Page 17 of Wicked Games

Another mind fuck? What does itmean? I know what it represented to a young Margo Wolfe. The innocent version of me, who loved without restriction. Who didn’t understand that bad things could happen to good people.

“Stop,” I whisper.

I yank at my wrists, but he holds tight. The little metal cage around the woven threads on the bracelet, meant to protect it, now seems more like a threat.

“You’re getting it now,” he replies. “You can run, but there’s nowhere you can go I won’t follow.”

Maybe I should go back to the Bryans and get it over with. Let my social worker take me out of this godforsaken town once and for all. Time has been ticking while I’ve been falling for Caleb Asher. I’ve got three months left until I turn eighteen, and then I truly will be unmoored.

“Even then, I’d find you. I’ll never let you go. You know that, don’t you?” He meets my gaze. “And you’ll never let go of me either.”

The metal around my wrist is warm, digging in under his finger. And beneath the metal, the threads that wove us together when we were kids. Dressed up like a bride and groom, tying on the bracelets, a kiss to seal the deal.

Look how far we’ve fallen.

“Stop.” I pull my arms down, trying to get away from him.

He releases me.

For a split second, I’m free, and then he’s back in my space, holding me captive by more than my wrists. His hips press into mine, and he leans his elbows on the railing on either side of my head. I have my hands, but he has my body. He leans in, bending me backward over it.

“No,” he says.

Simple. Effective. I’m pretty sure I hate the word—and him.

“You’re so hell-bent on destroying my life. Why not just drive the knife in deeper?”

He grins. He’s insane—I know it. He surely is aware.

“You ran to Ian Fletcher.” His gaze drops to my chest. “You’re wearing his sweatshirt. How am I supposed to react?”

“I hate you.”

His smile widens. “Right back atcha, baby.”

There’s a gleam in Caleb’s eyes that scares me. He’s out of his mind, and I’m only just now seeing it. Witnessing his demons take control. I shove at his arm and slip past him.

Caleb catches up to me in the living room. He grasps my arm, spinning me around, and puts me up against the wall. It doesn’t hurt, but it has my attention. His palm covers my throat.

The party falls silent. Even the music cuts out.

Caleb doesn’t tear his eyes away from me—and I can’t look away from him either.

“What are you doing?” My voice is breathless. I don’t mean it to be. I want to come off strong, even though my body is thrumming with electricity.

One day isn’t enough to turn off all the emotions I feel toward him. And while I hate him, I think…

Nope. Not going there.

I wrap my hands around his wrist. I can’t tell if I’m holding his hand to my throat or trying to get him to remove it.

“Party’s over. Leave,” he demands. He isn’t talking to me. He’s talking to… everyone else. He’s ending the party. Trying anyway.

No one moves.

“Now!” he roars. He so rarely has to raise his voice.

Several people flinch, and it breaks the spell. It’s a mass exodus, everyone just… stops what they’re doing and rushes away.

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