Page 2 of Carnal Heart
He thinks he can use the ones I love as leverage. He currently has them tucked away in his heavily guarded mansion, and I have no fucking way of getting them out. Not unless my father is alive and rotting in a prison somewhere.
My reflection stares back at me in my full-length mirror; the same crimson eyes are a stark reminder that I am my father’s son. A flickering light catches my eye, and I spot his heart-shaped pin on my blazer.My father’s pin.I rip the thing off my jacket and toss it in the trash. I have my own. I don’t need to wear my father’s old university pin as he smiles and reminisces about the good ol’ days when he was a Black Hart.
Seriously, fuck traditions.
***
Snowflakes drift lazily to the ground, adding to the layers of snow that had already gathered overnight. I inhale the crisp air as I clench and unclench my fists. Something about talking to my father always riles me up, and I can’t walk into the party ready for a fight.
Up ahead, a few couples walk into the building, fingers laced, their giggles echoing in the night. Cor Night is an annual celebration. Sacrum Cor University claims it’s a celebration of love, but the real draw is the anticipation of a Black Hart participating in Praeda and selecting their prey. The whole thing is ridiculous. It’s a way for us to flaunt our power and keep the masses hopeful. I never really understood it. This year there are only eight Black Harts. Why would anyone expect to be selected out of thousands?
I deliberately slow my steps, wanting to avoid the fawning groupies. Some of my fellow Black Harts thrive on the attention, but I hate it. Originating from a founding family doesn’t grant gold diggers the right to pursue us constantly. I prefer to get attention in other ways.
Pulling up my multi-slate, I send a message over to the Black Harts group chat.
Devyn: Please tell me I’m not the only one here.
Camren is the first one to start typing. His name pops up and disappears multiple times before finally disappearing for good. Frustrated, I blow out a deep breath and decide to just get this night started by walking through the open double doors.
Several heads turn my way as students mingle in the foyer. A sea of faces, and yet no one stands out, not with everyone in attendance wearing the same mandatory dark red blazers. The only hope for individuality is by selecting some gaudy jewelry or a different-colored shirt under our jackets. That or an obsidian pin.
Illya: Look up, asshole.
My lips twitch when I peer up to see Ryker leaning against the railing while Illya scowls down at the crowd of partygoers.
Reaching the top of the stairs, I notice several Black Harts chatting, but choose to join Illya at the railing. More people shuffle through the doors, their gazes immediately bouncing up to ours. Some people smile, while others give us flirty waves. A familiar faculty member enters, greeting us with a polite tilt of her head. Even the fucking professors hope we might choose them.
“What a joke,” I grunt.
“Just pick someone and get it over with,” Ryker says from Illya’s other side.
The scrap of paper my father slipped into my pants weighs heavily in my pocket. Still itching for a fight, I lean over the banister and bait my friend. “Easy for you to say, Golden Boy. Not all of our daddies were nice enough to welcome a fuck toy into our homes.”
As predicted, Ryker is on me in a flash. There’s nothing like mentioning Ryker’s new stepbrother to get his fucking panties in a bunch.
The first blow to my stomach is a welcome pain. Usually, I’m the calm and collected Black Hart. The one known for blending in with the shadows. The observer. But my friend must have known I was desperate for a fight because the next blow that lands on my jaw skates over my lip, and suddenly, there’s blood in my mouth.
I smirk, bracing myself for more. Unfortunately, Ares and Zar are suddenly there, pulling us apart. But before Ryker gets too far, he opts for a verbal blow instead.
“At least my fuck toys are real.”
I bark out a laugh. “Touché, brother.” The fuck toy Ryker is referring to is my secret silicone doll I like to show off during my webcam sessions. Like I said, I like getting my attention in other ways. A secret porn channel with thousands of paying subscribers is the best silent ‘fuck you’ to my father. If he knew his precious prodigy was fucking on camera, he’d have a damn heart attack. Not to mention, the pay is fantastic. Once I have a comfortable sum saved up, I’m getting my mother and sister off this planet and away from my abusive father.
“I’m fine,” I say, shrugging Zar off of me and making my way back over to a different spot against the railing. A multitude of people, each adorned with a glowing red heart pin, shuffle through the doors by the dozens. An upbeat song starts playing and bodies sway to the beat. Cor Night has officially started.
I vaguely hear Camren join us as he chats with the others, but my mind wanders back to that damn piece of paper in my pocket. Sliding my fingers against the sharp edge, I pull it out and unfold it.
Lillie. My sister’s handwriting.
Good luck, brother.
Of fucking course, my father would force her hand. Lillie wouldn’t write this shit on her own. She knows what I think of Cor Night and Praeda. Lightly tracing the elegant script with my finger, I refold the piece of paper and place it back in my pocket.
Suddenly, the name Lombardi registers in my brain.
Remy fucking Lombardi.
Good light, I should have recognized the last name. Remy Lombardi. The one who stole my pretty little obsession out fromunder me before I could even introduce myself. I grit my teeth at the irony. My father expects me to choose Remy? Screw that.
