Page 56 of Vicious Desire (Fallen Royals 4)

I lift one shoulder. “I don’t know.”

“Now who’s hiding?” She tucks her hair behind her ear.

“I didn’t like it when I felt so damn guilty,” I finally say.

Riley eyes me. “Why are you guilty?”

Why are you guilty—not why do you feel guilty. Her words are a choice, and boy does she know how to wield them like a weapon.

My annoyance flares. “I’m not guilty. Not as much as you.”

The waitress picks the perfect time to stop by our table, notepad ready. I order for both of us before Riley can even open her mouth.

I know you, I’m trying to say.

The way her jaw sets, I think she can hear me just fine.

Chocolate chip banana pancakes. Bacon. Hash browns. A coffee for me and hot chocolate for her, extra whipped cream. This place will sometimes put rainbow sprinkles on top, too.

It’s the little things.

“We both have secrets,” she says evenly. “Can’t we just let them be?”

I clench my teeth, then say, “No.”

Her eyes widen. “No?”

“No. Secrets are like a scab we can’t help picking.” I raise my eyebrow. “I think we’ll both be bloody by the end of this.”

The fight goes out of her in a whoosh. I see it go, the way her shoulders fall and her muscles loosen. “I don’t want any of this.”

I tilt my head, confusion overtaking any other feeling.

“Explain,” I demand.

She meets my stare. “I’m tired. I don’t want to do this with you. I’m sorry I got in your truck, but I really just needed to escape for a minute. I didn’t ask—”

“Stop.” I hold up my hand. “Why are you lying to me?”

She’s not sorry she got in my truck—she’s sorry I took control of the situation.

“I’m not.” She leans forward. “You’re bored and looking to mess with me, but you forgot that you threw the first punch. You might hate me, but it’s nothing compared to how I feel about you. I’m going home.”

I watch her stand and walk out the door. I’m not sure where she’s going to go—it’s cold out, and I have the keys to the truck. Not to mention we’re miles from Rose Hill.

She fidgets in the parking lot for a few moments, the glow of her phone illuminating her face, then a car rolls up.

Fuck.

I throw cash on the table and bolt after her.

The back door of the car slams, and it starts to pull away. It’s barely rolling when I dive in front of it, holding up my hands. She can’t just leave, get in a car with a stranger—

The driver’s window rolls down. “Come on, asshole, get out of the way.”

“You’re not taking her anywhere,” I growl.

“I’m gonna call the fucking cops,” he warns.

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