Among our shared clientele, I suppose it does.”

“How long is this going to take,” Hunter blurts suddenly, checking his watch for the time. “I’ve got a presentation across campus in–”

“You’re a Baron now,” Bruin interrupts, “ fuck presentations.”

“But it’s my–” Hunter begins, but he’s cut off again.

“You tell your professor frat business came up. He’ll chill.” He smirks. “Or better yet, he’ll just give you the fucking A.”

Hunter's expression seems to convey both horror at the idea and curiosity. At the very least he stops arguing.

The girl clears her throat and says, “Since no one introduced me,” her eyes shift to Bruin, “I’m Lavinia, the Duchess.”

“Lavinia Lucia?” Hunter asks, eyebrow lifting.

“ Bruin -Perilini,” Nick corrects.

She rolls her eyes. “We were hoping we could talk to the Baroness about some things.”

“She’s not answering shit,” I reply for her. Everyone knows there’s a DKS locked up right now for the kidnappings. And everyone also knows he denies it. It’s not a surprise they’d be waiting to pounce. “She’s here to go to class and go home. King’s orders.”

Lavinia nods, gaze shifting to Arianette.

“I love those shoes,” she says, looking down at the shiny patent leather shoes with a narrow strap and buckle.

As much as we ribbed her for dressing like a child, she looks entirely too fuckable in that short skirt and the knee-highs.

I got a semi the second she walked out of the chapel door.

If that wasn’t bad enough, the semi turned fully hard when she showed me her tits. I can’t fucking wait to sink my teeth into that metal bar and give it a pull.

Arianette looks back at me, and I realize she’s asking for approval to respond to the Duchess. I don’t really give a fuck, but it’s probably best not to start off on the wrong foot, so I give her a quick nod.

“Thank you,” she says, hands pulling at the edges of her sleeves.

Nick leans to the side and I start to reach for my weapon, when he pulls a roll of cash out of his pocket.

Peeling off a few bills, he hands them to Lavinia.

“LB, how about you go get something for you and the Baroness from the coffee cart over there. I need to talk business with the new Barons.” His eyes flick from me to Hunter. “As long as that’s okay with you.”

After everything that’s gone down today I’m not sure that I am, but the coffee cart is only a few feet away, and when I assess the area, I recognize a few of the guys sitting at the next table.

Shadows.

I guess Bruin isn’t the only one with backup.

They’re in regular dress, but I recognize them from recruitment. Pale-faced Carson stands just out of earshot, while Mateo, with his dark hair slicked back in a ponytail, sits at an unoccupied table nearby.

“I think that’ll be okay.” I squeeze her thigh, digging my fingers in a touch too hard. “You go with the Duchess for a few minutes. We’ll be right here.”

“Come on,” Lavinia says, encouraging her to follow, “they’ve got this incredible chocolate cold foam that’s as addictive as Scratch.”

Nick stares appreciatively at his Duchess’ ass as they walk off. When they’re out of earshot, Nick turns back to me and Hunter. “Schoolgirl vibe, huh? Who picked that out,” he assesses Hunter and winks. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

“What?” Hunter seems shocked. “She did that on her own.”

The fuck? Why is he looking at Arianette like that? The flare of anger– possessiveness– that surges through me is startling.

Confusing.

“Well it’s a bold first day move, especially for the King’s future bride, but what the hell, she pulls it off,” he continues, unaware of how close he is to losing those pretty blue eyes.

“So listen, it would help all of us if she could give us some details on what went down during the time she was missing. Anything would help. Sounds. Smells. Hot or cold. Inside or out…”

Hunter’s fist closes on his thigh and I wonder if he feels the same about anyone getting near the Baroness right now. I can tell this needs to be handled diplomatically, saying, “She’s not exactly in the state of mind for an inquisition right now.”

“Right.” Nick nods. “We’d be gentle about it. Lav can even be there if that helps. I know she can be a little crusty, but she’s even won the cutsluts, and they're as impenetrable as Fort Knox.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Hunter says. “She’s still recovering.”

“I’m not asking her to take us on a field trip. Just answer a few questions.” His tone is tense. “We’ve got a man taking the heat for these crimes and he had nothing to do with it.”

“Are you sure?” Hunter asks skeptically. “No other girls have gone missing since he was locked up.”

Bruin leans forward like he may grab Hunter by the throat.

The size of his body is intimidating as fuck, but he inhales deeply and says, “Yes, I’m fucking sure.

The goddamn police and that idiot Fed have tunnel vision.

” He grimaces and his shoulders slump slightly.

“But it’s not just about Ballsack. It’s the fact one of our cutsluts was snatched off of our streets and murdered.

Stella St. James was connected to both the Lords and Princes and she’s MIA.

Someone is cherry picking our women, including yours .

Four other girls are still out there, and if the police aren’t going to do something about it, then we have to do it for them. ”

I understand what he’s saying. It’s why the King wants us to keep the Baroness so close.

It’s why the Shadows are two steps behind, and that guy Kaz has his eyes on the Duchess right now and not Bruin.

I glance over at Arianette, who tugs at her sleeve and focuses on the cup of coffee as Lavinia speaks to her.

Hunter leans forward, elbows on the table. “The Baroness is getting acclimated to her new position. I’m sure you’re aware that the initiation process and early days of settling into these roles can be complicated.”

“Complicated?” Bruin snorts and relaxes back in his chair. “Try total shitshow. I locked the Duchess in an elevator overnight to keep her from running away.” His eyes flick over to his girl, warm and impressed. “That was a fucking terrible night.”

“So you know what we’re going through,” I say, although I doubt it.