Page 18 of Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals 1)

He grabs my chin, twisting my head to the side. “Look at your friend,” he whispers in my ear. His voice is dangerous.

She’s at the edge of the crowd and won’t meet my eyes. She stares at his fingers gripping my face.

When did people start paying attention?

“She’s the smart one, Margo.”

I flinch. I’m the only one who can hear him this close, and I’m sure he likes it that way. I’m sure he likes to keep me off-balance.

“Let go of me.”

“You’re not having fun?” He drops his hand. He snags my wrist before I back away, reeling me in again. “Come now, Sheep. First one to flinch loses.”

“I’m not playing games with you.” I half expect him to kiss me again. I’m angry at myself for even contemplating such a thing.

“What makes you think we stopped?”

He releases me, walking back to his friends. They’d paused their game to watch us. Caleb gestures to Savannah. She steps forward, throwing her shoulders back and her breasts forward.

I shouldn’t be surprised when he kisses her again.

This time it’s savage, open-mouthed. She presses her whole body into him, her hands fisting his shirt at his waist. Their tongues fight, but it’s a one-sided battle. Caleb is in charge.

Something shifts inside me. Heat floods through me.

That should be you, a voice whispers.

I stare and stare at their connection, and it takes me a minute to realize his eyes are locked on me. Even as he bites and sucks Savannah’s lips.

I cringe at the realization.

He shudders, leaning into the kiss like she’s a balm against a fire. This show—

His friends hoot and holler, my only indication that he’s pulled away. I’ve lost sight of them, my gaze unfocused, but I snap back to the present when the bell rings. The river of students flows around Caleb and Savannah. The former is watching me. The latter stares at him like he just impregnated her.

It hurts. I’m not quite sure why it hurts, because everything else he’s done to me has been so much worse.

Savannah follows his stare. She blinks at me, surprised and then… triumphant.

5

Caleb

I sulk through classes, unable to pay attention. Two girls try to pass me notes, which Theo intercepts and reads. He does me a solid by answering them in his own crude way, little stick-figure drawings of people fucking doggy-style or upside down. He flashes them at me before flicking them back.

The second-to-last bell rings, and I unfold myself from the desk. Theo follows me out the door and down the hallway, slapping my hand in goodbye. I’ve done my best to keep this part of my life low-key, and my friends know better than to ask questions about my last class of the day.

I walk into the room, and Mr. Jenkins grins at me. I slide onto a stool at the back of the classroom. I’ve been drawing since I was twelve, but only recently he encouraged me to try other mediums.

“You might be surprised,” he had said, winking.

Eh, how could I resist? Playing with paint for an hour soothes the wild anger inside me. It’s either that or beat people to a pulp on the regular. Since my aggression can usually be handled on the lacrosse field, we breathe a bit easier in the spring. The rest of the time? Well, everyone better fucking watch out.

The classroom slowly fills. Art students, I’ve learned, don’t give a shit about the popular kids. It’s a relief not to be considered a fucking royal here, in the brightly lit classroom, surrounded by other disinterested students. It’s like the art department has a mind of its own.

And then Margo Wolfe walks in.

My blood boils before I even comprehend why.

---