Page 20 of Vicious Desire (Fallen Royals 4)

He kisses my forehead. “You’ll be okay, but this will make me feel better.”

“Okay.”

I take a water bottle from the fridge and glance at him. He’s not yet ready for work—I suspect he’ll watch me go off down the road—and he seems tired.

Bone-tired.

I can’t make myself ask if he’s okay. The clock is ticking, and school is waiting.

Maybe it’s easier to run today because I know I won’t be going down the same trail. Today’s loop is strictly on residential roads, just over two miles. I time my easy runs to the harder practices, and this afternoon will be brutal.

In reality, I could skip it altogether.

But as I set out, I know I couldn’t. This is time for myself, to think and…

Someone stands at the end of the street.

I slow to a stop ten feet away, and he turns to me.

I knew Eli was back, but I almost refused to believe it. He’s supposed to be far, far away from here. Maine. Hours and hours away.

Yet here he stands, staring at me like…

I don’t know what.

My chest hurts.

He’s dressed for running, too. White and lime-green sneakers, shorts. He’s still wearing a t-shirt, but I suspect that would come off rather quickly. Boys like him always tear off their shirts mid-run. A scrap of fabric on their skin is just too much for them.

We watch each other silently.

Move, Riley, a voice in my head shrieks. Danger, danger.

His expression hardens. He was waiting here for me?

I shake my head and go the other direction, breaking into a faster pace—more on par with what I’d run for a mile, not two. I pass my house—Dad isn’t there, thankfully—and keep going in the new direction.

Coward.

Around the corner, onto a new street. I force my speed faster. My muscles already sting, my lungs straining to pull in enough cold air. At this point, I’m making up the route. I don’t know if this will end up being a mile or six, but I do know that I’ll keep running until this feeling in my stomach fades.

It isn’t butterflies.

It’s bees swarming through my veins.

I pass another street and catch a glimpse of someone barreling toward me.

Eli.

He doesn’t stop, but his angle adjusts. And suddenly he’s running beside me, so close that our arms keep brushing. We run stride for stride.

I ignore him and push myself faster.

He gives me the lead for a moment, and then he’s right back at my side.

What is this? A sick mind game? I don’t want to look at him, let alone share the same space. I slam on my brakes and watch him keep going. He circles back almost lazily, slowing to a jog and circling me in a wide arc.

My fingers touch the Mace.

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