4. Rurik
FOUR
RURIK
If there is one thing I know after the first trial, it’s that I want that broody blond fuck.
I’m painfully hard and it takes all my willpower to not follow him out of the forest with my dick like a homing beacon. More specifically, I want my cock all the way down his throat—maybe while I’m holding a knife to it.
The way I know he’d look up at me with a promise of revenge and not an ounce of fear really does something for my dick, and I am hard for it.
Do I have a thing for people fighting back? I may have to explore this.
I look longingly in his direction as he walks off into the dark.
I don’t want him to leave, but I can’t exactly follow him out of the forest. First of all, it’s against tradition or whatever long-standing Legacy blah blah blah.
But secondly, there would be way too many questions from the rest of Legacy members.
A few of which I’m unfortunately related to, so I can’t avoid them.
I don’t need my brothers in my business like that.
Especially Locke, so I have to play it cool.
At least as cool as my crazy ass can be.
Thirdly, we always have a party after the opening challenge.
If I don’t show up I’m going to have to deal with a whole lot of questions.
But if I don’t follow him I’m going to need to figure out his name so I can find him.
Who can I enlist to help me that won’t be a fucking snitch?
I’m not usually the chaser in sexual situations, so my twin will ask too many questions, not to mention messing with a potential prospect for Legacy has its own implications. No one on the board would like me appearing biased. Not even my damn mother would support me chasing my dick.
Which is all this is. Just an itch I need to scratch.
I’ll get him out of my system, and that will be that. It’s always the case. My obsessions come and go, and I need to chase the excitement, or I start doing off-the-wall stuff. Better a fuck than burning a building down. It’s not a big deal.
We head to the Vault, the on-campus building for the Legacy Of Power, where we hold meetings, hang out, and where most Legacy business happens.
Champagne is popped, and most everyone proceeds to get exceedingly drunk and normally I’d join them, but the back of my brain has an itch, and it’s in the shape of a pretty blond guy.
I casually pour drinks into plants while the rest of them proceed to get drunk off their ass, celebrating the start of another year and the election of our new leaders. My older brother being one of them.
At least these mother fuckers won’t notice when I leave early. I’m about to slip out when I spot Kingston, my cousin, across the room and make my way over to him.
“King! Do you have the list of prospects?” I’m gonna keep it cool and chill so he doesn’t take this shit to my brother.
“I haven’t put together the list yet.”
I put on a whole act, pressing the back of my hand to his forehead. “You? Not finished? Are you feeling okay?”
“I have some of them—the ones that pinged my monitors—but some of them need a little more investigation.”
I raise my brows. “So what you’re saying is you’re not doing your job?” I’m just giving him a hard time.
“Fuck off. Not everyone comes to the information the same way. Do you expect me to think like every single person who gets in here? I hope not. That’s what fresh meat is for, so we get different skill sets.” King glares, playing right into what I want.
“Do I expect you to outsmart a bunch of freshmen? Yeah, kinda?”
His lip curls and his eyes narrow, but he doesn’t speak for a long moment. “You know I’ll get them. Why do you want it?”
“I’m bored and want to play.” While it’s the first time I’ve asked for the list, it’s not really outside of who I am as a person, so he doesn’t balk at it.
“I’ll send you what I have. But tonight I’m having fun, so I’ll get you the rest in the morning.” He pulls out his phone and hits a couple of buttons, then nods. “You should have it.”
“How many are you missing?” I casually pull out my phone to check the information. I didn’t count the prospects, so I don’t know how many it’s short.
“A couple. Not many.” He’s noncommittal, but I don’t take it personally.
“Cool. Thanks.”
“Don’t do anything to get me in trouble with your brother.” He pleads with his eyes, but it’s more of a warning.
“I would never dream of doing anything to put my ass in the fire. You should know better.” I lock our gaze and take a sip of my beer.
“At least I know you’re good for that much. I know you’re not making your own life harder.” He laughs, then clicks his bottle to mine. “And I’m not going to ask. I’m going to keep deniability on this one.”
“Good choice.” I wink and walk off, heading right out the back of the Vault.
Now to go find my new toy. Thankfully, any event at the Vault is members-only so I can slip out easily.
We don’t let non-members inside the Vault, so I don’t have to deal with the usual fleet of guys and girls trying to hook up with Legacy members.
Not that I object most of the time, but it would be a red flag if I was rejecting everyone, since I’m a proud equal opportunity whore under normal circumstances, and either my nosy best friend or twin brother would notice if my behavior changed so drastically.
I get to work checking out all the new prospects and since there aren’t that many it’s going to be easy to find him.
But he’s not on the list.
I should have fucking known he’d be the one not to get caught. He’s reserved. I can tell already. And that’s how I found myself in the admin building at two in the morning. At least I didn’t have to break in. I’ve got a key, so am I really breaking any rules? I vote no.
It takes far longer to flip through new student profiles than I want to admit when I could have just waited until King uses his magic touch to find him for me in the morning, but whoever said patience was a virtue was lying.
Waiting is bullshit. And I don’t need the questions that might come with asking my damn cousin.
All that matters is I found him. So what if it took hours? I could be doing worse things like drugs or killing people or whatever. It’s better when I’m not bored.
Ash Conrad.
I might have a few loose screws. Who am I kidding? It’s more than a few, but I know when I’ve got an itch inside my brain I need to scratch it. And there is something about Ash that makes him impossible to forget.
Once I have his name, it’s easy to find out where he lives. He’s in one of the exclusive buildings on campus, reserved for high-profile students, which means his parents have money, and from legitimate sources too, because his parents aren’t members of the Velleity, or we’d already know who he is.
So why does he want into Legacy?
He’s already rich. It’s strange…and it makes me want him more. I love a mystery.
I do a quick Google search of the name, but nothing comes up.
So either he’s been scrubbed from the internet, or his name is an alias.
Could he be that high profile? He did say he came from some duke line?
I wonder if he’s got bodyguards and all that?
The math isn’t math-ing, and it makes me more fucking curious.
So curious, I find myself standing outside his building for a bit of recon work.
What are you hiding, Ash Conrad?
He doesn’t so much live in a building as an old mansion. These places have amenities regular students aren’t offered, allowing them to get the ‘college experience’ but at the same time not sacrificing any of the luxury or safety they are used to. Most students couldn’t dream of affording it.
But it’s all overkill. No one on Exitier campus, in the middle of nowhere New Hampshire is expecting any issues. Crime here is basically nonexistent. Especially at four in the morning. So I’m not shocked to find his window wide open for me to scope out.
Because God smiles on me, there is a massive oak tree near-ish to his second-story window. It’s almost too easy.
“They think you’re safely tucked away in your room, don’t they?” Maybe safe from someone without a sparkling personality disorder and a lot of free time.
I don’t let little things like walls and personal space stop me.
I find a comfy place in the tree with a great view of his window.
It isn’t long before he’s awake. I glance at my watch. Five A.M., long before the sun this time of year. Ew. Why? Insomniac? Classes don’t start for hours, and most college freshmen aren’t in the habit of rising until they absolutely have to.
I’ve never been a big fan of sleep. Too much of it makes my brain fuzzy, and it’s such a waste of time. I’d rather be a little bit tired than groggy. But this is usually about when my brain finally gives out for the night, so I can get a few hours before I have to get up for class.
So what is he up to?
“Don’t tell me you’re a morning person, Ash.” I shift, getting blood flowing back into my limbs after sitting in the tree like Edward Fucking Cullen for the last hour.
He dresses methodically, like it’s a ritual.
Interesting.
Show me more, baby.
It’s almost like watching an oiled machine. I don’t think I’ve ever thought so hard about a task in my life. Not even a murder let alone getting dressed. My brain hurts imagining living my life like that.
“Why are you wound up so tight?”
Watching him only leaves me with more questions and no answers.
He’s out the door in under ten minutes, in tight track pants, a skullcap in school colors, a threadbare sweater, contradicting the elegance of the building he resides in, and a windbreaker. How very European of him.
His ass looks as good as I remember it feeling, so figuring out where he lives and waiting outside was clearly worth the view. My decisions are great.
He tucks his head and slips into a car that pulls up the second he sets foot out the door. This is entirely too well rehearsed.
Since following him home turned out to be such a good idea, I hop out of the tree deciding to keep it up.
I’m glad I have my bike. She’s too loud to follow anyone inconspicuously this time of the morning, let alone being lime green. I give him a few seconds lead and start up my bike. I keep my lights off and follow at a distance, but it’s not far. They pull into the university boathouse facility.
A rower?
I didn’t know real people crewed. I thought it was one of those sports that is mostly fake, but universities put on their websites to seem prestigious to prospective donors, for the “Olympics”, like that’s not also fake nonsense, or when they want to play Weekend At Bernie’s with the King Of England, since even he looks lively compared to rowing.
Maybe the rowing explains his accent. He’s got to be from one of those countries that gets even less sunlight than here, where they cross-country ski for fun. It’s all adding up.
I should go home and take a cat nap before my classes, but I can’t tear myself away from the hunt. Whatever Ash is, he’s an enigma, and what should turn me off just makes me want him more.
I keep out of sight of his car, leaving my bike down the road. I walk around the building to head him off at the river, not really sure what my plans are, but unable to stop myself.
I need a taste.