Page 50 of Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals 1)

Parties. I think I hate those. The public schools I went to had parties, but those were loud and obnoxious. The cops were almost always called, which is a disaster if you’re in the foster system and they catch you. And then the one where Caleb carried me out...

I can admit that I’m curious how the rich kids really party. The taste from the other night wasn’t enough to get a feel for it. “What kind?”

“Homecoming,” Caleb answers. His brows furrow.

I blink at him, my mouth popping open. “What?”

Eli shakes his head, snickering. “I think that’s a no, dude. Maybe she’d rather go with Liam—”

Caleb shoves Eli, so hard and fast I almost don’t register it. Eli hits the counter, snarling. I back out of the kitchen—a guilty relief—and into a strong pair of hands.

Theo scowls at me. Shocker.

Liam pushes between Eli and Caleb before the situation can escalate. “What’s this about?”

Caleb glares at Eli, while the latter glares at me.

“You’re an idiot,” Eli declares, looking back at Caleb. “You should just leave your history with her in the past. She and her family—”

Crunch. Caleb’s fist smashes into Eli’s nose, narrowly avoiding Liam.

Theo moves me to the side, helping Liam wrangle both of them. “Goddamn it,” Theo growls. He spins around and points at me. “Leave.”

I take two quick steps backward, then turn and run.

Instead of going out the front door, I take a side exit and find myself staring at the guest house next to the pool. With quick, sure steps, I race toward it. It’s unlocked.

I take a second to pray that no one lives here, and then I’m pushing inside. It’s just like I remembered it, plus three inches of dust. Ugly, pale-yellow paint in the kitchen, one of those retro green refrigerators at the end of the counter. There’s still furniture. A cup…

I walk toward it, mesmerized, and lift it from its spot next to the sink. It sticks a bit, leaving a ring on the vinyl.

“Put that down,” Caleb hisses from the doorway. It seems to pain him to step foot in here, but he does. He marches across the room, kicking up dust, and wrenches the plastic cup from my grip.

My fingers are wooden. I couldn’t have held on to it if I tried.

He slams the cup back down in its spot and grabs my arm just above my elbow. When he drags me out of the room, something wild fractures in my chest. I shove him and manage to get loose.

I race down the hallway and push open a door, stopping dead in the doorway.

My things.

My bed and toys and clothes and drawings on the wall.

Oh my god.

Caleb grabs me from behind, dragging me out of the house.

I scream when we pass my parents’ bedroom door. My legs give out, and my heels create marks through the dust on the floor. Once we’re outside, he pushes me against the house and claps his hand over my mouth.

His breathing is out of control. His eyes suck me in.

“Stop,” he says. “Just stop.”

I find myself leaning toward him. My heartbeat is going to jump out of my throat. He keeps me against the wall with one hand on my chest. He watches me through narrowed eyes.

Did I do something wrong?

“You didn’t—no one—”

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