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Camille drove through the center of town, heading straight for the law firm.

The Blairville Bermuda Triangle, as I used to call it, because that's where my family's law firm, the Blair's town hall, and the Copeland's hospital were located.

“What have you done, hm?”

She scrutinized me closely, swerving without looking at the road to avoid a raven that had pounced on a donut on the side of the road.

“Nothing.” I raised both hands and shook my head. “Believe me. I'm the most innocent man on this campus.”

My grin returned.

Camille raised both eyebrows. “Sure... and I suppose that's why Bastien has already had to go to the director three times because of you.”

Bastien didn't have to do anything. He just did it because he was Bastien and had taken on responsibility for Adrian, Larissa, David, and me. In doing so, he forgot that he wasn't our father, that our real fathers didn't give a damn about us.

I tried not to think about Tristan and to focus on Emely instead. Something that was surprisingly easy for me.

She Knows

Christopher Tyng

“I mean it,” I insisted as Camille parked in front of the law office. “She’s hated us from day one. You know her family.”

I watched Camille turn off the engine and touch up her dark blood-red lipstick in the rearview mirror.

“They want us dead. So much so that they're even marrying off their own children to have allies against us.”

It was satisfying to think about Emely, but it was another thing to think about that Russian bastard who always looked like he wanted to kiss my fist.

He and Emely were neither opposites nor alike. So what did she see in him? Not only did she let her father force her into a marriage, she got involved with a guy who obviously wasn't right for her and would take her from one cage to the next.

I knew there was something in her that was attracted to me, I could feel it whenever she was around me. Ever since the winter ball.

The feeling was mutual. Too late had I realized that something had begun that evening, something in which my heart was losing itself more and more with each passing day.

“Don't remind me of the Rolanows,” Camille sighed, pushing the lipstick back into the glove compartment. “Those people have done enough damage in Russia.” She sounded exhausted, as if she had actually met these criminals, which wouldn't surprise me. “And it's annoying that Dr. Copeland fears us so much that he chooses these people as a last resort.”

Dr. Copeland was just as sick as my grandfather.

Emely was his damn daughter.

“She could say no, damn it,” I blurted out, only now realizing that anger had built up inside me.

I didn't know why the thought of him taking her to Russia bothered me so much. God, maybe I was actually jealous.

But what did I hope to gain by her staying here? What was my goal? Did I just want to continue annoying her, provoking her? Or did I want more...

I remembered that afternoon recently when I had cornered her in the passageway. I hadn't really thought about it, I had just listened to that exciting tingling in my stomach and told her I wanted her for myself. And just the thought of what I could do to her in that dark passageway, against a wall.

I had already pushed her against a wall, days before the winter ball. But back then, I hadn't felt the urge to grab her hips, lift her shaking legs, bury my hands in her heated thighs while I pressed my hungry lips unrestrainedly against hers, desperately waiting for her to unzip my pants so I could show her just how much of a rival she was to me. With my throbbing cock deep inside her...

I felt myself getting hard.

Damn, it was really getting worse.

I wanted my rival for myself, wanted to do indecent things to her. Prove to her that she wanted it too.

“The Copeland girl,” Camille began. I felt her gaze on me. “Miles.” I looked up, looked at her, and tried to relax my fists... and my cock. “I want you to pull yourself together. I'm already wondering what she thinks about us.” She took a deep breath. “And if this continues, we'll never make peace.”