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

by Angel Lawson

“Let’s get one thing straight, Simon Perilini.” She takes a step closer, craning her neck to glare at me. “You might have saved me, but I’m not some wilting Victorian damsel who needs to be babied. I’ve been through a lot worse than some stupid dick-measuring contest with fists. You didn’t treat me like spun-glass before, and you’re not about to now.”

I only let my touch linger for a second, thinking that being shot wouldn’t be so terrible if she were the one pulling the trigger. Hatred is better than nothing.

It’s obvious the Lords are protective of Story. That’s how it goes in the Royalty. But it’s my first time realizing that viciousness can go both ways, because the hardness in her eyes is unmistakable. She’d kill for them.

“You said Royal bitches were weak. Which I thought was pretty funny, because I’ve known a few Royal women, and all of them had to bear one kind of torment or another. I thought to myself… Royal men couldn’t handle half the shit we have to put up with,” I toss the remote in the air, grinning, “but it’d be really fun to watch them try.”

“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.”

“What would you say if I told you I wanted to kiss you?” I drag the razor down, feeling the texture of the hair as I sever it. “I’d say I have a razor blade to your throat,” I mutter, focused on the task. “So tread carefully.” “I’d let you cut me,” Nick says.

“If you get any harder,” her eyes blink heavily, gaze coming to rest on my crotch, “that thing is going to smother me.”