Princes of Legacy (Royals of Forsyth University, #9)

by Angel Lawson

I wait for the panic to hit, the stress and worry, the compulsive need to just go check, but it doesn’t come. I’m met with an unfamiliar sensation buried deep in my chest. It’s warm and lax and void of fear. I think it might be contentment.

the one thing Father did was teach us that no matter what danger is coming our way, we protect one another because we’re family.” His fingers press down on my hip. “Wick loves you, Pace. I love you. Verity trusts you. And god, that baby is going to be so goddamn lucky to have you as one of his fathers.”

If I’ve learned one thing that ties the Dukes and Princes together, it’s that one simple fact. Verity deserves the best.

I shrug nonchalantly, but my stomach feels like I’ve just taken a leap off the sheer cliff over the river, and when the hell did that start happening?

“Sometimes it really fucks me up to know that everything I’ve come to love was given to me by Father.” I glance down at her belly, thinking even that hasn’t been untainted by his influence. But when I push my hand out, grazing against the heat of her stomach, I don’t feel the bitterness. “I used to wonder if it was even real, like maybe I’m just making the best of it, or maybe I’m so broken that I cling to the smallest crumb of warmth, claiming it like a parasite.” Immediately, she insists, “That’s not true.” “It was with Danner,” I argue, reaching up to take her face in my hands. I hold her there as I look into her eyes. “But it’s not with you.” “I love you too,” she says, repeating what I didn’t exactly say, but she understood anyway. “And so will he.”

Part of me wants to yell and scream, to tell them to get on their knees and let me ruin them the way they ruined me, but I’m made for something bigger than a moment of revenge. I’m made to be the mother of a king.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is low but strained, and when he glances at me, I see the regret. “I thought he was chaining me to him, and I resented you—everything about you. But I’m starting to realize that’s what he wanted. He never wanted us to think of you as a gift.” He rests his hand on top of mine and gives it a squeeze. “But you were, Red. You were a gift. And that’s what this is. Remember that.”

Lex takes the knife first, kneeling on the pillow with a crooked grin. “I want you to know this is fucking disgusting, and I’m running a million tests on you tomorrow.” Still, he slices his palm, placing it over the blood-soaked fabric with a grimace. “To create is to reign.” Pace follows, licking his lips as he kneels. “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” My laugh is half delirious. “Absolutely.”

“I love your eyes. I love that freckle behind your ear, and the stretch mark on your right hip.”

“I love this baby and everything it’s doing to your body. I love you, Verity, so fucking much.” I

I exhale shakily at the sight of her. I’ve watched this amazing body of hers grow throughout the whole pregnancy, but it still doesn’t fail to fascinate me.

“Motherfucker, I know you aren’t out here smoking weed when you were specifically told to lay off!” Nick holds up his hands, cool as a cucumber. “Just shooting the shit, baby.” Her glower lands on me. “You. Spill.” “We were smoking a joint.” Nick’s fist bangs into me. “Dude, what the fuck?” Shrugging, I say, “Her and Verity are friends. I’m not sacrificing pussy to cover up for a Duke. You’d do the same.” Still pissed, he replies, “Of course I’d do the same. Welcome to the super-shit club, Assby.”

“Our son will have the one thing none of you did—a mother. And mothers aren’t just here to love and care for you. They're also here to kick asses, teach manners, and show you how to treat women. Mothers,” she concludes, “show you something a father can’t always teach.”

“Aren’t you afraid she’ll fly away?” Truthfully, Verity sounds more nervous about it than I do. I’m not sure when that happened. “Yes,” I confess. But I look at Effie—at her wide eyes and craned neck as she takes in this big, wide world—and say, “I’d rather lose something I love than condemn it to a lifetime in a cage.” When Verity glances back, I give her a wink. “You taught me that.”

“I love you, Rosilocks Sinclaire.” Watching the force of my words sink in, the tears spilling over, I whisper, “So fucking much that every breath I take when you’re nearby feels like a thousand daggers to the heart. So much that if you told me right now you wanted to leave and take our son to a better, safer place, I’d…” Pausing, I admit, “Well, I’d fucking hate it, and there’s not a power in this world that could stop me from still watching over you, but—but I’d let you go.” A fat tear rolls down her cheek and I catch it on the tip of my thumb. “I understand now that you don’t cage the people you love.”

His first breath is this tiny, quivering thing, released in a cry just as raw with fury as his mother’s had been seconds ago. My vision swims as I take him in, and for a long moment, it hurts to breathe. He’s so small—so unbelievably fragile—and we made him with our bodies, with our minds, with our hearts. In two-hundred and sixty-four days.

“If you think I’m going to go looking for someone else, you don’t get me, but that’s fair. I haven’t always put myself out there. Vulnerability isn’t my forte.” He tugs at my hair, letting it fall over my shoulders. “I love you, Verity—every part of you—because you made me see that I could be so much more than an object to be sold and traded.” His cheek presses against mine and it’s wet from his own tears. “You made me into a man, and then you gave me the chance to be a father, something I never even thought I wanted, but somehow, you knew I was worth it.”

“You are my life. You know that, don’t you?”

“You glitter like diamonds, and you survive. But mostly,” I press a kiss to his pulse point, relishing in the thrum of his heart, “you love the hurt out of each other.”

It was the fierceness of Lex's soul, the blaze of Pace's devotion, and the ferocity of Wicker's heart that made me a creator. And ours will be a legacy of hope.