Page 71 of Wicked Promises (Fallen Royals 3)

Our relationship hasn’t been the most honest thing on the planet.

He tucks me in the passenger seat and quickly circles the car. Once he’s in, he cranks the heat. I lean forward, pressing my hands to the vents, and sigh. A jacket would’ve been good in hindsight, but I didn’t want my movements inhibited.

We get all the way back to Eli’s house before either of us speak. I have nothing to say, but Caleb… he’s building up to something. Whether out of anger or concern, his annoyance fizzes and crackles around him. Nearly impenetrable.

“Did you learn anything?”

I glance at him.

He reaches over and pulls my hair tie out, letting my dark hair fall in waves around my shoulders. He lifts a chunk, twirling it in his fingers. “Did you seduce him?”

I squirm away. “I threatened him.”

“With this?” He holds up the knife and examines it in the dim light. He flicks on the car’s light and frowns. “When did he give you this?”

“After you tried to beat up Matt.”

He chuckles. “I didn’t try to beat him up, love.”

“But you did try to get information,” I point out. “And that…”

“Was unsuccessful, for the most part,” he admits. “All I’ve learned is that he’s afraid of someone.”

“He said they were going to kill him.” I take the knife back, sliding it into my pocket. “Who would kill a high schooler?”

“Who would abduct one?”

Fair point.

“His alibi was his girlfriend,” I say. “She lied for him.”

He hums. His eyes turn on me. “Would you lie for me?”

“Probably.”

He smiles, and I smile back. Dumbly. Like I’m just another girl fawning over his looks. But his smile does something to me.

And then… his smile fades. “How long have you been having panic attacks?”

“Two in the last… twelve hours? Probably not a good sign.”

“It was me holding your wrist?” He reaches over and touches the scab. “I’m such an idiot. I didn’t…” He laughs, but it’s more at himself than anything. “I should’ve known. I found you—”

“Vulnerable,” I fill in.

He meets my gaze. “I’ve never wanted to hurt someone more than I wanted to hurt who did this to you. But your wrists aren’t bound now. You went in there and—fuck, I wish I could’ve seen it.”

I smile. “You wish you could’ve seen my crazy eyes?”

“I want all of you. Crazy, sane, sad, happy… lost.”

I lean over and touch his face. He lets me cup his jaw, slide my hand back into his hair, down to the raised scar at the back of his head. Lower, to his neck. I pull him toward me.

He obliges, pressing a kiss to my lips.

But that’s not enough.

I run my tongue along the seam of his lips, demanding entrance. He lets me. Everything in this moment is about my control. I recognize that in the back of my mind. His hands don’t stray, but mine does. It roams down his chest and back up, scraping lightly.

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