Chapter 1
One
Daphne
Two Years Later
Iwas one of the very few allowed in the Devil’s Lair.
It was an underground hangout at my university run by the Night Sons.
Here, you never had to worry about noise complaints.
People wouldn’t take random pictures of you and sell them.
The downside?
The Night Sons were murderous psychopaths who could easily make anyone disappear.
I sipped my vodka cranberry while planning the rest of my night.
I’d have one more drink.
Just enough to get me tipsy, but not so sloppy drunk I’d lose my way back to the dorms.
Thanks to Blair, I knew better than to wander around Saint Vale alone at night. The rumors about masked men weren’t rumors.
My feel-good buzz lasted right up until Brooks walked in.
Brooks and I no longer had a let’s fuck on a desk relationship.
It was now more along the lines of I wouldn’t piss on fire to put you out.
He strolled across the Devil’s Lair. Jack the Ripper of My Libido looked annoyingly good tonight.
His dirty-blond hair was a disheveled mess. His suit was wrinkled, his tie gone, and his collar open.
He was officially done being the polished president’s son for the day.
Like always, he found me before he made it halfway across the room.
Also, like always, he stared at me like I was trash left in his favorite chair.
I was a Kenward. People used to want that name on their guest lists. Now, they acted like saying it out loud might get them investigated by the FBI.
I lifted my glass in a mock salute before taking a slow sip.
“Anddd here we go,” Blair said with a laugh beside me.
“What?” I asked innocently, keeping my eyes on him.
Brooks dragged a hand over the back of his neck as he headed toward the bar.
“What level of crazy are we getting tonight?” Blair shifted sideways on the couch to get a better view of him. “I’m going with … a seven.”
I gave him another once-over. He hooked a finger inside his open collar and tugged it farther from his throat.
Yeah, tonight was nowhere near a seven.
He’d attended a White House event today.
For Brooks, that was the equivalent of me being stuck in my luteal phase for a month straight.
He snatched the bourbon bottle and filled his glass nearly to the rim, as if enough alcohol could fix whatever had crawled up his ass tonight. After knocking it back, he wiped his thumb across his lower lip and poured another.
On his way back to the other corner, he flashed me the middle finger. I smiled sweetly and returned the gesture.
“I take that back.” Blair grabbed my arm, fully invested now. “He’s looking rough. I’m changing mine to a nine.”
“Fifteen for me,” I said as Brooks dropped onto the sectional with his back to me.
She released my arm. “Shit, you’ve never gone that high before.”
“His dad’s latest approval ratings came out tonight.”
“That bad, huh?”
I nodded. “That bad.”
“But they’re not his poll numbers.”
“He takes them just as personally. In Brooks’s head, those numbers are his odds of becoming president one day.”
“I’m changing mine to a ten then.”
“Nope. You know the rules. You only get one change.”
“Ugh.” She threw her head back. “I hate that rule.”
We didn’t play the game for actual money. We kept score, and at the end of every month, the loser owed the other a latte.
Blair tipped her head in Brooks’s direction. “I don’t get his hatred toward you, though. It’s not like you helped your dad.”
I took another drink, needing the alcohol more than I had thirty seconds ago.
“We can’t help who we’re born to. Some of us get good dads. Some of us get shitty ones.”
I nodded again, pretending to agree.
Our situations weren’t the same.
I still loved my father.
I hated what he’d done. Hated what he’d dragged me into. But I couldn’t make myself hate him.
Blair’s father, on the other hand, had been a cult-leading lunatic. A dead one now, thanks to Enzo.
Good fucking riddance on that.
The door Brooks had come through opened again—the one leading to the tunnels us non-Sons were forbidden from entering.
Enzo walked in with Cedric behind him.
Cedric never looked up once from his phone as he veered toward the guys.
Enzo beelined for us.
Very few people knew the Night Sons existed, but everyone on campus knew enough to fear them.
Brooks was dangerous because of who his father was. Enzo and the others were a different breed of lethal. Violence was stitched into their DNA.
We locked our skeletons in our closets. They used a shovel for theirs.
Enzo stopped in front of Blair, caught the end of her braid, and used it to tilt her face up before kissing her.
I rolled my eyes.
My poor friend had fallen in love with a psychopath.
On the bright side, he was a hot one.
All the Night Sons were unfairly attractive. It seemed being hot was a prerequisite, right alongside must be willing to murder.
Enzo wasn’t my type, though.
I preferred men who hid their crazy behind political suits, polished smiles, and rehearsed answers. The ones who could convince the entire world they were perfectly sane while I knew better.
AKA: Brooks Byron.
I looked back at Brooks to find him staring at me. I raised my brows, as if to say What?
He lifted the glass to his mouth and took a slow drink before looking away.
For once, I wasn’t in the mood to fight with Brooks. Not because I felt sorry for him or his father’s tanking ratings.
Screw those ratings.
I just wanted one peaceful Friday night where I didn’t contemplate homicide every five minutes.
“I’m heading back to the dorms,” I told Blair when Enzo sat down beside her and draped his arm over her shoulders.
Blair pouted. “You haven’t even had your last drink yet.”
“You and I both know I have a mini-bar stashed in our room.”
“Want me to walk back with you?”
“No, stay. It’s fine.” I stood and grabbed my Hermès bag.
“You’re absolutely not walking alone. It’s dark.” She swatted at Enzo’s fingers when he started untying the bow at the end of her braid.
“It’s a short walk back from the greenhouse.” I finished my drink and shrugged, as if it were that easy.
It wasn’t.
Saint Vale had a strict curfew.
Three strikes meant expulsion.
I already had two.
“A short walk I’m joining you on,” Blair insisted.
She started to stand, but Enzo pulled her back onto his lap.
“Daphne’s a big girl,” he said, holding her there as she wiggled, half-ass trying to break free. “She knows her way back.”
Enzo didn’t give a shit whether I made it back safely. As far as he was concerned, I could get murdered on the walk back as long as Blair stayed on his lap.
“On that note, you’re joining us on the walk.” Blair tipped her head back and smacked a kiss on his cheek.
Enzo tapped her nose before cupping a hand over his mouth and yelling, “Yo! Brooks!”
“Geesh!” Blair winced, lifting her head. “That’s my ear.”
Enzo kissed her ear.
Brooks looked over his shoulder, irritation already written across his face.
“Didn’t you say you were headed back to the dorms soon?” Enzo shouted.
Brooks checked his Rolex before nodding.
“Good. Daphne doesn’t want to stay late either.” Enzo jerked his head in my direction. “Walk back with her.”
I froze in place.
Absolutely the fuck not.
“Fuck no,” Brooks snapped at the same time I blurted, “Hard pass.”
At least that was one thing we agreed on.
Tipsy Daphne and pissed-off Brooks were a catastrophic combination.
“Take. Her. Back,” Enzo said.
Brooks rolled his glass between his palms. “Since when did I start taking orders from you?”
“Since I did you favors,” Enzo fired back.
Brooks drained his drink and stood. “Come on, Kenward.” He slammed the empty glass onto the table and swung an arm in my direction. “I’ll walk your incompetent ass back since you’re apparently incapable of crossing campus without adult supervision.”
See, Your Honor?
And that’s why I introduced his head to concrete.
Brooks hated me because my dad had helped orchestrate his father’s assassination attempt.
His father hadn’t even died. Not to mention, his approval ratings skyrocketed afterward.
You’re-fucking-welcome.
I crossed my arms. “I’m not walking back with him.”
Enzo closed his eyes and massaged his temples. “Swear to God, Daphne. If you don’t, I’ll revoke your access to the Lair.”
“What the hell?” Blair slapped his arm.
Yeah, right.
Blair would never let him ban me. Neither would his sister, Seraphina.
“I’d rather get murdered,” I argued.
“Quit being dramatic,” Brooks said with a snort.
I pointed at him. “If his crazy ass and an actual serial killer stood side by side and told me to pick one to walk with, I’d choose the serial killer. Hands down. Even if he was holding a chainsaw, revving it, and promised to torture me first.”
Brooks worked his gum between his teeth, looking far too entertained by that idea. “If torture is your kink, I’ll happily play into that fantasy.”
When he walked toward me, my stomach did that stupid twisty-twist it did when he was around. Sometimes it forgot the memo that we were supposed to hate him.
Brooks was well over six-three with all lean muscle. He was built more like a soccer player than a football player.
And that face?
Ugh, utter perfection.
In all the years I’d known Brooks, I’d never found a single flaw in his face. He had the kind of beauty ancient civilizations would’ve mistaken for a god.
Right before he burned everything they loved to the ground.
He stopped right in front of me and didn’t waste a second before lowering his mouth to my ear and whispering, “Why are you so afraid to walk with me, Daphne? Afraid you’ll want to fuck me again?”
“I’d rather you bury me in the greenhouse and use my body as fertilizer.” I shoved at his chest.
Well, tried to. He didn’t move an inch.
“I’ve had UTIs more enjoyable than fucking you,” I added.
“Funny. You weren’t saying that when you could barely stand after I made you come on the Resolute Desk.”
Yes, I’d fucked him that night. He’d taken my virginity and stolen my panties.
That was all Brooks knew had happened between us in that office.
Not what I’d done while his back was turned.
Don’t go there, Daphne.
I tried to shoulder past him, but he shifted with me, blocking my escape.
Brooks ran his tongue over his teeth, as if deciding how much of an asshole he wanted to be. “Fucking you was the biggest mistake of my life.”
I flinched at his words. At his lie.
This was the Brooks the public never saw. America’s golden boy was just a mask.
Underneath it was America’s biggest asshole.
I stood on my tiptoes and gave his chest two little taps. “That’s not what all the texts you sent me that night said.”
He stared down at my finger, as if debating whether to break it. I stepped around him and headed for the exit before he could respond.
“Fucking Kenward,” he grumbled while following me.
I tried to slam the door in his face. His hand shot up, stopping it.
Damn it.
He stayed on my heels through the underground corridor and all the way to the ladder leading up into the greenhouse.
I was halfway up when he smacked my ass. I kicked backward, but he caught my ankle and nearly pulled me off.
“Asshole!” I ripped my ankle free and scrambled the rest of the way up.
I stormed through the rows of plants and shoved open the greenhouse door.
Cool autumn air my face. Moonlight washed over the campus courtyard.
I barely made it two steps toward the main building before Brooks caught up and slammed me into the greenhouse wall.
He kept me pinned against it with an arm around my waist and braced his palm against the glass beside my head.
“Get your fucking hands off me,” I snarled, trying to kick him in the balls, but he blocked me.
He leaned in until our mouths almost touched. Cinnamon from his gum filled every breath I took.
“You once begged for these hands to touch you,” he taunted.
Memories of the Oval Office came rushing back. They were vicious little bitches. My personal bullies.
“Hell will freeze over before I do that again.”
He tightened his hold around my waist. “Don’t make me do it, Daphne.”
“Do what?” Damn my voice for coming out shaky.
He slid his thumb under my jaw to tip my face higher. “Make you my Fawn.”
No. No. No way.
He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.
Brooks said nothing else, just stood there and let me panic.
When he did release me, his threat still stayed wrapped around my throat. It didn’t even loosen when he backed up.
If Brooks made me his Fawn, I wouldn’t just be in enemy territory. I’d belong to my enemy.
He spit his gum into his palm and stuck it into my hair. “You said you were fine walking back alone. Enjoy your last night of not being scared of the dark.”
My hand flew to my hair. “Did you seriously just—”
He turned and walked away.
I could barely breathe as I stood there and stared at his back.
Once upon a time, being a Fawn had been my dream.
Now, it was my worst nightmare.