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

by Angel Lawson

“My head is killing me. Just tell me what to write.” I stare at him. “You want me to tell you what to write.” He stares back. “Yes.” “And then write it for you.” His tongue peeks out to prod his lip ring. “Yes.” “And then read it aloud, so you know what it says.” He sweeps out a hand. “Exactly.” Sighing, I push the laptop away. “Maybe I should turn it in for you, get the grade, and collect your whole fucking degree while I’m at it.” It’s too sharp—too insubordinate—but I can’t seem to get a handle on these feelings. I hate that he was able to hurt me so badly. I hate it more than I hate him. From across the room, Tristian makes a sound, low and strained like an aborted chuckle. Rath fixes me with a tight look, asking, “What’s got your panties in a twist?” “You have to put in some work here, Rath!” There’s this instinctual response to the way he straightens, a grim darkness falling over his features that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. The spite pumping through my veins overpowers it. “I’ve made this as easy as possible, but you’re not even listening. You probably couldn’t even tell me what the last poem was about.” Annoyed, I shut the laptop. “You can’t just coast through life by manipulating people into pleasing you. I’m not some starry-eyed co-ed you can con into doing all your busy work. I’m your Lady. Maybe it’s time you started treating me like one!”