Chapter 3
Three
Daphne
Monday morning, I gave Blair the full dramatic rundown of what happened after I left the Devil’s Lair with Brooks.
It was the first time I’d seen her since she’d spent the weekend with Enzo. The two basically hibernated in his dorm now.
“Maybe Brooks wasn’t serious,” Blair said as I sat in my sleep alcove, still in my silk pajamas and only half awake.
“He was one hundred percent serious.” I scratched at my tender scalp. It’d taken half a bottle of conditioner to get Brooks’s gum out of my hair.
He’d pay for that.
“I know that man-whore like the back of my hand,” I added.
“But you hate him …”
“Exactly. When a man threatens to ruin your life every five minutes, you learn every detail about him. Babes, haven’t you read The Art of War?”
“No, but why am I not surprised you have?”
“Read it. Studied it. Took notes. Listened to the audiobook.”
Blair sat at the vanity, fixing a black ribbon around her ponytail. Our eyes met in the mirror.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what?”
“Not having better advice. I wasn’t exactly successful at the whole getting out of being a Fawn thing. Enzo won.”
“Actually …” I scooted to the edge of the bed. “Now that you’re his Fawn, we can use that to our advantage.”
She turned toward me, eyebrow raised.
“Enzo is Brooks’s best friend.”
She raised the other brow, still not catching my drift.
“It’s the power of the vagina.”
She laughed. “The power of the vagina?”
“Next time you’re having sex, stop right before Enzo comes and tell him he doesn’t get to orgasm again until Brooks leaves me alone.” I shrugged. “Easy-peasy.”
“Easy-peasy? No orgasm for him means no orgasm for me.”
I gasped, hand flying to my chest. “As your best friend, am I not worth the sacrifice of an orgasm?”
She sighed dramatically. “Fine. Only because I love you. But I’m making no promises. You know Enzo always gets what he wants.”
“Those fucking Sons.”
“Pains in our asses.”
“I’m creating my own secret society.”
“As long as there are snacks, I’m in.”
“Instead of underground tunnels, we’ll meet at spas. Instead of Fawns, we’ll call our chosen guys …” I tapped my lip, thinking. “Our pets.”
“Love that for us.” She grinned. “But until then, we need to get to class before we’re late. We can plan that first club meeting after.”
“Boo!” I grabbed my pillow and tossed it at her. “I’m world-building over here. Call me George R.R. Martin.”
“Class starts in fifteen minutes.”
“What?” I scrambled off the bed so fast I landed on my ass. “Shit!”
“Arisono’s late slips are calling your name!” Blair teased.
I yanked my uniform from the closet while mentally adding Brooks to my murder list.
“Enjoy your last night of not being scared of the dark.”
He’d be the one in the dark after I smothered him with a pillow.
I buttoned my shirt, tugged on my gray pleated skirt, and shrugged into my Saint Vale blazer.
There was no time to curl my hair, so I pulled half of it into a ponytail and added a pink bow.
Blair counted down the minutes as I slapped on mascara, eyeliner, and lip gloss.
I shoved my feet into my platform loafers, grabbed my bag, and let Blair drag me into the hallway.
We merged into a group of other students headed downstairs. Our dorm hall—Poenas Dare—meant to pay the penalty in Latin.
Every dorm here was named after some form of death or punishment.
Saint Vale wasn’t an ordinary university. It’d been built for powerful families who valued privacy over everything. They were pickier than NATO about who they allowed in.
A journalist had once called it a breeding ground for corruption and secret alliances.
Two weeks later, he had been found dead.
We hurried down the grand staircase, surrounded by Gothic arches, ancient stone, and stained glass. After two flights, Blair and I split up in the main vestibule.
“See you at lunch!” Blair called out.
“See ya!” I shouted back.
I rounded the corner, then screamed when someone grabbed my arm. I swung blindly, connecting with a shoulder, as he dragged me into the janitor’s closet.
“Jesus, Daphne!” a familiar masculine voice said. “Calm down.”
He released me, and an overhead light flicked on.
Cory blocked the door, rubbing the shoulder I’d hit.
I backed up into a shelf of cleaning bottles.
Cory and I had grown up together, so I knew my life wasn’t exactly in danger with him. But I didn’t like this whole dragging me into a janitor’s closet thing.
“What the hell, Cory?” I hissed.
He better explain fast unless he wants my knees in his balls.
“What the hell, Daphne? You agreed to be my Fawn.”
“I what?”
Cory dragged a hand through his black curls, looking as stressed as I was last time I lost my tiara. “Last week. When we were drinking in Randy’s dorm.”
That night came back in pieces.
I’d decided to skip the Devil’s Lair to avoid Brooks and a girl on my floor had invited me to a dorm party with the promise of margaritas.
Since margaritas and Doritos were my gateway to hell, I said yes.
Cory had been there, but I didn’t remember agreeing to be anyone’s Fawn.
Drunk Daphne made questionable decisions, but not that questionable.
“I honestly don’t remember.” I glanced toward the door. “Can we talk about this later? I’m already late for class.”
Cory shook his head violently. “It’s too late now.”
“Why?”
Annoyingly, that stung.
Wait. Why do I care if Cory rejects me?
I don’t want that life.
“Because of Brooks fucking Byron.” Cory kicked the bottom of the shelf hard enough to rattle the bottles. “Is there something going on between you two?”
“Ew! No! Absolutely not!”
He stepped closer, and I had to tip my chin back to meet his eyes.
His face softened a hint as he lowered his voice. “I want you to be mine, Daphne. Choose me over him.”
Does he actually think I have a choice in this?
Before I could answer him, the doorknob jiggled.
“Go away!” Cory barked, stepping away from me to stand in front of the door.
The door flew open anyway, knocking Cory into a shelf.
Who stood in the doorway didn’t surprise me.
My personal stalker. Bogeyman. Asshole.
Brooks fucking Byron.
He kicked the door shut. The look on his face told me someone was about to die.
Fingers crossed it wasn’t yours truly.
He cut his glare from me to Cory, as if he’d just walked in on Cory bending me over the shelves.
“Did you get fucking amnesia and forget our conversation the other night?” Brooks asked Cory.
Cory squared his shoulders. “You said not to touch her. You never said I couldn’t talk to her.”
Are these assholes really negotiating the terms of my life … while I’m standing right freaking here?
Cory moved closer, half blocking me from Brooks.
Brooks slowly ran his tongue over his teeth.
Oh. He didn’t like that.
I smirked.
Brooks pointed at the door. “Get the fuck out, Cory.”
Neither of us moved.
“Go!” Brooks roared.
Cory finally gave up and headed toward the door.
“Find another Fawn,” Brooks warned him as he started to pass.
“What if I want to be his Fawn?” I blurted without thinking.
Shit.
Why does my mouth insist on making my life harder?
Brooks slowly rolled his gum from one side of his mouth to the other. He kept his eyes on me as he stepped into Cory’s path.
“Move,” Cory demanded before shoving hard on Brooks’s chest.
Brooks snatched a bottle with a red DANGER warning label.
Oh no.
Then he went for Cory. He grabbed him by the shirt and drove him into the wall. Cory fought back, and they crashed into the shelves. Cleaning supplies went everywhere, and a mop nearly hit me in the head.
Do I help?
Do I run?
Do I just stay put?
Cory wasn’t small, but Brooks had him beat. He had more muscle and strength. And a lot more fucking crazy inside him.
Brooks pinned Cory against the wall and tipped the bottle toward his mouth. Liquid hit Cory’s cheek at the same time he slammed his elbow into Brooks’s ribs.
Brooks grunted but didn’t loosen his grip. Cory punched Brooks in the back of the head again, but Brooks barely reacted.
I squeezed past them.
Screw it. Let them kill each other.
I almost made it to the door when Brooks shoved Cory away and caught me around the waist. My back hit his hard chest. I dug my heels into the floor and fought him, but he didn’t budge.
He held me like I was a kid he was restraining during a temper tantrum. “My apologies, Cory.” He sounded anything but sorry. “I should show better respect for a fellow Son.”
Cory didn’t say a word, only looked down at the bottle in Brooks’s hand. My stare followed.
I gasped when I read the label. “What the fuck?”
The asshole was holding fucking rat poison, ready to pour it down anyone’s mouth, like he was auditioning to be the next Joe Goldberg.
Panic spread through me faster than the poison would’ve, and I jammed my elbow into Brooks’s stomach.
Again, nothing.
“But her?” Brooks sneered, tapping the edge of the bottle against my forehead. “I don’t owe her any respect.”
“Rude,” I huffed.
He tucked the bottle under my chin, and my attitude vanished.
“She’s obviously the source of conflict between us.” Brooks tapped the bottle once under my chin. “I’ll kill her, and she won’t be a problem for us anymore.”
“You fucking bastard!” I kicked backward at his shin, twisting violently in his grip.
Brooks just laughed, a low, maddening sound. “Given your deadbeat father is currently rotting in a prison cell, I’d say you’re the bastard.”
Cory watched us like we were speaking another language.
He didn’t get us. Most people didn’t.
Brooks and I had been doing this shit for years. Wanting each other. Hating each other. Usually both at the same time.
Cory wiped the poison from his cheek with the back of his hand, staring at the smear it left behind.
Do something!
He didn’t.
So much for wanting me to choose him. Jerk.
I hissed when Brooks suddenly wound my ponytail around his fist and forced my head back. He held the bottle over my face again.
“Daphne is either my Fawn or she belongs to no one.” Brooks tightened his grip on my ponytail, making my already-sensitive scalp sting.
He’d gone from killing me to owning me.
Classic fucking Brooks.