Page 14 of Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals 1)

My body is shaking.

I lost a game I had no chance of winning—big surprise. Caleb has given me a handful of punishments in the span of a week. I recognize that. Even kissing Savannah on Saturday was some sort of payback.

“It’s going to cost you.”

My knees give out. My ass hits the bench painfully hard.

He watches me for a moment, and then he leaves.

I can’t stop trembling. I raise my hand to my lips.

That was my first kiss.

A first kiss, stolen away by a bully. By a boy I thought I used to like. By a boy I used to dream about. It rattles me more than I want to admit, and I stare at the ground for a long minute. He kissed me. Claimed me like I’m no better than an object he’s writing his name on.

No.

It can’t happen like that. I’m not a puppet, dancing when he jerks my strings. I’m not soft—my childhood has seen to that. I will not bend to him.

And I will certainly not break.

Eventually, I lift my textbook and shake off the dirt from his shoe. I stuff it and my notebook into my bag, skipping homeroom and heading for my first class. I lean against a locker, waiting for the bell to ring.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

Unknown: Stay away from Caleb.

I groan. Of all the things—of all the people for my stalker to be obsessed with, it has to be Caleb. I don’t bother answering it. Instead, I turn it off and put my phone in my bag. The bell rings.

In a matter of moments, the hallways are flooded with students. I wait until the classroom is empty, then slip into a seat. The golden boys come in after everyone else, but no one has taken their seats. They sprawl out in their chairs, laughing with each other.

Caleb is silent, burning a hole in my spine like normal.

The teacher comes in, closing the door with a purpose, and everyone shuts up. “We’re going to start a history project that will carry us through the semester.”

Someone raises their hand. “We get partners?”

“Do we get to pick?” another asks.

“The project? Yes. Partners? Maybe. I’ll allow you to submit three names to me at the end of class, and I’ll be making final decision on the partners at the end of the week. Moving on…”

“Better see my name on your paper, Sheep,” Caleb says behind me. “We’re inevitable.”

I can’t hide my shudder. It’s stupid that I can still taste him on my lips. I drag the back of my hand across my lips, and he kicks the back of my chair. I do it again, and he kicks harder.

“Stop,” I hiss.

“Make me.”

“Mr. Asher,” the teacher calls. “Are you paying attention?”

“Trying to, ma’am. Wolfe here is quite distracting.”

The students snicker.

“Margo?”

“Sorry.” What else can I say? Nothing that would get me out of this.