Knot Their Toy: the complete duet

Knot Their Toy BOOKS 1 & 2 AJ MERLIN Vile Boys Copyright © 2023 AJ Merlin All Rights Reserved No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Cover Design by Covers By Combs Contents Vile Boys Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Wicked Girl Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Epilogue About AJ Merlin Vile Boys Chapter One Would it be cheating to knock out my hearing aids so that I don’t have to hear the dean of Winter Grove University keep going on and on about how honored we should feel? Sure, it would take a bit of planning. With my hearing aids going over my ears and kept pretty securely in place, I might have to fake a bee in my long hair to shake them to the ground, or more preferably, into the black canvas bag between my knees. In the end, I decide it’s not worth it. Yet. But still the dean goes on, voice rising and falling with a lull that makes me want to pass out. I take a deep breath, scents mingling to what amounts to smell-soup in my nose. Alpha, beta, omega, spicy, flowery, fruity…it’s all there, and most of it smells like crap, thanks to the muddling in my nose. The girl on my left glances over at me, eyes wide, when she sees me take a second deep, steadying breath. Her dark eyes dart around my face, then down to where my knee shakes impatiently, and a small frown appears on her face as if she’s worried I’m going to get to my feet and riot until we can leave the ice hockey rink that poses for an auditorium here. I may be one of the few incredibly lucky scholarship students, but I’m not a heathen. There’s no need to worry when the worst I’ll do is just stop listening. She looks at me again, and this time I catch her gaze with my own to hold it. She’s an omega too. Being close enough that her knee could brush mine if she wanted means that I can scent her just as clearly as the beta to my right, but this omega looks petrified. As if the dean is about to announce some cut-throat version of the Weakest Link to get a few students out of here and make room for the rich kids and all their money. Personally, I’ve read the brochure enough to reasonably know that is not going to happen, but who can really be sure these days? My eyes move from the girl’s, going instead to canvas the chairs around me. For orientation, only the freshman have been cursed to show up and listen to this speech, but I’d thought there would be more than what there are. Don’t most colleges have a few hundred students enroll each year? At least? Frankly, if there are more than one hundred and fifty students sitting on the chairs in the covered hockey arena, I’ll eat my Winter Grove brochure. My eyes fall on a brunette boy who’s leaned back in his chair, quite obviously staring at the ceiling instead of looking forward at the dean. His head tilts back, exposing more of his pale throat, and by the way the girl to his left keeps glancing at him and all of that pale skin on display, I can’t help but think that he’s an omega like me, and she’s caught his scent strongly. Clearly, she wants to act on it, but I don’t think she’s about to go all vampire on his neck in front of everyone here. A low, irritated sigh leaves me, and I drag my gaze back to the dean, away from the boy with his throat on display. Or rather, the woman who slams the gate to the arena, her dress shoes making awkward scuffing noises on the cover of the rink. She bolts to the dean, her face white, and he pauses in what is probably the most heartfelt part of a truly rousing speech to bend down enough for her to whisper in his ear something I most certainly can’t hear. At least I’m close enough to see his face go white. And close enough to read his lips, being that I’m in the second row of students, and I lean forward enough to do just that, tuning out every muddy sound of muttering students to watch the way his lips move. Are you sure? He asks, thankfully facing me enough that I can make out the words. The woman nods, but unfortunately her reply is said not facing me. I have no idea what it is she’s told him. He draws back, runs a hand down his face, and she continues to whisper in his ear. At last he shakes his head. Where is the body? I’ll keep the freshmen here until it’s cleaned up so none of them see it. Body? Maybe there is some kind of Battle Royale going on here that I hadn’t expected. “Can you tell what they’re saying?” over the buzz of conversation, the girl’s voice in my ear takes longer than it should to properly reach my brain. I look at her, blinking in