Page 72 of Vicious Desire (Fallen Royals 4)

Sometimes it feels like everyone is.

She releases me, and I head inside. Their basement was converted to a little game room a while ago, and I automatically go down the stairs. Theo and Caleb are at the pool table, setting up the balls, and Liam flips through radio stations in the corner.

“One game,” Liam warns.

“Why, so we’re not late?” I roll my eyes. “What’s Skylar going to say when you show up?”

He scoffs. “She won’t mind.”

“I bet.” I check my phone, but the screen is void of notifications. A year ago, Riley would’ve been blowing it up.

The good old days?

I can feel my mood ebbing away toward dullness. It’s heavier than fog, a damp blanket that settles over my shoulders. I can fake it. I will fake it—until I make it, isn’t that the saying? Until the fog lifts?

When will that be?

The answer is: I don’t know.

So I do what I do best and throw back my shoulders, striding over to the pool table like I own the place. Cocky, self-assured asshole. It’s the branding I’ve fallen back on, even if it’s a lie.

“Caleb’s my partner,” I inform them.

Theo rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right. How about we flip for it?”

Caleb holds up his hands. “Ladies, please. Don’t fight over me.”

I resist the urge to punch him. “Fine.”

Liam comes over and elbows me. “We can take ’em.”

Fuck that. We’re so going to crush them.

And we do. Fifteen minutes later, the game is won when I sink the eight ball into the corner pocket.

But it doesn’t do a damn thing to make me feel.

18

Riley

Margo stands in the center of my room, rotating slowly. “You redid like… everything.”

I wave my hand from my position on the bed. The plan was to eat sweets and gossip until the party at Skylar’s, but she seems a bit shell-shocked.

“Seriously, Riley, it doesn’t even feel like your room.”

“It’s just paint.”

Her mouth drops open. “You went from mint green to… this.”

I glance at the wall she’s staring at. True, it’s a little… edgy. The gray was darker than I anticipated—which is why it’s an accent wall. The other three are light blue, almost white-gray.

“And you changed your furniture.” That’s an accusation.

“I needed a new bed set,” I mumble.

I am definitely not telling her about the time Eli tied my wrists to my old headboard, and after we broke up I couldn’t stand to sleep with it glaring at me. Yes, headboards can glare. I covered it with a sheet, but it looked ridiculous.

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