Dukes of Madness (Royals of Forsyth University, #5)

by Angel Lawson

We hated him. We learned from him to make being at his side seem worth it, but we looked into the abyss and it looked back, leaving its mark on us just as sure as the ink on our skin. It made us a little bit of what we couldn’t stand about the man, and now we have to pick it all apart, find the stuff worth keeping.

“I’m a psych major,” he replies, checking my knuckles for damage, “and you’re the poster girl for daddy issues. I have so much material to insult a girl like you with that it’s actually funny.” “Know what I think is funny?” I ask, offering a cutting smile. “The fact that men fail at fatherhood on such a statistically massive scale that there’s an actual term for it, but somehow it’s used to insult women.”

“Newsflash, Little Bird. We’re all a little bit psycho. The difference between us and the rest of the world is we don’t hide it from you.”

I’ve lived so long without any choices that I’ve forgotten the havoc they bring. To choose is a freedom. The freedom to win. The freedom to lose.

One of those drawings became the inspiration for a tattoo on my forearm; a two-headed bear cub. Sy and Nick. My perfect little fucking malformations.

Winning her from the Lords, forcing her onto her back… those were shortcuts. The easy way. Cowardly tactics that would have never earned me anything real. I understand that now. Gaining the real things—the loyalty, the smiles, the tenderness, the respect—these take the kind of work that can’t be rushed or gained through hurt.