Page 73 of Wicked Games (Fallen Royals 2)

What happened to you?

I’m afraid to touch him, but I do it anyway. I put my hand on his shoulder, as gently as I can.

He reacts like I hoped he wouldn’t.

He comes alive, twisting and grabbing my arm. He hauls me over him and pins me to the mattress between him and the wall. He grips my wrists with an iron hold.

“Caleb.”

His eyes are open but unseeing, and his whole body is tense. Tremors run through him. He doesn’t see me, just whatever nightmare he’s trapped in.

“It’s okay,” I whisper. I rise and put my forehead to his. “Come back to me.”

He said those same words to me. Come back. Earth to Margo.

Slowly, he crawls out of the darkness. He blinks rapidly, eyes going from my lips to my nose to my eyes. “What are you doing here?”

I manage to smile. “I came to check on you.”

He leans away, wincing. His hands slide off my wrists.

I stay where I am. Part of me is still in shock. That whole ordeal took a minute at most, but it feels like we were in that position for a lifetime.

“You’re hurt.”

He stands, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why?”

He turns off the television, and the room goes dark. A second later, he flicks on the lamp on his dresser. The bandages around his torso are wide, crisp white, and cover most of his back. He moves stiffly toward the bathroom, shaking his head.

I finally scramble out of bed, following him. “Why shouldn’t I be here, Caleb?”

He glares at me. “I wanted the Jenkinses to kick you out.”

I flinch, but he’s not done.

“I wanted your life to be ruined. To make you fall in love just to squash it—your heart—like you did to me.”

His face is a mask of fury—but I don’t believe it. For once, I can see the liar in him. Every word that falls from his mouth is a goddamn lie.

Enough is enough.

“You’re mad that you want me,” I say, heading toward him.

His eyes widen, and he steps away. I back him farther into the bathroom, until he hits the counter. And I don’t stop until I’m right between his legs.

I slide my hands up his chest. I pause over his heart, reveling in the steady thump-thump. My own pulse is out of control. One hand stays on his chest, and I let my other continue up. Over his throat, which bobs, to his jaw. I sweep my thumb across his lower lip.

His eyes are dark.

“You’re mad that I see you,” I whisper. “All of you. And I’m not backing down. I’m here because you can’t get rid of me, even if you threaten me.”

I’m in.

Two words and a mountain worth of clarity. It’s always been Caleb. It’ll always be Caleb.

He hasn’t moved, and his words from his car come back to me. He handed me control, and I still have it. His hands rest on the counter, supporting some of his weight. His eyes are on my face.

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