Page 116 of Wild Fury (Fallen Royals 6)

“No, it’s not okay, because you’re telling me you’re better and I’m still fucked up.”

“I’m still plenty fucked up,” he says quietly. “I just came to the realization about you. One that, honestly, Lux? You knew all along.”

My eyes go wide. “And what’s that?”

“You love me. You’ve loved me.” He holds me captive, his fingers still working the muscles at the back of my neck, the base of my spine, and the other hand across my lap. “There’s no big healing process. It was just realizing how fucking crazy your absence made me.”

I hiccup. My love always seems to be one-sided. My parents, my sister back in high school, Theo. Everyone I ever chased after just seemed to want me gone. Sure, my relationship with my sister has improved, but she’s half a world away.

“Lucy. Lux.”

I find his eyes again.

“It’s not one-sided anymore.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Okay, what?”

“I’ll stay here tonight.” I wipe my eyes. “I feel broken.”

He pulls me closer. “I know.”

I let him hold me for a little while, then I have to move.

I need to do something, so I rise from the couch. I have a craving for him, one that lay dormant all these years. But it woke up when I first saw him again today, and it’s been prickling me ever since. I stand in front of him and slowly peel my shirt off, dropping it at my feet.

His eyes darken. “Lux.”

“How much have you thought about this?” I ask. “About me? About sex?”

“Too much.” His voice comes out strangled, but he remains seated.

I run this show for now, and I should enjoy it while it lasts.

The room is dark. We stayed on the couch, dozing, until the streetlights flickered on outside his window. That’s the only light source now, streaming in and bathing us in a bluish white glow.

I rotate, giving him my back, and bend. I take my pants with me, sliding the material over my butt, down my thighs. My underwear isn’t sexy—black boy shorts and a bralette—but I don’t think it matters.

“Lux,” he repeats.

I nod, kicking off the leggings and backing away. “Do you want the chase?”

He barely inclines his chin when I bolt.

I never expected to make it far, but my fingers just grasp his doorframe when his arms wrap around my torso. He lifts me, my back cemented to his front, and carries me into the room. He tosses me on the bed, and I scramble backward.

“Afraid?” he asks.

I shake my head, shoving the comforter off the bed with my heels. “Are you?”

He doesn’t reply. I don’t take that as an affirmation—I take that to mean he doesn’t deem the question worth a response.

First his shirt goes, then his jeans. His strip tease for me.

“Are you wet for me, little monster?” Even his voice is dark.

In the back of my mind, I knew we wouldn’t be able to do this the normal way. Not us.

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