Page 58 of Wild Fury (Fallen Royals 6)

Burning seems ironic, given his current frozen state. I long to yank him out of that—because it isn’t about watching the world burn, it’s about him. I can’t answer him, because his grip on my throat suddenly cuts off my oxygen.

“Where the fuck is my car, Lux?” His fingers relax just enough for me to suck in air.

I inhale the best I can and meet his eyes. This is what I’ve been missing the last two weeks. I crave the fear he incites. Turned on by it, too. Heat pools between my legs.

I ignore my body’s reaction. It’s thrummed like this around him for years, since before I realized what sex was.

“You seem upset.” My voice is hoarse, like I was screaming underwater.

I wasn’t. I wouldn’t, because that would break rule number one.

Don’t give the beast what he wants.

He releases me and rocks back on his heels.

I slip down the tub a bit and quickly bring my heels under me. His gaze turns hungry as I rise out of the water. He hasn’t seen me naked before, although I’m almost certain he’s dreamed about it.

He doesn’t move.

I reach for him, putting my hand on his shoulder for balance to step out.

Once my feet are on solid ground, and I’m in less imminent danger of drowning, I smirk. I have the upper hand now. I have his car, I made him come after me. If it was up to him, he would’ve ignored me until those two weeks were up.

Now, I win. And the memory of our awful kiss is cemented in my memory.

His gaze is hot, running up and down my body. His eyes are level with my breasts. I move slowly and step closer, lowering myself. I straddle his lap and dig my fingers into his shoulders. Everything in me is screaming to make him go away… or pull him closer.

I’m constantly at war with myself.

His dark hair is getting a bit long, and I need to remind myself that I shouldn’t touch him again. Not without the bite of anger behind our actions. My fingers itch to push his hair off his forehead, to run my nails against his scalp.

He’d probably like that.

I wriggle forward, until our chests are flush.

“Lucy,” he says in a low voice.

I tut and tap his lips. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Lux, then.” His lips move against my finger. His attention is fixed on my face, bouncing between my mouth and eyes.

I drop my hand.

The first time I stole a car, I was fifteen. I didn’t know how to drive and I ended up crashing it straight through my grandmother’s garage. The car was my father’s. The high was there. The need to be seen by my family was there, too.

I don’t really give a shit about the car. It’s never about the car—it’s what that vehicle means to someone. My father’s car, Theo’s. If I wanted my mother’s attention, I would rearrange her closet and try to corrupt Amelie.

See?

It’s just a manipulation. Cars don’t mean anything, but I do give a shit about irritating Theo. I moved on rather quickly from my family’s cars, from classmates or random strangers. The thrill lacked. But Theo promises a dangerous retribution.

The fear is my own sort of high.

He grabs my jaw and holds me still. He runs his nose up the side of my face, into my wet hair. I freeze, because my facade isn’t working. He’s inciting madness in both of us.

He doesn’t make a move to touch anything other than my jaw, my neck. His free hand rests on my hip, and I wonder if that’s an accident.

“What do you want?” he asks me.

---