Page 83 of Wild Fury (Fallen Royals 6)

“Squeeze hard, little monster.” I cover her hands with mine, keeping them there. “That’s what you want, right? The power?”

“Stop talking.”

“I won’t give you fear.” I’m dealing with my own anger, but she’s a force of nature. She almost blows mine clear away, and it takes me too long to register her full-body tremble. “This isn’t about that stupid dance.”

“It’s about you and me, you idiot.” Her fingers dig into my neck. “And why we can’t do whatever this is.”

White spots dance at the corners of my vision, but I don’t stop her. Not yet. Part of me likes this version of Lux, where she’s strong enough to fight me. Where we don’t resort to petty pranks and dancing around each other.

“You’re broken,” I spit out. My voice is hoarse. “A broken toy no one wants to play with.”

“No one except you.”

We can’t do whatever this is, she said.

Enough, a voice deep inside me roars.

I tear her hands away from me and bend my knees, rolling us sideways. I trap her beneath me, her knees still pinched around my hips, her wrists under my hands level with her eyes.

“What are you asking? For me to let you go?” I can’t believe I’m even saying the words out loud, but I need to understand her.

Our push-and-pull is constant, even across two towns, two schools. I don’t know when it started—maybe with the death we both witnessed. Maybe only later, with how we dealt with trauma. Or the way our minds work.

She didn’t react how she should’ve.

She didn’t break, as much as I might try to convince her otherwise. Her whole mind hides behind steel walls, but sometimes bad thoughts slip out. Sometimes her need to hurt something is too much for her to bear.

Her dad’s stolen car, crashed into his garage.

Vandalizing some football players’ houses.

“How many times has your daddy had to collect you from the police station?” I ask suddenly, wanting to unnerve her.

She flinches.

“How much more do you think you can hurt people before they let you go?”

Her hard gaze meets mine. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

I laugh. It’s outrageous—that she thinks she can push me away. I don’t talk much in school, barely to my friends. My sense of humor is almost nonexistent. But this strikes me as hilarious. We’ve managed to tie ourselves together—she can’t isolate through pain.

“Stop laughing,” she grits out.

“You know, you should keep trying to force people out of your life. It’ll work with everyone else. Not me, though. And then it’ll just be me and you.”

“My own personal hell.” She suddenly struggles, yanking at her wrists, trying to get my weight off from her. She throws her head forward, catching my nose.

A burst of pain radiates through my face, and I release one of her wrists to touch my nose. Tears fill my eyes automatically, and blood stains my fingertips.

I choke on my laugh and show her the damage. “Is this what you wanted?”

She eyes me warily, inching backward.

I reach out before she can get too far, smearing my blood over her bottom lip. “This is why I won’t touch you any more than I have to. Because when I think of you, this taste fills my mouth. And all I feel is…”

“Everything dark inside you,” she finishes. She sits up, and her tongue pokes out, catching the blood on her lip. She closes her eyes, and her head tips back. “I know.”

I stand. There isn’t really anything left to say.

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