XIV
Royal
T he amount of effort I’m putting into day one of training is way more than needed. JKU is not a sports college. No scouts are coming to see us, and no one on the team needs them too.
The closest some of the guys will get to basketball is being a team’s lawyer. We’ll win our games regardless of how well we play, because that kind of thing looks good on paper.
There was a time when that bothered me. That, regardless of my skill—and I’m not actually that bad—the outcome is predetermined.
But so is everything else in my life.
Except for the effort I put in.
And it’s not because I want to finish the season knowing I played the best that I could, but because the more time I spend in the gym, the less time I spend around Tori.
It’s only been one day, and the only way I can stop the blood going to my fucking dick every time I think about her, is by making sure I’m using it in every other muscle.
After our first training session, I stay behind with most of the guys to use their gym. There’s nothing here that the one in the house doesn’t have, except for Tori. By the time I leave, I’ve been there by myself for at least an hour.
It’s about ten and the house is quiet. After a quick shower, I pull on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, then go to grab a protein shake from my fridge.
Only the fridge is empty.
With Syn moving Tori into the house, Seamus hasn’t been in and restocked. Irritated, I head downstairs to the kitchen, but the fridge doesn’t have any either.
I swear to god, if none of those fucking initiates remembered to at least order some before they finished their duties, I’m going to wake them all up and have them all get their asses in front of me with bottles before the sun comes up. And the last one to arrive will have that bottle rammed up their ass.
Gritting my teeth, I head down to the basement. Seamus has a storeroom with extra supplies, and I’m hoping there’s a pack down here.
Strangely, the lights don’t come on automatically as I go down. They’re already on. I check the gym in case Syn has decided to have a late-night workout—there’s no way in hell Gem will be down here—but it’s empty. And then I see the door to the utility room is ajar.
As I get closer, I can hear the washer running. Just as I get to the door, it clicks that it’s obviously going to be Tori, but by then, it’s too late, and I’ve seen her.
She has her back to the door. Her head is bowed slightly as she clutches onto the washer. Blue hair falls against… black silk.
Just like that, all the energy I put into training is proven pointless as my dick springs into life.
Syn chose all of Tori’s clothes. And right now, I honestly cannot make any sense as to why the hell he chose this fucking thing. The silk nightdress has nothing more than a ribbon for straps, showing off her shoulders and arms. It falls against her skin, and with her slightly bent forward, barely covers her ass or hides the outline of her panties.
She hasn’t seen me, and I’m about to back out before she does, but my feet don’t seem to want to move. The longer I stand here, I realize she’s not moved either. I’m not even sure if she’s aware that I’m here.
Has Syn finally gotten his wish and broken her?
Why do you care?
I’ve already had this conversation with myself: let Syn do what he needs to and keep away while he does it…
“Tori?”
What the fuck part of that is staying away? Dickhead.
Tori jumps, and her back tenses. But when she turns around, she’s standing tall with a weird smile on her face. Like one of those robots.
“How can I be of service, sir?”
“Sir?” I arch an eyebrow before I shake my head. “Just Royal…”
My eyes drop from her face to the new jewelry around her neck. I’ve never seen anything like it before. There’s a thick silver chain around her neck with herringbone links—like a man’s necklace—but this one is about as thick as my thumb. Instead of being closed in the normal manner, there is a hoop on each end.
Threaded through the middle, hanging a couple of inches lower, is another chain. This one looks more like the kind of chain you’d use on a bike or gate, although the links are much smaller. There’s a padlock locking one end of that chain to maybe the midway point of itself, leaving the other end dangling towards her cleavage. At the end is a small silver disk.
There’s something written on it, but I can’t see, so I move closer to her.
PROPERTY OF SYNCLAIR KEYINGHAM.
What the fuck ?
I pick the disk up, the metal’s warm in my hands. As I do, the chain pulls the first two loops closer together. With a little more pressure, the chain will be uncomfortably tight around her neck, but it doesn’t seem long enough that it can be taken off without the lock being removed.
I’d had no idea about the previous collar until Syn had put it around Tori’s neck at her initiation. With her on her knees, staring up at us, wearing nothing but that collar, it had looked hot as fuck. I kinda liked it when Syn said she had to keep it on, until she’d walked into our house still wearing it, and I kept having very vivid memory flashbacks of that night.
This one…
“Property of Synclair Keyingham?” I ask her, dropping the chain.
She shrugs. “Aren’t I?”
Signing up to be an initiate makes her the property of the Elite but fuck the rest of them. “I had you first.”
“Then take it up with Syn or get your name added to this thing.”
“You don’t seem to care.”
Something flashes through her green eyes, but it’s gone so quick and replaced by the weird Stepford Wife smile. “Do I even have the right to care? I’m just another thing for you to own, aren’t I?”
If her brother had never killed JP, this would be playing out much differently. I knew when I found her in the security room she was different. Despite all the people I’ve fucked, she’s the only one I’ve wanted to come back to for more.
But she is Cole Reynalds’s sister.
The sister of the guy who killed my best friend’s brother.
I’ll never have the opportunity to see how this could have played out differently.
And I can’t let myself care.
“What are you doing here?” I ask her.
“Feeding the chickens,” she says, deadpan.
I fold my arms.
“Washing the maid uniform for tomorrow,” she says, gesturing to the washing machine. “Or do you mean here in general? Because that reason hasn’t changed. My brother is innocent, and I’m going to prove it.”
“He confessed.”
“And I’m a virgin.” Tori folds her arms, mirroring me.
I wish she hadn’t, because all I can focus on now is her tits.
“Anyone can say anything, but it doesn’t make it true. And there’s no evidence to prove Cole’s innocence or his guilt.”
Jesus fucking Christ, this woman is either stubborn or stupid.
“You knew Syn was a student here before you enrolled, right?” I ask her.
She nods. “I thought I would be able to do what I need to and avoid him. Honestly, I didn’t come here with the intention of hurting him.”
Raking a hand through my damp hair, I sigh. “Even if you didn’t know until you arrived here, he’s made it very clear what he thinks of your brother—and you. And yet, you’re here in the house Syn lives in, looking for evidence to what? Exonerate your brother over his brother’s death?”
Before I even know what I’m doing, I step forward, placing both of my hands on her shoulders, only my grip is gentle.
“Tori, there are parts of the initiation that can be very enjoyable and fun, despite what you have to do, but the rest, no matter how it’s dressed up, it’s hazing. You’ve not seen the tip of it yet. But you’ve signed up to do all that shit by yourself, with a whole society who hates you. And that’s before Syn starts driving. This won’t get easier, and even if I help you, it’s not going to do much.”
She looks up at me, her eyes widening as she tilts her head. “You want to help?”
Ah, fuck.
“That’s not—”
“Why?” she asks.
The sound of the washer fills the room as I stare at her. She reaches up and cups my cheek, and I sigh. “Because Syn wants to destroy you, and Syn always gets what he wants.”
“Why do you care?”
“What makes you think I do? JP might have been Syn’s blood brother, but I was closer to him than I am to my own brothers.”
Her thumb gently strokes my cheek, and fuck me, there might as well be a chain around my neck, because somehow, my face is moving closer to hers.
“Help me, Royal,” she says, quietly.
I don’t know if it’s her moving first, or me, but the next thing I know, we’re kissing.
The little voice that points out she’s the little sister of the guy who murdered my friend goes silent when she wraps her arms around my neck, clinging to me like I’m a lifeline.
The only thing in my mind now is her.
Tori smells of cinnamon, and I swear, she tastes of it too; the familiar spicy burn fills my mouth. Either way, all I know is I want more. More of her.
Because of who I am—who my father is—people come to me all the time, asking for things. It’s rare that I’m unable to deliver, but most of the time, I turn them down anyway.
Syn’s the one who likes to collect favors.
Tori is the first person who’s come to me for help like this. I may have repeatedly questioned her sanity at coming here, but at no point have I considered her weak. I doubt she really needs my help.
But I’m glad she asked for it.
Even if I’m not sure what I’m able to do.
I let go of her shoulders, only so I can follow the lines of her body down to her ass. Cupping her, I pick her up, but before she can lock her legs around my waist, I place her down on the edge of the washer.
Breaking the kiss, I stare up at her. Her lips are already dark and swollen.
With one hand to support her, she leans back and with her other hand, she brushes the bright blue hair over her shoulder. The only thing between me and her breasts is the nightdress, but instead of removing it, I feed my hands under it so I can grab the elastic of her panties.
I step back just long enough to remove them, then I place a hand on each of her knees.
She’s watching me, her wide green eyes, still silently asking me to help.
Pushing her nightdress back to reveal her pussy, I use two fingers to gently part her lips. Then I lean forward, running my tongue along her, before I arrive at her clit. I feel her shudder as I suck hard, playing with the little nub with the tip of my tongue.
Tori lowers herself backwards, angling her hips upwards and giving me a better angle. As her fingers thread through my damn hair, I swear I can hear her repeating the words, “Help me, Royal,” over and over again.
All I can do is ravish her pussy with my mouth until her words become incoherent moans, and she’s contracting around my fingers.
Standing, one hand grips her thigh while I use the back of the other hand to wipe her juices from my face. She’s breathing heavily, watching me through hooded eyes.
I’m hard as a rock, but I don’t move. I just stand there, staring at her until the washer finally slows. As the machine comes to a complete stop, silence filling the room, my gaze drops to her chest.
Specifically, that chain resting on her pink skin.