Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

“Clay, knock it off,” Callum barks.
Apparently, she doesn’t speak for all of them.
“Come on, badass,” she sneers. “Go for it.”
I step forward. “They want Bellona,” I tell him, shutting her up.
Bellona is the Seminole flag, shredded and faded, but still flying at the
lighthouse a mile up the dunes. It’s on her scavenger hunt.
Macon glances at me, still fisting her hair. I know he doesn’t want to hurt
her. She’s not worth the jail time.
It takes him a moment, but he exhales and releases her, a half-smile on
his lips. “Of course, they do.”
It would be the ultimate ‘fuck you’ from St. Carmen.
He rises and pulls Clay to her feet, but she shoves him away, scowling.
Macon shuts off the bike.
“Can they take it?” Army taunts.
Macon tsks. “Doubtful.”
“Come on, Macon…” Trace bounces up and down on the balls of his feet.
“I want to stretch my legs. Let’s play.”
My brothers, their friends, and their girlfriends—their faces filled with
excitement—look to my brother for his permission.
He casts me a glance. “Oh, what the hell…”
And then he turns to Clay and her posse. “Go capture your flag. If you
can.”
“Whoop!” Our guys cry out.
Clay, looking uncertain after almost losing her nose to my brother’s bike,
flashes her gaze to me, and I can tell she’s not done for the night.
I grin, shouting to my brothers. “Move!” I yell.
Whoever gets it first, wins.
Everyone runs, scattering out into the night, but Macon grabs me as I try
to leave.
He yanks me into his face. “You lose my flag, you lose Dartmouth.
Deal?”
My chest caves. “Macon…?”
“Nah-uh.” He shakes his head. “You’re grown up enough to invite them
here without asking me first, it should be no problem to make sure you don’t
lose that flag to a country club princess, no matter how pretty her ass is. Put
your money where your mouth is, Livvy.”
Fucking prick.