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search for my inner calm, tucking away all my frustration and… Fine, I’ll admit it. Jealousy.
The object of my obsession is talking to Verity and cleaning up the leftovers, and my eyes are drawn to her like a magnet.
THE OBJECT OF MY OBSESSION?!?! LIKE ARE YOU KIDDDING MEEE!?!?
In fact, ever since her return, she’s been the model Duchess. Attentive to Remy. Civil to Nick. Obedient to me. The problem is that she’s a female. A woman. A Royal woman. Making men soft and compliant is what they do to gain control.
N: Withdrawn. Exhibiting signs of injury but predictably unwilling to speak about it. Low mood, irritable. Subject being a little bitch.
lol
He stares at me like he’s trying to see me, the real me, the one who is no longer a part of the Count’s world but a Duchess—and that’s who I work for—who I protect.
If I’d met this version of Nick when I was a kid, I would have fallen head over heels.
“You really are the perfect Duchess.” My jaw tightens, and I yank the tape to break it, jarring his arm. “It helps when you get to actually have a choice in the matter.”
Everything I said to Nick about why I’m helping him is true, except one omission. If this house falls apart, then I have nothing left: no home, no friends, no protection, and as much as it hurts to admit it, no family.
It’s a fucked up place to be, watching the girl I love fall for the men I love, the conflict of wanting them to have what they want warring with my own instinct to take her away and keep her for myself.
“You wish, for once, the guy who’s into you wasn’t a little bit psycho?” At her pointed look, I smirk. “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.”
“It’s just that there’s no romance to killing someone with a gun.” I spread my arms. “What can I say? Necrophilia just isn’t my thing.”
I see what Nick could have been and I see what he could still be, because the man standing before me, willing to give his life to offer mine some kind of closure, isn’t the monster I’ve come to know. This is a selfless act.
“I know my love isn’t worth anything to you, Lavinia.” His other hand brushes mine where it hangs, limp at my side. “But maybe theirs will be.”
“I’m not worth it. I’m not worth any of this.” His fingers grasp, squeeze, eyes piercing through mine. “You’re worth more.” Nick loves me.
The world has felt much too small since she left, as if her absence had carved some permanent void.
Maybe that’s what I’ll remember most about it—the intensity in the way he looks at me as he reaches up to touch my throat, mouth parting to take me inside.
She used to be scared of him, but he’ll take care of her, make her strong, transform her into the Duchess she was always meant to be.
“What time is it?” she croaks, head turning to search out a clock. “I don’t have a clock in here,” I tell her. “Time is just a countdown to things I don’t want to do.”
I don’t want to draw Vinny. I want to draw on her—in her. I want to shape her into a piece of myself.
Pick Vinny over someone else, and you have her in the palm of your hand.
“Nick would do anything to keep me safe.” Lower, she repeats, “Anything.”
He was willing to die for me. I was willing to save him. Whether I like it or not, that means something. An agreement was made in blood.
I haven’t forgotten who he’s been, but I can’t deny who he’s become.
“It’s a pretty well known fact that beards make a man exponentially more attractive.” His responding smirk is almost enough to make me groan. “Then I definitely should shave it. Nick Bruin can’t get prettier. Men and women would just start orgasming on sight.” I snort.
Ugh but I love them despite everything
“Just stating the facts, Little Bird. I didn’t give myself that nickname.” “No, I’m sure you would have gone for something way more modest.”
The other part of me just misses his face. It’s not like I spent two years around this man and never noticed how attractive he is. Some nights, it was the only bright thing in my life.
“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.
“She could never have held a fucking candle to you.”
“Little Bird, your opinion is the only one that matters.”
Nick is the least subtle man I know when it comes to wanting my attention. It’s just the bluntness of it. The lack of fear. The complete absence of shame.
He’s here to win. That’s my Duke. Always a victor.
He wants me. That’s never been put into question.
He loves me so much—how can I ever return that kind of affection? One kiss at a time, maybe.
never realized being protected—cared for—would be so much responsibility.
“That shit ends today. I don’t give a fuck what the consequences are. Forsyth is about to learn that West End doesn’t belong to Saul. It belongs to us.” He reaches out, and I’m not expecting it—the tenderness in his touch when he curls a finger, brushing a knuckle over the bruise on my cheek. “Just like you.”
I need Lavinia to be mine like I need to breathe, and I’ll do whatever it takes to have more of those soft, sweet moments. Even if it means losing a piece of myself.
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.
How many men have touched her without having the right? Can I kill them all? Yes.
“…to kill someone with your bare hands is an act of love.” Just like that, it was worth it.
think I’d probably bash my own head against the wall if she asked me to right now, but that’s always been the way with me, hasn’t it?
If I’m going to be anyone’s weapon, then I’m going to be hers.
“I don’t know what happened or how it feels to do that to someone.” She looks right into my eyes as she says it, her mouth pursed tightly. “But I need you to come back to us now, okay?”
“I’m sorry for sending you back, and for everything that happened before that. I couldn’t see it until it was too late, and this is probably fucking worthless, but in case you need to hear it, I’ll tell you.” Our foreheads press together. “I’m sorry.”
Lavinia kisses me carefully, like I’m a stick of dynamite about to blow.
She might know me better than anyone, living or dead.
In here—in the quiet, secret, dark places—Lavinia is mine. Out there in the light, she belongs to them.
Darkness beckons me. I sense it just inches away, but this girl—this woman—has drawn me back and I’ll cling to her like a lifeline for as long as she’ll let me.
the people of Forsyth need to understand one thing: no one lays a hand on the Duchess except her Dukes and survives. Even if that means starting a war.
“He attacked our Duchess,” Nick explains. Ashby looks around the room, as if he’s confused, searching for the punchline. “And?” “And he paid for it.” Nick announces this while studying his fingernails.
The Dukes are done hanging off the ropes. If someone comes at us, any of us, we’re hitting back.”
