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“You just described every Lord out there.” They’re raised to believe that. I’ve seen it firsthand with my father and how he’s raised my brother. A Lord can do no wrong. They’re rewarded for being evil. The more creative they can be, the more they are praised.
“They’re not all the same,” she argues.
I snort. “Okay.” Not believing that. She has a sister and a brother. I don’t feel sorry for Miller. He’s just another Lord who thinks he can do no wrong. But her sister? That’s a different story. Laikyn is a couple of years younger than her, and Whitney’s two years younger than me. I’m going into my senior year at Barrington, and Whitney will be a sophomore. Whitney isn’t as sheltered as her sister is, though. I feel sorry for Laikyn. She has no clue what her life will be like once she attends Barrington. My mother has never hidden my future from me.
You will belong to a Lord, and if you’re lucky, you’ll die young.She once said that to me after finishing off an entire bottle of wine one night when I found her crying at the kitchen table because my father didn’t come home for dinner. I’m always confused as to why she cares about what he’s out doing because they hate one another. They married because their families told them to. Not for love. That’s how relationships work in my world. Two families are combined for power. Marrying because you love someone is unheard of.
“Here you go.” The guy hands me my new drink, and I don’t miss the way his eyes drop to my hard nipples. I’m still wet from the pool, and it’s freezing in this house.
Thoughts of Saint have me looking around to see if he’s in the kitchen, and I’m disappointed when he’s not. He looked so fucking good. He always does. And the way he ripped my drink from my hand?Whew.Maybe I wanted to take the chance of it being laced with something? Bet he never thought of that. It’d give him a reason to take care of me. I’d do anything to be in his arms, even if that meant being unconscious and unable to remember most of it.
There are more ways than one to accomplish that. I toss it back and take a gulp, gasping at the strong taste of vodka and …blackberry? “Fu…ck,” I breathe.
The kid winks at me. “It’s an Aunt Roberta.”
As if I know what the fuck that is. I take another drink, and it throws me into a coughing fit.
Whitney slaps my back. “What the fuck did you give her?” she growls at him.
“An Aunt—”
“I heard you the first time, jackass,” she snaps. “What the hell is in it?”
“Straight alcohol,” he says in a duh voice.
It runs down my chin and onto my chest, forcing tears from my eyes. “I’m…fine.” I gasp, coughing once more. Hitting my chest, I take a deep breath, and the burn intensifies.
“Jesus, Ash, are you trying to kill yourself?” Whitney mutters.
Shaking my head, I cover my mouth with my free hand while the other still holds my drink. Whitney tries to take it from me, but I step back, gripping it tighter. “I’m fine,” I tell her. Getting under control, I quickly look around for Saint, but again, there’s no sign of him.
I’m not the type of girl who waits around for a hero. Or wants a Prince Charming. They’re the good guys—boring. I want someone who I know will fight for me. Even if they have to cheat to win. And that’s exactly what a Lord is raised to do—fight. It’s in their blood. All they know.
I take a sip this time and smile at the kid staring at me expectantly. I nod. “Good. Thanks.” Then I turn and head toward the stairs as Whitney hollers at me. I ignore her, pretending that the music is too loud to hear her. She doesn’t understand what I want or need. Just like me, her future is already set in motion. We can’t stop it, so we might as well make the best of what we have now.
School starts in a couple of days, and I have three weeks before I become someone’s bitch. I hate to think that I might not be Saint’s chosen.
A chosen is given to a Lord. She is his reward for going three years without pussy. She will serve him sexually no matter how depraved his fantasies might be for his senior year. But no one knows just how dirty my thoughts are. How much I crave for him to use me. In our world, we’re brought up to be needed. Most won’t understand it, and that’s okay. But no matter what a Lord says or does, he needs a woman. Those three years of initiation are like you pulling a rubber band taut and holding it. Once you let it go, it’s going to fly. Telling a man he can’t have sex for those three years and then giving him someone to use is just like that rubber band.
Making my way upstairs, I suck down a few more drinks. Each one is so strong that it makes me think I’m going to vomit, but I manage to keep them down. I enter the room and am thankful there’s no strobe light in here. Just dimly lit with blue lights that trim the walls and along the baseboards. Men and women sit around drinking, and smoke fills the large space from those getting high.
I spot Saint immediately over by the pool table. His back is to me. I drop the towel and toss it to a kid sitting in a chair. Haidyn sees me first, and he chokes on his beer. I’ve grown up around all the Spade brothers because of my brother. I’ve spent many summers and vacations with them because our dads are close friends. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about all three of them in my bed with me. But Saint is the one I think of the most. In my dreams, he’s the one who ties me up and lets his friends have their way with me.
Haidyn slaps Saint’s shoulder, who turns around to see what he’s staring at. His green eyes drop to my legs and slowly run up over my body. Goose bumps cover my skin, making me shiver, and my nipples harden. When his eyes meet mine, his already sharp jaw ticks, and I can’t help but smile.
I take another gulp of my drink, and he rushes over. Grabbing my free hand, he yanks me from the room. I giggle when he pulls me into another one across the hall. It’s just the two of us.
“Something wrong?” I ask.
“Jesus, Ash. You can’t walk around in just your bathing suit,” he growls. “Where are your clothes?”
“It’s a pool party,” I counter, sucking down more of my drink. I want it empty and barely able to stand. The thought of falling into him sounds like a good time.
He crosses his arms over his chest, and I begin to drool at the way he glares at me. Heat rushes up my spine, and butterflies fill my stomach. I want to feel his hand wrapped around my neck, choking me. I want him to make me beg to breathe while my legs are wrapped around his waist.
I take another drink.
“Where did you get that one?” he demands.
