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“You need to let him know about Ryan asking you too. Find out if he already knew, as that will go a long way in helping you understand his motives.”

Even though I agree, I’m not sure I care what Lawson’s motive for asking me to be his Prize is—it doesn’t change anything. I might have to say yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to give in to him easily.

Lawson has been telling me to stand up for myself, to not let people walk all over me, and I think there’s no better time to start than with him. I’m sure he didn’t mean for me to stand up to him, but I plan to. If he wants me as his Prize, I’m going to make him earn it.

The last thing I want to do on a Saturday night is spend it surrounded by drunk arseholes in Vulture’s Den—the nightclub on campus, run by a young Obsidian Order member called Rafe Kincaid, but we all call him Kincaid.

He’s only a few years older than me, and he’s been running Vulture’s ever since he graduated. I don’t know if there’s any truth to them, but the rumours suggest he was one of the best Pledges the Order had ever seen, and they had no choice but to give him his choice of assignment after graduation, even though they were disappointed with what he chose.

Although I know Kincaid, and we’ve hung out a few times, our connection is mostly through Bram. So when Bram told me we were going to Kincaid’s club tonight, I knew there was no point arguing—no matter how much I might have wanted to.

As I down my second shot of some horrible green liquid, grimacing at the sour taste that’s burning my throat, I acknowledge that the only good thing about knowing the owner is that we get a private booth in the VIP section. It comes with its own server, so we don’t have to queue at the bar for our drinks.

I chase the fucking repulsive liquid with a mouthful of beer, my nose scrunching up at the awful taste it’s creating on my tongue. I turn to glare at Bram, who is actually licking the fucking empty shot glass.

“What the hell was that? It tasted fucking awful,” I shout, trying to be heard over the loud, pounding bass that the DJ is pumping into the room.

Vulture’s is jam-packed tonight, which is not surprising. While there’s a pub on campus, and at least one dorm or Order House that will throw a party each weekend, this is the only nightclub within the University grounds, so options are limited.

Nobody bothers leaving campus, since the nearest town with anything close to a nightclub would be well over an hour away, and even then, it wouldn’t be anywhere near as good as Vulture’s.

“It was a Squashed Frog. Admittedly, it’s an acquired taste. The Slippery Nipple coming up is much better,” Bram announces almost proudly, and I let out a long groan.

I didn’t come out tonight intending to get pissed, but that was clearly on Bram’s agenda. In fact, he was halfway there before we even stepped foot in Vulture’s, as I’m pretty sure he started drinking back at the house.

“Remind me again why I agreed to come out tonight,” I mumble, more to myself than anything.

“Because you couldn’t turn down my sparkling personality,” Bram replies with a wink, which only makes me roll my eyes at him. “Besides, you need to get laid.”

I groan loudly before taking a bigger gulp of my beer. “Not this bullshit again.”

He shuffles closer to me in the round booth and throws his arm over my shoulders, using his other hand to point towards the main section of the club. “Look around. This place is packed full of gorgeous girls, and I bet there’s more than a few who would jump at the opportunity to fuck you.”

He’s not wrong. Before we made it to the VIP booth, at least three girls tried to hit on me, and there are several others looking this way now. It’s not that I’m not interested; it’s just that none of them grab my attention that much anymore.

It’s a bit like going to an all you can eat buffet. The first time you go up and see all the food, you want a bit of everything. You want to sample whatever is on offer—and then some more. You eat until you’re full to bursting.

And you might repeat that process the next few times you eat there, but after a while, all the food tastes the same. Nothing stands out or captures your attention the way it did that very first time.

Until finally, you reach the stage where nothing tastes good, so you don’t bother with it. You’re just waiting for them to bring out that new dish to capture your attention all over again.

You mean like a certain strawberry-blonde? I think to myself, before quickly pushing that thought away.

It’s true Harper has managed to keep my attention for much longer than anyone else, but that doesn’t mean I’m interested in her in that way.

Bram is staring at me, clearly waiting for me to get out of my head and answer him. With a huff, I say, “It won’t be long until I’ll have plenty of opportunities to get my dick wet, remember?”

Like a child on Christmas morning, his eyes sparkle with excitement. “The Gifting Ceremony. I can’t fucking wait.”

“Have you even picked a Prize yet?” Although Bram is more than happy to tell me about his conquests in great detail—usually too much detail—I’ve never once heard him mention who he plans to make his Prize.

His eyes darken and his smile falls as he shrugs his shoulders, trying to look as laid back as he usually appears, but I know my friend too well. I can see he’s hiding something. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Come on, there must be someone you have your eye on. Or are you worried the one you want won’t agree to be your Prize?” I’m somewhat familiar with that scenario, given Harper’s rejection has been playing on repeat in my head since it fucking happened.

Bram swallows the last of the whiskey that’s in front of him, before flagging down our server and ordering far more alcohol than two people need. The air hangs thick and heavy as the palpable silence presses in. His steady and unyielding gaze meets mine, reminding him I’m a stubborn arsehole who plans to wait him out.

As soon as the server has dropped off our drinks, giving Bram a flirty wink and a giggle as she sashays away, he downs the awful cream-coloured shot without hesitation. Letting out a loud huff, he turns to face me. “I don’t get to choose my Prize. My father informed me the other day that he has selected my Prize, and I have no choice but to accept her.”