Lords of Mercy （The Royals of Forsyth University #3）
Angel Lawson & Samantha Rue
Author Note
Welp, there’s not much to say as far as content warnings. If you’ve made it this far, then there’s no hope for you. If you haven’t? Well, turn back and start at the beginning.
But for you pervs, the regulars, our ride or dies? You like the dark and depraved. The vindictive and taboo. You know it. We provide it. It’s a disturbing symbiotic relationship we’ve developed. We’re addicted to it. To you. It’s our not so secret dirty little secret.
We do want to thank you in advance for going down this journey with us. The road has been long and fraught. Sexy and disturbing. Killian, Dimitri and Tristian are…well, you know how they are. God help us we love them for it.
Trigger warnings: drug use, pyromania, murder, somnophilia, and assault.
Buckle up,
Angel & Sam
Lords of Mercy Playlist
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More Lords?
Even after we finished this book we couldn’t let these guys go. They’re just too… well, you know. Too MUCH. We’ve written a short story from each Lords perspective. A deep dive into their minds the night in the laundry room.
You can get HERE.
1
Story
I don’t need to look at the clock to know it’s after midnight. The noises of the old LDZ brownstone keep their own time, from the sound of Ms. Crane’s curses echoing down the hallway to the thumping bass of the weekly frat parties. But those sounds have faded. It’s Thanksgiving break and most of the frat boys have gone home for the week. Ms. Crane is asleep, so it’s just me and my Lords here, filling the dead brick walls with our own signature signs of life. The most telling signal of time is my Lords.
They’re restless.
The most present is the shadow crisscrossing beneath my bedroom door, punctuated by the rhythmic creak of the hallway’s hardwood floor. It’s as symbolic as the chiming grandfather clock down in the library.
My stepbrother is pacing outside my locked door, as he is every night, hoping, wishing, preying.
Three weeks ago, we amended our contract. It was a long morning, and I spent most of it stony-faced and refusing to back down from my requests. The Lords spent it pulling at their hair and gnashing their teeth, and slowly—so slowly that I knew I was being taken seriously—accepting the terms that would cement my place here once again.
No more cameras or creeping into rooms uninvited, no more clothing or food demands. No more punishments. The topic of sex was most difficult for me. I’m not so lacking in self-awareness to think I’ll never be willing. But the things that happened to me—things they did to me—things I was forced to do…
It has to be on my terms, when I’m ready.
They may have agreed to my demands enough to put pen to paper, but that doesn’t stop Killian from pacing outside my door, testing the lock, prodding at my makeshift boundaries to see if tonight’s the night I’ve lowered them. I know more than anyone that if he wanted in, he could snap that lock with nothing but a twist, and I wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about it. To my surprise, he hasn’t. Not yet.
Killian’s never been big on virtue, but patience, least of all of them. That much is obvious from the way he’s itching to get back on the football field despite still being in recovery from the gunshot wound to his gut. Or the way he, Tristian, and Dimitri keep running over vague, vengeful plans to get back at whoever planned the hit.
Ted. Ted planned the hit—whoever he even is.
I roll on my back and stare at the ceiling—or rather, the floor of Tristian’s room. I know for certain he isn’t up there, because I can hear him, too. The steady rhythm of the basketball down on the court below my window has been beating for an hour. His pattern is as clear as the way his hips drove into me when he fucked me. Seven dribbles that echo off the bricks, then he shoots. Sometimes it’s followed by the clean swish of the net or bounce off the backboard, or occasionally… “Motherfucker!” he misses entirely.
I had Tristian go over every inch of my room, unplugging or turning off the sensors. It was an elaborate system, including motion detection and infrared, and it should have stunned me, this knowledge that I’ve been so painstakingly observed. Only, it didn’t surprise me at all.
I don’t think Dimitri or Killian care that much, but for Tristian, not keeping tabs on me, watching me, is clearly a challenge.