Page 79 of Wild Fury (Fallen Royals 6)

I glance over at him. He’s pressed back into the seat, his face pale. Concussion notwithstanding, he seems… afraid—and annoyed. Maybe at himself, or at me, I can’t tell. This is the first time he’s been my passenger. Usually my aggressive driving annoys him from afar.

“I won’t kill anyone,” I say. “That accident was one in a million.”

“You can’t account for everyone else. Slow down, Lux.”

I shake my head. We’re flying through twisting streets packed with parked cars on both sides, when all I want is to hit the open road. “I won’t.”

“Goddamn it.” Theo closes his eyes.

“You are afraid.” I keep glancing at him, and that’s the dangerous part. He’s a magnet for my eyes, when I should be paying attention to the road. “Just admit that you don’t like to give up control, and this situation is driving you insane.”

My gut instinct is to slow down. To make him feel secure. But then I remember his hands around my throat, ignoring my need for air.

I jerk the wheel, flying around another turn. I cut someone off, and they honk and scream in a way that is familiar and foreign all at once. That’s Boston for you. You can love the city, the atmosphere, the landscape, but you’ve got to take the driving as the dose of realism. No place is perfect.

We are careening away from campus, away from Theo’s apartment, and onto the highway. I’ll stop when I get bored, or when he relaxes.

Or when he tells me the truth.

“Just spit it out,” I demand. “That you’re so messed up on the inside you can’t stand the idea of letting me control anything.”

“I—” He stops.

I glance at him again and shove his arm. His jaw tics, but he doesn’t even react.

“Theo!” I yell.

“Fucking hell, Lux, slow down.”

He reaches over and shifts the car into neutral. He keeps his hand on the gear stick, and I don’t try to fight it. It takes a while for the car to slow, and I navigate it to the side of the road. Other cars whip past us, honking, and belatedly I flip on my hazard lights.

We roll to a stop, the gravel crunching under the tires.

The only sound between us is the ticking of the lights. I stare at the endless road ahead of us. We’re on I-90, before the tolls start at the edge of the city limits, and even at eight-thirty, a steady flow of traffic screams by us.

“Happy?” I squeeze the steering wheel.

“Not particularly.” His fingers wrap around my wrist, tugging until I release the wheel. “Sebastian started taking steroids for an old knee injury last year, toward the end of our season. Coach has that documented.”

“So, what, he liked the advantages it gave him? Or his knee is still shit?” I only know the basics about steroids: that they can cause rage, and strength…

I shiver.

“No, he stopped.” Theo’s smug expression is back. “Well, until someone started injecting it intravenously while he slept.”

I stare at him. “You’ve been dosing him with steroids while he slept?”

He shrugs. “Yeah.”

“Where did you get that?”

“A kid with an autoimmune disorder. Just so happens he took a history class that Sebastian’s in this semester.”

And Sebastian had threatened Theo with framing him for cheating.

“You didn’t just get him on athletic cheating… You wanted to nail him in academia, too.” I’m pretty sure my jaw is on the floor, and I race to understand all the facets of his plan. “But no one’s called him out on that, right?”

He flips my hand, tracing the lines of my palm. “Not until the society starts digging into one of their star recruits… and the origins of the steroids are discovered.”

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