Page 93 of Vicious Desire (Fallen Royals 4)

I fly out of bed and scramble to clean, scooping up the pile of half-dirty clothes and depositing them on the floor of my closet, straightening my desk. I tuck my hamper in the closet, too, and yank the doors shut.

There.

My phone buzzes.

I go to the window. Eli’s truck is at the curb.

My butterfly-filled stomach ramps up a notch—or ten.

He’s at the front door when I get downstairs, but he’s not focused on the door. His back is to me when I open it. His shoulders are tight.

“Eli?”

He spins around and smiles, then frowns.

It’s like he’s happy to see me, but it isn’t the emotion he wants to feel.

“Someone drove off when I pulled up. Isn’t that weird?”

Goosebumps crawl up my back and down my arms. I grab his wrist and tug him inside, then close and lock the door.

“Weird?” I echo. “Scary, maybe.”

He grins down at me. “Ah, so you are scared by this.”

“I’d be a fool not to be.” I cross my arms. “Just because I didn’t run to you when I was scared—”

“Obviously you’re not good at running scared.” Without warning, he pries one of my arms away and flips my hand, running his fingers over my palm.

They’re healed, but…

I take my hand back. “Do you want the couch, or are you going to stand guard all night?”

“Are those my only two options?”

He’s my shadow up the stairs, into my bedroom. But he doesn’t try to touch me again.

He turns on the light and winces.

I try to see it through his eyes—the complete difference I made after we broke up. The walls, the furniture.

“You removed every aspect of me from your life.” He rotates in a circle, his frown getting deeper. “And not just on the surface level, either, I’d bet. You scrubbed me right out of your heart, too.”

He faces me and stalks closer.

“How did you do that, Riley? Get rid of me so completely?”

I square my shoulders. I’m not afraid of him—now or then. “Systematically.”

He stops just in front of me, a hair’s breadth away. He gently traces his finger up my arm.

I hold my breath. My chest aches.

This is too similar to the past—a past, mind you, that detonated in our faces.

What’s to say this will be any different?

“You know, I wanted to come back here and destroy you,” he says softly. “To hurt you after you hurt me. But I think you’re already hurting. Aren’t you?”

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