Page 51 of Vicious Desire (Fallen Royals 4)

“To dance with you.” His eyes are dark. Half his face is in shadows from the flames. “I’ve been watching you.”

I raise my arms. “Is that why I have goosebumps?”

He smirks.

“You said I was repulsive.” I have the urge to punch him. “I don’t understand you. After…”

“After the best kiss of my life?” He chuckles hoarsely. “It was just something to say. To stop focusing on you for a minute.”

I regard him carefully. “Did it work?”

“No.” He crosses his arms.

“Eli,” someone calls. “What are you doing?”

“Consorting with the enemy,” he yells back.

I scowl. “You have a mean streak.”

His nose almost brushes mine. It’d be easy to kiss him right now, because our lips are inches apart. But the way we’re glaring at each other, any kiss would dissolve fast.

“So do you,” he replies. “Lean into it.”

I straighten. It’s like he sees straight through me—and my desire to lash out. I’ve been controlling it for a while, but anger always seems to bubble under the surface. I think it stems from Mom’s cancer and an unshakable helplessness. “Yeah?”

He winks and steps back, into the shadows.

I go back to Skylar, grabbing her arm. Amelie and Jackie have joined her.

“Anyone need a refresher?” I ask.

Amelie squeals, locking her arms around my neck. “Let’s go!”

She drags me back toward the house. I take Skylar with me. My interactions with Amelie have been limited to a few parties and sleepovers, but I haven’t seen her this drunk. She can barely walk—thus hanging on to me—and her speech slurs.

We pass Ian in the living room. He’s swaying, too, his lips locked on some girl’s neck. They’re doing a bad impression of a slow dance.

I don’t think we’ll be making it back to Amelie’s house tonight.

Eli and his friends are in the kitchen, and I groan. “Do they just hang out in the kitchen at parties? What gives?”

Skylar forces a laugh. “No clue. Let’s just get in and out.”

That’s the plan—until Eli stops me.

Déjà vu.

“If you want to drink, you have to pay the toll.”

I raise my eyebrow. “Oh? What’s that.”

He smirks and takes the cup from me. “A kiss.”

Amelie claps. She does love a show.

I narrow my eyes at him. “No.”

Maybe I’m imagining the hush that falls over the room. Seriously, has anyone told this boy no before? Yes, he’s a fantastic kisser—I remember it vividly from last year—but I can’t say I want to do it in public.

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