Page 126 of Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals 1)

Whore.

It mocks me. My mother. My past.

I scratch at it. There’s dirt under my nails.

I notice it with vague detachment. In fact, I’m feeling rather removed from it all. I mindlessly scratch at my arm, trying to get the ink out of my skin.

Caleb comes back. He tucks his phone into his pocket and rushes over, grabbing my wrists. “Margo.”

He hauls me up, ever so gently, and carries me into the bathroom. He sets me on the counter, flicking on the light.

I wince when he takes my wrist and pulls my arm straight. I’ve managed to gouge my arm. Blood trickles down my hand, dripping off my finger.

“We’ll get it off,” he mutters. “I told Robert something bad happened. I ran out of his class when you didn’t show up.”

There’s guilt in his eyes.

I felt it on his lips. That was one thing, but seeing it?

Not ready for that.

I quickly look away, focusing on his shoulder.

“He said the way to get to you was through me.” My voice is raspy. I don’t have to tell him I’m not talking about Robert. “I’m your soft spot.”

He flinches.

I keep my attention on his face as he gets a washcloth soaked in warm, soapy water, and runs it over my arm. I let him care for me. God knows I can’t do it myself.

He takes his time cleaning my arm. And then he runs the washcloth over my shoulders, up my neck. Down my chest. He unclips my bra, tossing it over his shoulder. Resoaks the washcloth.

Water runs down my body, and I shiver.

He washes away Ian’s harshness. His hand on my arm, around my throat. His Italian fucking leather loafer in my stomach.

And when Caleb’s done, he steps between my legs and kisses me softer than I could’ve imagined.

But… we’re not meant to be soft.

I lean into him, stifling my moan of pain. He holds me back, hands featherlight on my shoulders.

“Kiss me like you mean it,” I demand.

He hesitates.

“Make me forget.” I won’t beg him. Yet, I told myself that with Ian, and I caved. I didn’t want a rich asshole to kill me in the woods.

Caleb’s lips part. I press forward, catching his lower lip in my teeth.

And.

I.

Tug.

He lets out a groan.

But… he doesn’t give in like I hoped. Instead, he pulls back, shooting me a look.

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