Page 42 of Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals 1)

I squeak. “Put me down!”

He smacks my ass. The sharp pain of it zips through me and my mouth gape open.

“You don’t really get to speak to me right now, love.”

I groan, raising my head to glare at Liam. Caleb carries me out of the room. “Where are you taking—”

He smacks my butt again, and I press my lips together. Liam laughs behind us, following Caleb down the hall and into the party.

Oh god. The party.

He walks through the crowd like it’s nothing. They part for him—they always do—but now there’s a silence that follows us. It’s eerie. He’s got me in a fireman’s carry, slung over his shoulders like a damsel in distress. His arm is hooked around the back of my knee, gripping my wrist.

My cheeks flame.

We pass the living room, and I catch Riley’s wide-eyed stare. Eli has a hold on her arm, but she doesn’t even notice. And then we’re outside, the cool air hitting my bare skin.

It would appear that I only have the courage to stand up to him in private, because my muscles unlock. I growl, “Put me down.”

He chuckles, and the sound goes straight through me. He leans forward, letting go, and I fall flat on my back in the grass. The hit is shocking. Cold dew seeps into my jeans and the back of my sweater, the grass pricking at my forearms.

He stands over me, seeming to contemplate something, and then offers his hand.

I blink at him.

“Just take it.” He sounds a thousand years old. Impossibly tired.

I do. My hand slides into his like they were made for each other. He pulls me to my feet and points to the car.

“Get in.”

“So freaking bossy,” I mutter, heading for the car. I’m ready for this night to be over. He’s probably tired from his mood swings—I know I am.

“You don’t touch him.” He’s right behind me. His arms slide around my waist, his fingers interlocking over my abdomen. He holds me flush to his back, and his breath hits my neck.

“I wasn’t going to.” Liar. Wasn’t that my plan? To use a boy against him? It would’ve been Liam. Hell, it would’ve been anyone who could stand up to Caleb for a fraction of a second.

His lips touch my ear, eliciting a shiver. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I wouldn’t.”

He bites my earlobe, hard enough that I jump, but his hands keep me in place. We’re just out of reach of the house lights. I let myself fall back on him as his hands explore, and I hate it. I hate that my heart remembers what my mind has tried to forget: that deep down, Caleb and I used to be friends.

He pinches my nipple, and I feel it in my core.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask.

I shouldn’t.

I know I shouldn’t.

This could end.

This could continue.

His fingers inch under my jeans. “Do you want me to stop?”

I can’t even say yes, because my breathing is loud and ragged.

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