Dynasty (Boys of Winter 1)

“Will you stand against all evil and fight for the good of our cause?”

I resist rolling my eyes as I take the plaque and hold it above my head as a declaration that I will hold Dynasty and the families that it was built upon above everything, including myself. “I will stand against evil and fight for the good of our cause.”

And then finally, he wraps it up with his final question. “Will you always uphold your values put in play by the great Gerald Ravenwood, and remain loyal to all that is Dynasty?”

Placing the plaque back down and turning to face every man, woman, and child who stands within the walls of the ballroom, I drop to my knee, placing my hand over my heart. “I will forever remain loyal to all that is Dynasty.”

“All hail Dynasty.”

And just like a broken record, every voice in the ballroom repeats their declaration, mine included as I remain on my knee. “All hail Dynasty.”

The crowd cheers, and I watch over them, feeling like a complete imposter. What the hell was my grand-daddy drinking when he founded this bullshit? It’s a fucking cult, not a prestigious organization. A blood vow? That’s fucking insane, but it’s done now, and I won’t have to worry about it again. I just have to make these fuckers think they can trust me so I can destroy everything they believe in because this version of Dynasty is not what it was intended to be. I know I never knew my grandfather, or my own father for that matter, but I believe in them, I share their blood, and this couldn’t be what they were trying to build.

As I raise from my knee, Tobias meets me with a bandage for my hand and instantly presses it to my wound. I suck in a breath before he works quickly, and before I know it, King is standing behind me on the little stage and offering me his hand. “It’s customary to dance.”

My brows crease. “Seriously?”

“Sorry.”

I take his hand with a groan and allow him to lead me back down the stairs, being careful with my wounded hand. “So, did you draw the short straw?”

King leads me onto the dance floor and swings me around until I’m facing him with his hand on my lower back and mine resting against his chest. “Rock, paper, scissors,” he tells me with a groan. “I don’t know how he does it, but I swear Cruz cheats.”

I can’t help but laugh, imagining these beyond serious guys in their fancy-ass suits fighting over who has to dance with the girl. “I don’t think it’s possible to cheat during rock, paper, scissors, but let me apologize for how awful the idea of dancing with me must be.”

King’s arm tightens around my waist and he pulls me in while trying his hardest not to show his emotions as the whole room watches us. “You’re an idiot,” he tells me. “I’m honored to dance with you, fucking thrilled actually, but we all know exactly what you’re going to think of this and neither of us wanted to suffer through the punishment of having been the one to force you into it.”

“Good point.”

“And for the record,” he adds. “I like getting my dick wet, and if that gets withheld, I’m going to be fucking devastated.”

A real, deep belly laugh pulls from within me, and before I know it, I’m losing myself to the music and to the feel of King’s arms around me as the other couples do the same. He spins me around, and for a quick minute, I’m pretty damn impressed with his skills. Apparently, he can do a lot more than screw and kill. I wonder what other secrets he’s been hiding from me.

I’m just about to suggest that we sneak away so that he can show me all the other ways he knows how to move his body when the sound of a throat clearing beside us has me pausing and tearing my gaze away from the handsome man in my arms.

I come to a stop as I find the older version of Carver bearing down on me, his hand outstretched and the eyes of the room still watching my every move. “May I have this dance?” he says, though his tone suggests that I better not argue.

King’s grip tightens on my body but not being in a position to argue, he reluctantly takes a step back and offers Carver’s father my hand. “Sir,” King says out of duty, certainly not respect.

Carver senior’s eyes swing to mine and he instantly grips my wounded hand, holding it far too tight as he pulls me in. “Smile,” he murmurs in my ear. “We wouldn’t want anyone to assume their new leader is less than thrilled with her new position.”