Lords of Wrath (Royals of Forsyth University, #2)

by Angel Lawson

A dirty reminder of what I took. What she owed me. How poetic.

OWED SHE DONT OWE YOU SHIT NIGGA!

I won her. Won. Fair and fucking square. Even if she hadn’t chosen me personally—the true mark of victory—The Game’s score would still have added up in my favor.

This is all just a fucking game to you!

I’ve owned her ass since the day she moved in here—longer than that, even. Since the day we met, years ago.

I stab my fork into the casserole and blow on it, calmly announcing, “You’ll be sleeping in my bed from now on.”

Nah bruv. Fuck that

It’s finding out how hard they played me.

That’s what I see in the mirror. The reflection of a fool.

It’d seemed as if Dimitri—Rath—and Tristian were men I could curl up against, count on, trust. How unbearably pathetic.

I’m not exactly sure what he’ll do to the Lords, but I know it’ll make them regret toying with me. Until then, I’ll keep to the rules of the contract and be their Lady.

And then…when Ted is ready to make his move, I’ll watch them burn.

My mouth parts on a soft gasp. “Dimitri…” Killian goes rigid,

Hahaaaa GOOD

“We just need to break you in a little more, that’s all.” That effectively shatters the illusion.

The Lords will worship nothing but themselves, but this may be as close as any of them get.

I’m mad at him—at all of them. They lied and manipulated me with their stupid little game. They got me to do things I never would have. Degrading, exposing, violating things.

have to ask, “You’re serious about this?” “As a heart attack.” Slamming the trunk,

Much like Tristian’s Porsche, I’m a possession he means to have impeccably kept, carefully maintained. It’s dehumanizing. But the Lords are also the only people who have ever fought for me.

“See that red G-Wagen over there?” He points to a boxy-looking Mercedes SUV across the way. “That shit is getting lit.”

Lmaooo why he had to say it like that

I don’t think I’m ready to fuck any of them—not willingly.

The second I duck down, his hand rests on the back of my neck, thumb massaging into the muscle.

one thing Killian would never bring himself to give her; a simple word of praise.

The thought of finally—finally—having her the way I wanted, like a rag doll in my hands, fueled me during my morning jerk in the shower.

Rag doll??!! You're Fucking disgusting

Now, she’s mine, and it doesn’t matter that she doesn’t want me back. Now, I’ve won.

I wouldn’t mind sharing her with them if I thought they really appreciated her.

TF! They appreciate her more that you asshole

She gets under people’s skin. She makes them want her. She makes us want to hurt her.

I get this white-hot moment of utter chaos inside my brain. It’s the part of me that wants to fucking rip her apart. It wants to dig my fingers into her flesh and mark her with my bruises.

“Say it,” I demand, dragging my dick in and out. “Say my name.” There’s a stuttered breath, her fingers curling, and then a low, sleepy whimper. “Tristian.”

Hahaaaa gotchu bitch!!

My face hardens, because she has no fucking idea—no goddamn clue—how much I don’t hurt her.

But thats all you do is fucking hurt her!

This isn’t what I do. I’m supposed to find her in my bed, use her like my own personal toy, and then fall asleep, tired, fucked-out, and happy.

Maybe we’ve broken her. Maybe she’s dumber than I thought. Maybe she could be mine.

Killian didn’t trick me. I tricked him. I manipulated him into pleasuring me, and my stepbrother may be a monster, but he’s good at burying his face between my legs and bringing me off.

Hopefully Ms. Crane can suss out how bad it is. I’d pulled her aside before we left and asked her to see to Story’s…condition.

then I’ve got the three of you,” he adds, eyes darkening, “pissing in my goddamn corn flakes with your shoddy revenge schemes.”

Ngl this made me giggle

I get my hand loose and slap my stepbrother across the face,

Oh yeah, that was nice

“You’re mad at me,” he observes, head tilted as he searches my eyes. When he reaches for me, I flinch away. “Don’t.” His eyes go shuttered, that flawless mask of his clicking firmly in place. “Be mad, if that’s what you need. I’d rather have you mad than constantly at risk.”

it dawns on me that Rath had been the one to tell Ms. Crane to take care of me. To ask after my wellbeing. To make sure I wasn’t hurt. It doesn’t change anything.

Jesus. “Killian is such a fucking fuck.”

“People chip their pets because they’re important to them. Because they’re precious. Because they care for them.”

means the woods are lovely, dark and deep. But we have promises to keep.”

“Robert Frost?” She gives me a slow blink. “You were listening earlier?” I reach out to snuff the blunt into a nearby tray. “Who wouldn’t listen to a beautiful girl reading them poetry?

“The couch?” Excuse me?

a text from ‘Lord Tristian’. Discreetly, I open it under the table, completely unprepared for what greets me: a picture of his erect cock. Lord Tristian: T-Bone misses your pretty mouth.

A soothing bath, some weed, a massage, and… God. That orgasm.

What I’ve come to discover about Rath is that he doesn’t hurt me when he’s mad.

“Really yours,” he says, slipping away to walk to the car.

Oh shit! He got her a car

You didn’t care that it was expensive and shiny. You just liked the power beneath the hood.” He turns to me, giving me a knowing look. “Isn’t that right?” I can’t believe he even noticed that.

This one is like something out of a magazine. Sleek and flawless and… “It’s a Dodge Charger,” I say, still stunned.

Okay, maybe Tristian isn’t the worst. For now.

I’d gone to the back roads, really opening it up, getting acquainted with it. With every press of the clutch, I was saying, “Hello, my name is Story,” and with every shift of the gears, the car was saying back, “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Story.” When I adjusted the mirrors, I was saying, “I think we can be the best of friends,” and when it responded to my foot on the pedal, it was responding, “I think you’re right.”

Lmaooo im dead

A mere thirteen hours later, Marcus was telling me about her mixing it up with that old pervert, Cartwright. Old habits die hard, huh?

You keep thinking the worst of her. Im sick of your shit.

The whore really doesn’t fall far from the whore tree, does it? After all this time, she’s still looking for some fool to throw money at her. You can bet your fucking ass it won’t be me.

want her incapacitated like this because it’s the only time she can’t reject me. She can’t pick someone else over me. Not Tristian or Rath. Not the sugar daddies. Not my father. Only me.