13. Law

I doodle my way through the most tedious civics lesson in the history of Sentinel Academy. The only thing keeping me from jumping out of my skin is that I can still taste Jane on my tongue. I've kissed a lot of lips in my life, but there's something about Jane's that makes me hungry for more. Addictive, almost; every hungry lick of her tongue sends sparks of pleasure racing through my blood. It surprises me, to be honest. I don't mess with omegas as a rule, since I'm well aware that's a fate I can't outrun. As the only son of Lord Michaelson II, my omega mate was picked out for me before I escaped the cradle.

As I twitch in my seat, tracing the outline of Jane's lips on my wrist with my pen, I wonder how she's coping in her PT class. It's run by one of the hardcore alpha instructors, and I hope like hell Drew is taking care of her.

Disguising her as Cutter's cousin is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, the Bleak House label makes her a target of scorn and suspicion, while on the other, the reputation of the collective freaks will keep anyone from actually harming her.

Cutter might be an enigma, since he's never attended a single class in the year he's been enrolled at the university, but his file came with a priority tag, marking him as military property. The rumor on campus is that the army brass is holding him in a supermax cell in the belly of the mountain. My guess is that they probably caged him, did experiments on him, and wound up killing him. A fucked-up way to die, but it's not like he wasn't a ghost the second he stepped on campus.

When class finally ends, I fight the urge to run to the gym. Since I've committed Jane's schedule to memory, I know she has study hall with Travis straight after, and there's no way the moody brute will let her out of his sight. He was possessive of her right from the beginning, and according to Drew, he's now got her rooming with him in his dungeon chamber.

Not tonight, though. The thought brings a flush of possessive warmth to my chest. Tonight she's all mine, and I'm going to wine and dine her in the style of a legacy and lord. I've already ordered the best food the campus offers – prime rib and lobster tails, along with a double chocolate cheesecake usually reserved for the officers' mess.

Just thinking about tasting Jane's mouth after a bite of dessert makes me grin. I juggle my satchel in front of my body, adjusting my swelling cock. Not that I'm ashamed of how hard I am right now. But I get enough attention from the students swarming down the corridor without them thinking they're the cause of the growing bulge in my tight uniform pants.

But as I cross the lawn to the Dean's Office, my boner wilts when I picture the hour ahead. Every week I have a meeting with Dean Whitmore – known as Witless on campus – to discuss legacy business. It's really just a chance for him to pump me for information about my father and the rest of the national council. The way things work in the peerage, there's a royal family moldering away in a castle somewhere, but the real business of running the country falls to men like my father, with the backing of the generals. He and five other lords form a council that is technically responsible for making laws, but only if they promote their own interests and don't interfere with whatever devious shit they dream up on a Tuesday. The seat is hereditary, so one day I'll have the honored job of screwing the country into the ground. But until then, I'm a handy conduit to the halls of power where my father and the other lords roam unchecked.

Witless' office is a shrine to all things alpha, even though he himself is a fairly mediocre specimen. Short, wispy-haired, and with milky blue eyes, he's average in every way. But his father and grandfather were Dean before him, and his distant ancestors ponied up the money to lay the first brick, or whatever. The man is beneath my notice, but my father insists it's good practice for when I run the country. So here I am, sitting opposite Witless as he beams at me from behind his imposing mahogany desk.

"Lord Michaelson," he preens as his long-suffering assistant comes in with the heavy tea tray. "Has it really been a week?"

The guy always opens with the same question, and I grit my teeth to stop my eyeroll. "It feels like only yesterday," I mutter, dropping three sugar cubes into the soupy tea I have no intention of drinking. "But I'm happy to move these meetings to monthly if it will help free up your calendar."

His assistant – a blue-eyed beta who is both too intelligent and too pretty for this shitty position – shoots me a smirk, but Witless looks like his tea is spiked with cyanide. "Not at all, my lord! I look forward to these meetings all week. And how else would you be privy to the critical inner workings of our fine college?"

The same way I always am – by getting my cock sucked by his pretty, blue-eyed assistant.

Katie shoots me a wink as she slips out the door, no doubt already combing Witless' emails for something she can bring to my bed. Although now that I have Jane in my sights, I might have to compensate her financially instead of with my dick. For the next fortnight, at least, I plan to devote every moment to the intriguing omega…

"It's a blot on our enrollments, I admit, but I've been assured he won't cause trouble. The military has him flagged, and we have the usual monitoring protocols in place…"

I blink my way back into his monologue. "Who are we talking about?"

"The new Bleak House resident. I just wanted to warn you that we have another Cutter on campus. Temporarily, at least." His beady eyes narrow as he puffs himself up. "My intention is to transfer him and the others to Burrow Hall for the remainder of the term, especially since your father is now gracing us with a visit."

I try to hide my surprise – and the sudden churning in my gut. "Ah, right. When is he coming, exactly?"

"For Family Day, of course. I assume he will arrive by private shuttle some time in the morning…" He looks at me for confirmation and I shrug. "Well, I'm thrilled he's accepted our invitation. And the last thing I want is for the Bleak House degenerates to sully his visit."

I grit my teeth at both his slur and the news about my father, but then lean forward with a thoughtful look on my face. "Wouldn't it be better to maintain the status quo for such an important event? You know how the civil rights loonies get when you mess with the Bleak House residents." There's a small but very vocal group of lawyers and activists – all paid for by yours truly – who make sure Witless and the army brass don't completely violate their rights. Like I said to Drew, I've never really believed their fathers were the cold, heartless traitors their superiors painted them to be. Maybe they sold secrets, or maybe they threatened to do something that caused the brass – or the council – to silence them. If I've learned one thing in my twenty-two years as a lord and legacy, it's that no one is safe when war and politics get in bed together. "And they're all monitored, aren't they? I thought you said they didn't pose a threat to the rest of the student body."

It was one of the assurances he gave my father when I started as a freshman. That the Bleak House residents - whose presence on campus complies with whatever deals the brass struck with their families – would be virtual prisoners on campus. A situation that is far from ideal, but it's better than Witless shipping the guys off to Burrow Hall, a hellish detention center up in the Whipshield Mountains.

"Of course, my lord!" Witless splutters, slopping tea over the edge of his cup. "You are never in any danger from them, I assure you."

Except for maybe death by blue balls, if Travis decides to be difficult about my access to Jane. I get that we only have a couple of weeks together, so I'm prepared to share her affections if the other guys are as interested as I think they are. I'd just like some alone time so I can get to know her better. Beyond that, if she wants to dally with the others, my only request is that I'm there to watch.

Not that I'm sure Jane is the dallying sort. She's a delicious contradiction with her sinful mouth and innocent eyes. I'd swear she was untouched if it wasn't for the way she nearly sucked my soul out of my body with her addictive kisses.

My dick twitches, but I force myself to drink more tea and listen to Witless give me a rundown of the last Board of Trustees meeting. It's all tedious beyond belief, but I wait until he's done before I get a reassurance that he'll maintain the status quo until after Family Day.

My thoughts quickly turn back to my father. We stay in touch through his steward, Talbot, who provides a weekly update of his whereabouts and relays any instructions to improve my grades and stop sticking my dick in my inferiors. The academic stuff I get, but his policy on fraternization leaves me with few options. Sentinel Academy might be the premier military institution in the country, but I'm the highest-ranked resident – including students, staff members, and soldiers. Unless a general decides to visit campus, fucking upwards is an impossibility.

"Your father said he planned to make an announcement at the Family Day ceremony," Witless is saying as he slurps up the last of his tea. "Any ideas what he might be planning?"

I force a smile and get to my feet. "I'm sure it will be riveting, but I think I should go and check in with him."

I don't bother promising to pass any information on, since we both know my father is a secretive bastard. But my stomach churns all the way back to my apartment, my head thumping in time with my feet. What is my father planning? Why is he visiting now, when he missed the last two Family Days and has never shown any interest in my life on campus, beyond report cards and rumors of my flings?

It doesn't take me long to find out. I dial his number as I kick off my shoes and sink into the sofa, my gaze on the churning waters of the Sanctuary River through my living room window.

There's no hello, just a gruff sound as we connect. "I've received reports you're spending an inappropriate amount of time with the traitors' sons, Lawrence. Let me be very clear: they are off limits . If you must fraternize, you have the list of minor peers I've approved. And if you insist on finding release with a military brat, then Van Ness is ambitious enough to keep things discreet. Just stay away from Levi Manson. I have plans for the general's son."

I raise a brow at that, but my father doesn't elaborate. I wonder what he'd say if he knew I threw myself on Manson in a dusty pantry, all to save the honor of a service omega. Or maybe he already knows. Maybe Manson let it slip to his father, and the general used it to score a win of his own.

"Discreet is my middle name, Father."

I'm a master at non-answers and empty statements, especially because he never listens to me, anyway. He harasses me some more, this time about my poor grades, then suddenly says, "I'll be bringing your sister with me when I come to Family Day."

That gets me sitting up straight. "What? Why?"

As much as I love my sister, I'm glad it's been six months since I saw Eloise. My visits home are few and far between, and as an omega with a barely detectable scent, my father rarely lets her leave the estate. I know he plans to bond her off to an alpha who'll overlook her poor breeding prospects in exchange for her title, but she's barely eighteen. Her future is as much a noose around her neck as mine, but I thought it was just that. The future .

My father quickly disabuses me of that idea. "It's time she did her duty to this family. She'll be accompanying me on Friday, and I hope to have her bonded by the end of the month. "

Does he mean her prospective bondmate is here , on campus? The idea makes me shudder as I think of the few alphas my father might consider worthy of his bloodline.

"Ellie isn't ready to leave home," I say quietly, because otherwise I'll growl like a wild animal. "She's too young."

"She's old enough to breed, just like you're old enough to fall in line. If you continue to disappoint me, Eloise will have to step up. Or the alpha I choose as her mate will need to. Either way, I am warning you, Lawrence. I won't leave this country's interests to a spoiled pup who can't come to heel."

His interests, he means. The entire council is only concerned with lining their pockets and prolonging a war that's been at a stalemate for years.

Threat delivered, he rings off, and I sit and stew on my sofa until the shadows crawl across my apartment floor. I realize with a start that it's approaching dinner time. The guys will definitely be home by now, and no doubt sitting down to another frozen dinner that's more cardboard than sustenance.

Packing a cooler with my provisions, I make my way down the hill to Bleak House. Instead of a view of the Sanctuary River, it backs onto a utility block, and the familiar scent of blocked drains and fertilizer rises to greet me. I climb onto the rickety porch, tapping quietly and setting the cooler at my feet. I brace myself, both hopeful and dreading Jane's face at the door, but it's Drew who answers.

Like always, he gives me a wry grin. I think of my father, who's never smiled in living memory, and certainly never in my direction. And here is the son of the nation's worst traitor, grinning at my pampered ass like he's been waiting to see me all day. I gulp a breath and nudge the cooler with my foot. "I thought you could use a good meal."

His eyes go round as they latch on to my offering. "Then hurry up and bring it in! We were just about to wake Jane and beg her to feed us."

"She's asleep?" I feel a lurching sensation in my gut. "Is she sick?"

"Just tired. Murchison worked her pretty hard in gym class." He pulls a face. "I'm not sure how long she'll fly under the radar. She has a way of standing out, you know?"

I nod mutely, because the same could be said for all the Bleak House freaks. But Jane, I suspect, is unique in a different way. She handled Manson like putty in the pantry, and then she lit up like a supernova when she took over Lindborg's class. She seems to almost thrive in tricky situations, and she has a way of holding herself that makes me think she has a spine of steel under her soft exterior.

I bite back a groan as I think of those juicy curves pressed up against mine in the classroom. Right now, I'd give my trust fund to march inside and take her apart again. I want her panting and wet, soft moans spilling from her sinful lips while she grinds out her pleasure on my thigh…

I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to break the skin. Maybe it's a good thing she's only here for another two weeks, because getting mixed up with me could be seriously bad for her health. Not to mention what my father will do to Eloise if I refuse to fall in with his plans.

Drew has tilted his head, those pretty hazel eyes of his watching me curiously. "You alright, Law?"

"Fine. Just… double-booked, unfortunately. Could you tell Jane I'll see her in class?" I nudge the cooler over the doorstep. "And just because she's a service omega, it doesn't mean she has to cook for your lazy asses."

Drew snorts and swoops on the food, his salivation audible as he smacks his lips. As I climb off the porch, I can hear his happy shout as he carries his prize inside, calling the others to the table. My lips quirk up, but as I head back to my soulless apartment, I have to wonder…

Who's the real prisoner here?

The traitor or the heir?