Page 62 of Vicious Desire (Fallen Royals 4)

“Let’s go.” I point to the door. “I’m taking you home.”

There’s no argument from her. No hesitation, even. She just lifts on the hem of her shirt and goes for the door.

In a way, her compliance makes me angrier.

Some asshole could come up to her and say, “Hey, baby, how about you join me upstairs?” She wouldn’t even resist.

I follow her through the house, catching Theo’s eye and nodding to Riley. He breaks away from the guys he was talking to and heads to the front door.

Patrick walks into the living room and spots Riley. He doesn’t see me, though, which is probably the reason why he slings his arm around her shoulders.

I tense.

She pushes at him, but he ducks down and whispers something in her ear. She sags into him.

That’s it.

“Hey,” I bark.

Patrick turns, taking Riley with him. His eyebrows rise.

I loathe fake surprise.

Or maybe it’s real—he didn’t think he’d get caught this early. Or ever. Maybe he thought he could seduce her, kiss her neck, and lure her away—

“What, Black?” he snaps. “I’m busy here.”

“Get your fucking hands off her,” I growl.

I shove forward and grab the wrist of his arm around Riley. I throw it off her.

Riley seems to register the danger, because she almost trips in her haste to get away from us.

Patrick stares hard at me for a moment, his chest puffing.

Assholes like him—they’re not like me and my friends. They don’t have the demons in their chest like we do. It’s easy to see it in their eyes: they’re dicks because they can be.

We act the way we do because we were scraped along the ground as children, one way or another, and survived.

“You gonna hit me, Patty?” I spread my arms, an open invitation.

He takes the bait because he’s a sucker. He aims for my face, and I step back. His fist sails through the air inches in front of me, and his miss enrages him. He keeps coming, I keep dodging.

He lunges at me. I twist to the side and stick out my foot, catching his ankle.

Someone gasps as he falls, sprawling out on the floor.

I shake my head and crouch next to him.

He winces when I yank his hair and lift his head.

“You don’t touch her,” I say. “Got it?”

He nods. There’s blood on his lips, even though I didn’t touch him. It must’ve been the fall, a bitten tongue or the inside of his cheek. It stains his teeth pink.

I drop his head, and he lies there for a moment. Long enough for me to look around and find Riley in the sea of people who’ve gathered to watch.

Nothing draws a crowd quite like an exhibition.

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