Page 37 of Wicked Games (Fallen Royals 2)

“Option B,” I say to myself.

I can play it her way—I’ll let her come to me.

I lost her once. I’ll be damned if I’ll lose her again.

10

Margo

My bed dips.

I don’t flinch. I knew he would come. I knew he would figure out a way to get in, even if my bedroom window was locked.

Caleb’s hand coasts up my arm.

Goosebumps break out, but I keep my eyes closed.

His thumb caresses the hollow point at the base of my throat. I swallow as his fingers wind around it. He squeezes softly.

“What—”

“Shh,” he whispers. His lips touch my ear. “Don’t fucking speak.”

I open my eyes. He isn’t applying enough pressure to cause a reaction, but the look in his eyes… My heart picks up speed.

Thump, thump, thump.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says in my ear. “You’re not going to move. You’re not going to make a sound.” He withdraws and meets my gaze.

His thumb brushes over my lips.

“If you make any noise, they’re going to know.”

I glance at my bedroom door.

It’s wide open.

Fuck.

The fact that it’s the middle of the night doesn’t mean anything. It almost makes it worse, because any little sound is amplified in the darkness.

He sits up, tugging my pajama shorts down in one swift motion. Fear—and something else—paralyzes me for a second.

I bite my lip. I know he’s serious. And at the same time…

No.

His hands go to my shirt, and it wakes me up. I slap his hands away.

“Get away from me,” I whisper-yell. I pull myself upright, shrinking back against the headboard. “I don’t want you here, Caleb. I don’t—”

He reaches out and lifts a strand of my hair. The softness of it gives me pause. And I notice that he’s actually listened—he stopped.

“It’s always been us,” he says.

“It hasn’t,” I answer. “It’s used to be us. Now there’s nothing.”

“Prove it,” he demands. He shifts to his knees. “Prove there’s nothing there.”

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