Page 40 of Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals 1)

He grins. “Maybe. Or maybe I just want…”

His hand slides out of my jeans, up under my shirt. My eyes widen.

And then he takes my phone out of my bra, hopping to his feet.

My cheeks burn. Because, yet again, I’m an idiot.

And you let him touch you.

“Take me home.” I climb to my feet.

“I want you to realize something.” He starts walking down the path, back to the car. “You’ll come when I say. You’ll beg when I say. You’ll give me your fucking phone when I say. Did you forget? This is your punishment, and I own you.”

“You don’t.” I stop walking, crossing my arms over my chest. I feel utterly exposed—but it isn’t my clothes flapping in the wind. It’s my soul.

He tilts his head. “Why on earth would you think that? You want me. Your heart beats for me.” He keeps walking. “Hell, I ignore you for a week, and you look tortured—”

“I’m more tortured when you do pay attention to me,” I mutter.

“I kiss Savannah and you flinch. I kiss you and you get wet.” He glances at me out of the corner of his eye.

Is he checking to see if I’m blushing? Because I am. My face is on fire.

“You’ve been mine since we were kids.”

I know.

“The only difference between now and then?” He unlocks his car. In the silence, he smirks at me. “Go ahead, ask.”

I’m too tired to fight. “What’s the difference?”

“Now, I don’t really give a fuck about… any of it.”

11

You’ve been mine since we were kids.

He drags me to a party. Well, he drives there and then disappears inside, letting me sit in the car and contemplate public suicide. Eventually, I work up the nerve to walk in the front door. I’m surprised at the loudness of the music. The neighbors must riot.

I can’t be afraid. Small. I push my shoulders back and inhale, vowing not to take shit from anyone. Hell, if Caleb is the one to bring me here, I’ll make sure people know it. With that in mind, I search for him.

He’s in the kitchen with a red cup in his hand. He lifts it toward me, dark gaze lingering on my throat, but I shake my head. Getting drunk is the opposite of a good impression on the new family. I’d love to walk in there just before midnight, sober as a nun.

Eh, that probably won’t happen.

Riley and Eli come in with a flood of other people, and she makes a beeline toward me. She hooks her arm around my neck, pulling me close. “Sorry. Eli said you guys weren’t able to go. I didn’t know. Ooh, is that a keg?”

She releases me and grabs a cup.

“Margo, are you drinking?”

“No,” I say. “I—”

“Little Miss Perfect doesn’t drink?” Savannah saunters into the room, wearing far less clothing than I would’ve imagined for mid-September. “Surprise, surprise.”

I shake my head and turn away. Pretty sure I haven’t done anything to deserve the title Little Miss Perfect, especially since I’ve only been at Emery-Rose for three weeks.

She’s not worth the hassle. Not to mention, Caleb still has my phone hostage, and Riley has disappeared.

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