Chapter 13
Thirteen
Enzo
Rituals were a beautiful thing.
I revered them with the same severity I reserved for threats.
Skipping classes on Fridays was another ritual of mine. Four days a week was more than enough time in academic hell.
Since I wouldn’t see Blair in class, I’d texted Cedric to ask what she wore. To see if my little Fawn had followed my instructions. He’d replied with a photo of her not wearing my shirt.
It seemed her near-drowning experience hadn’t been persuasive enough to teach her obedience. I had no tolerance for unruly Fawns.
They made me look weak. Lower-ranking Sons looked up to me. The Elders watched my every move to make sure I was fit to be in charge.
Blair’s pathetic excuse of following Arisono’s rules meant nothing to me.
My rules outweighed hers. Outweighed everyone’s.
Everyone watched Blair stand, grab her bag, and leave the cafeteria with me. I loved the way her cheeks reddened. My cock twitched at how her soaked shirt clung to her body, and her nipples poked through the wet fabric.
I needed to see them in person before I lost it.
Needed to wrap my lips around them because it was all I’d thought about last night.
My pace was so quick that I was surprised my shoes didn’t fly off my feet. Like last night, idiots stared.
Blair struggled to match my speed. “Where are we going?” she called out.
Since I owed her nothing, I didn’t respond.
We climbed two flights of stairs, and when she veered toward the corridor that led to her dorm hall, I caught her bag and tugged her back.
“This way.” I shoved her toward the next flight up.
She tore herself from my hold and stormed up the steps. When we reached the landing, she pivoted, planting her hands on her hips and waiting for my next direction with full attitude.
I wiped the side of my mouth, stepping into her space and settling my hands on her shoulders. Her bag dropped off one of her shoulders as I turned her to the right, steering her in that direction.
Only three halls existed on the third floor. Malum Hall claimed the east wing, and I was its only resident. I’d rather drink poison than share four walls with some loser.
We reached my gate, and I pulled the padlock key from my pocket to unlock it. The gate wasn’t for my protection, per se.
It mostly existed to keep others out, especially those stupid enough to think rifling through my belongings would earn them leverage over me. I’d once found a professor trying to slide under the bottom.
He no longer worked here.
He was also no longer breathing.
When I had enrolled in Saint Vale, I demanded a private hall. I took the tour, decided I wanted Malum Hall, and kicked the current resident out.
The hall fit me, sitting on the far end. The light was limited, with only small sconces. Two of them were burned out. No windows or photos graced the walls. The door was as black as the night.
Before moving in, I had the space remodeled, ignoring Arisono’s protests about defiling centuries-old architecture. I knew that wasn’t her biggest problem. She had been pissed that I was the one doing it.
Those who had come from First Benefactors looked down on those who hadn’t. We were new to the Night Sons, inferior in some eyes, but I found it to be the opposite.
Malum Hall was also personal to her. Her grandfather, father, and the Son she had served as a Fawn had resided here. In her eyes, it was sacred real estate I didn’t deserve.
Blair followed me through the opening, and her body tensed when I locked it behind us. Her loafers squeaked against the floor as she dragged them along the corridor.
I opened my dorm room door and motioned for her to enter. She wasted time peeking inside, so I shoved her through the doorway and slammed the door shut behind us.
She stopped in the middle of the room, looking around, taking in the small details of my most personal space.
“Is this your dorm?” she asked, turning to me and furrowing her brows.
“No,” I said. “It’s a fucking dungeon.”
It was a fair question. My dorm was nothing like hers. It was bigger. A king-size bed sat against one wall instead of being crammed into an alcove.
Three black-stained windows lined another wall, hidden behind curtains thick enough to choke out any light trying to get through.
So yes, if I closed them, it became a dungeon.
I’d left them open today. I didn’t want to freak her out too much.
The rest of the room was dark wood and clean lines. I liked my space clean and simple. A kitchenette occupied one corner with a full espresso bar setup. A real bar was tucked into the cabinets below.
Blair narrowed her eyes at me.
“Sit, Blair.” I gestured toward the cognac-colored leather sofa pressed against the wall.
She stayed where she was.
Fine. I crossed the room and shoved her down into the cushions myself.
Last night, she’d agreed to be my Fawn.
But agreement without understanding meant nothing.
I peeled off my jacket and draped it over my desk chair.
Her gaze shot to the door, as if thinking about running.
I gave her a smile that invited the attempt.
Technically, there were rules for selecting a Fawn.
We had to perform an Ask. It was a sacred tradition.
I could choose her, but she still had to accept. It had to be private. Both of us clearheaded. Consent had to be binding and free of fear.
Which meant not while I was shoving her head under water.
Personally, I gave no fucks about the Ask.
Blair had agreed to be my Fawn, and she would be my Fawn, whether she liked it or not.
But first, I’d try to play by the rules.
I pushed my hands into the pockets of my slacks. “Thanks for coming with me.” The words sounded almost comical, coming from my lips.
“I was forced here,” she shot back, folding her arms and leaning back on the couch. She tugged at her wet shirt’s hem. “Stripping in front of my classmates wasn’t how I wanted to start my weekend.”
I inched closer, not enough to crowd her, and kept a careful distance. Still, I noticed her breath catch and her chest rise faster.
“Last night, you asked me what a Fawn was.”
She gave a single nod.
I rotated the gold ring on my finger. “Fawns are made for Night Sons.” I pressed a hand to my chest. “Made for us.”
She didn’t seem too surprised at my being a Night Son.
Not surprising since Jett had opened his big-ass mouth. I was sure Daphne had sprinkled pieces of information in there as well. For some reason, we left her alone. The Havens would probably poison us if we touched her.
“What do Night Sons do?” she asked. “What’s the point of them?”
I decided to give her the simple version. The sanitized one.
“We make sure Saint Vale scandals don’t surface and problems are corrected privately,” I explained, hiding the grimness that went along with it—like that we made people vanish without noise, among other crimes.
She raised her chin, squinting up at me. “And a Fawn?”
“A Fawn is a woman placed under our protection.”
Her face scrunched in displeasure. “That tells me nothing. Try again.”
I enjoyed yet loathed the snark in her tone.
“What exactly do I need protection from?” she asked without giving me the opportunity to try again. “And what’s the price of this protection? Hard pass on being some guy’s fucktoy or whatever label you want to dress it up as.”
“You wouldn’t be a fucktoy. You’d be claimed.”
Her jaw tightened. “Claimed by who?”
“Me.”
She flinched at the answer.
When I sat down, she shoved herself as far away as the couch allowed. Unlike last night, I didn’t stop her.
“If you’re my Fawn, you’re protected from the outside world and everyone here,” I said. “Students. Professors. No one touches what’s mine.”
“Am I protected from you?”
I ignored her question. “That protection comes at a cost. As my Fawn, you’re a reflection of me. Every move you make becomes mine. Your choices and mistakes are mine. It may sound scary, but trust me when I say, refusing will be worse for you.”
I didn’t waste my breath telling her how esteemed a Fawn’s position was. Some families would go to great lengths to have a Son select their daughter.
Being a Fawn opened up more doors than any degree or title could.
Her voice dropped low. “Why me, Enzo?”
I shrugged. “You caught my interest.”
She fiddled with her shirt button, looking everywhere but at me.
“You can refuse,” I stated, since it was required.
But I was lying to her.
I’d never let her refuse me. I’d break the Ask rule if I had to.
Her body curled forward as she grumbled, “You didn’t sound big on letting me refuse while attempting to drown me last night.”
I paused, debating whether to apologize to her before deciding against it.
Apologies didn’t exist to me. I couldn’t remember the last time the words I’m sorry had left my lips. Probably never.
“You can refuse,” I repeated. “But refusal doesn’t mean that nothing will happen. Refusal means nothing protects you. Saint Vale—this world—can be a very dark place, Blair.”
“The choice you’re offering is no choice at all.”
If Blair tried to bow out now, I’d ruin her life.
I’d spread rumors about her, and then I’d make Arisono expel her. And the people she cared about? Well, accidents happened.
“And if I say yes, you won’t kill me?” she asked slowly.
I studied her for a long moment. “If you behave, I won’t kill you.” I twisted the ring around my finger. “We have rules. A Fawn cannot be killed without cause. And even then, not without process. Like I said, a claimed Fawn is protected.”
That was the truth, though I never listed the full costs of becoming a Fawn during Asks.
Fawns didn’t exist because we were lonely or desperate. They existed because a Son with nothing to lose became dangerous. Our Fawns and rank were always at stake, and losing either was worse than death.
Fawns were leashes crafted with care. Even if that care came wrapped in cruelty. We needed something visible, fragile, to remind us we didn’t have to be monsters every second of the day.
They were there to tame us. To slow the violence inside us.