Page 18 of Wild Fury (Fallen Royals 6)

Me: It was last-minute. Mom and Dad didn’t want to distract you from engaged bliss.

I imagine she would snort at that.

Ames: I’ll miss you.

My heart gives a weird sort of twist. It isn’t that I don’t believe her, because I should. But… she didn’t seem to miss me when we weren’t living together. When I spent a good chunk of my childhood living with our grandparents in Beacon Hill and the only times I saw her were holidays.

If it weren’t for the past two years, we wouldn’t have any sort of relationship at all.

So I lie and tell her I’ll miss her, too.

I turn to the boxes and open them. Bedding, a pillow, extra clothes. It’s all straight from the stores, tags still on everything. A receipt lingers at the bottom of one box, and out of sheer curiosity I scan it. The bottom, where the credit card was processed, isn’t Page—it’s Alistair.

I frown.

My parents couldn’t even think to get me bedding.

All at once, my anger overtakes me. I grab the closest box and chuck it. It crashes into the wall, but it isn’t enough. I kick over the chair, the other boxes. My rage sweeps through me like a tornado, and I’m just a vessel for the destruction. The Alistairs didn’t give me anything breakable. Nothing worth my anger. It’s all just fabric and pillows. Soft things that flutter around me.

And just as fast, I stop.

I sink to my knees in the wreckage and rub my chest. It’s difficult to take a deep breath.

“This is your life, Lux,” I say to myself. “Deal with it.”

A murder, a new school, no one who gives a shit.

Sounds about right.

* * *

Voices rush over me. I’m a rock stuck in a stream. Immobile.

No, that isn’t quite right.

I’ve come loose, carried away by the water.

Yes.

My new friends have given me alcohol, and I’ve drunk. A lot. Anything to stop the memory of that man’s hands on my thighs, his blood on my hands. The way his skin squished under mine as I dragged him.

Now we’re dancing.

Or maybe I’m the only one?

“She’s fun,” someone calls. “Freshman?”

“Moved in early,” Felicity answers. “Seemed lonely.”

Lonely, indeed. I close my eyes and fling my body around, wishing the music was louder. After dinner, we walked to the main campus, cut through it, and found ourselves on Frat Row. Only one of the houses was lit up, music crashing through it, and there weren’t as many people as I was expecting.

Still, they had music and liquor, and now I can’t control my impulses.

Maybe the man I killed had a similar process.

Someone taps my shoulder, and I immediately stop. Well, I try to immediately stop. My limbs don’t get the memo. I open my eyes and face the new person, and butterflies erupt in my belly. Tall, dark, and handsome. The opposite of dangerous, judging from his open smile.

He pushes his dark hair off his face and grins at me. “Sebastian,” he introduces. “Want to dance?”

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