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

by Angel Lawson

I stand still as he grabs my hand, exposing the ladder of scars made in dark, quiet places. These were etched to track the passage of time, and grasping my wrist, Wicker bisects them with a clean cut. “Family, always.” I barely feel the sting. Verity gasps, watching as he clutches my forearm, the wounds meeting. “On our blood,” Wicker says, which isn’t how the promise goes. It’s supposed to be made on his blood. On Lex’s blood. On our blood? Swallowing, I grasp his forearm, knowing it’s a stupid ritual. A Baron ritual. A ritual Lex has always hated but tolerated. But it’s still ours. “On our blood,” I promise, squeezing. The only thing that breaks me away from his gaze is the flash of crimson I see in my periphery. Immediately, I drop Wick’s hand, sucking in a sharp hiss. “What the fuck are you doing?” I knock Wicker’s knife out of Verity’s hand, wondering when she even took it. The blood trickles down her pale skin—shallow cut, thank fuck—but when I snatch her wrist, she just turns it in my grip, those obstinate green eyes trapping mine. “This is how it goes, right? Now our blood is yours?” When she strains up to brush our lips together, my fingers flutter over the curve of her belly. “Don’t,” I whisper when we break away, resting my forehead against hers. “Don’t take him away from me.” She doesn’t ask who I’m talking about—our son or Wicker, maybe even Lex too—which is good, because I couldn’t give an answer. I just know that I’m nothing without all four of them. She res...