Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals, #1)(69)

“What do you—”

My words are cut off when he pulls me forward and shoves me back again. My head cracks against the locker. I must’ve bit my tongue, because blood fills my mouth.

“No talking,” he whispers. “You and me are going for a little walk.”

His fingers dig into my arm. He drags me down the hall, through a side door that leads out toward the soccer fields.

I don’t make a sound. Fear stirs in my chest as we skirt the field, headed toward the woods. The path that the cross-country runners use. I ran into Theo out here once, but I doubt I’ll be that lucky a second time.

It’s darker in the forest. We’re ten steps in, and suddenly the world is a whole lot more sinister. Muted sunlight flickers through the trees. It’s cloudy today, so even the golden leaves of autumn don’t make it a happier—or warmer—place. We could be standing in a graveyard.

He releases me.

I don’t know why that surprises me more than anything. Maybe I thought he’d reveal a knife and slice me open. Or hurt me in some other way.

“You,” he says. “You’ve managed to ensnare Caleb Asher. How?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

He pushes me backward, his face contorting.

I stumble and hit a tree, and it’s the only thing that keeps me upright.

“You. Margo Wolfe. He hated you for how many years? Six?”

“Seven.”

“Seven.” He laughs.

Birds take off to our left, a great flurry of motion.

I flinch.

“He uses people,” Ian warns. “Whatever you think you feel… it’s a lie. A manipulation.”

I cross my arms over my chest. Maybe it’ll protect my heart from his words. “Why are you telling me this?”

His hand coasts over my jaw, his fingers gripping my chin and moving my face to the side. It’s painful, but I don’t make a peep.

His eyes latch on to the bite mark on my neck. It’s mostly faded—enough that I only put a light layer of concealer on it—but the makeup must’ve worn off.

“We were friends,” he says. “And then high school starts, and he becomes a lacrosse god. Once I filled my use, I was kicked to the curb.”

“You showed him,” I respond. “You stole his girlfriend. Had her cheat on him—”

“Fat lot of fucking good that did.”

“Your problem isn’t with me.” My voice is low. The fear is strangling me the closer he gets.

Heat pours off his body. He’s too close.

He laughs. He releases my chin, and I turn my face to the side. I don’t want to see whatever madness is on his face. His hand wraps around my throat.

“My problem is most certainly with you, Sheep.” He squeezes.

I keep my hands at my sides, but I meet his eyes. If his goal is to make me beg, he has another thing coming.

“You’re the key to getting back at Caleb. I think he may even love you.”

It’s hard to breathe. Swallow. Panic claws at me.

I can’t answer him. I won’t.

Caleb Asher does not love me.

“It’s a game to him,” I wheeze.

Ian frowns.

If he wasn’t a maniac, he might even be handsome. He sure got Amelie’s attention.

“Please,” I mumble, finally bringing my hands up to his wrist.

He grunts, releasing me, and I slide to the ground.

This seems familiar.

Déjà vu.

Ian squats next to me, grabbing my arm. He yanks it toward him, shoving my sleeve up. “Something to remember me by.”

He pulls out a permanent marker, biting the cap off, and writes a word across my forearm.

I watch in horror as he puts his teeth to my skin. He bites hard. The pain travels up my arm like an electric shock. It’s nothing like what Caleb has done to me. This is fear and disgust wrapped in one. I’m dirty. The need to step out of my own skin is almost overwhelming.

Tears flood my eyes. There’s an instant bruise forming just above my wrist bone.

It’s more violating than I would’ve thought. Than I could’ve guessed.

“Who do you hate worse?” I ask him. I can’t look at my arm, which has a pulse of its own. “Me or Caleb?”

Ian sighs. “I don’t like you,” he says. “But I hate Caleb Asher. And this… you’re the easier target. The button to push to make Caleb feel something other than self-righteous.” He lifts one shoulder. “Pity he wasn’t there to protect you this time.”

He stands, and something cold slides over his features.

I have an instant to prepare before his foot snaps forward, connecting with my stomach.

Pain and helplessness explode through me. He kicks me twice more, and I fall to the side.

I wrap my arms around my middle, moaning into the ground.

Ian’s foot pushes me flat onto my back. He leans over me, a scowl marring his face.

“I meant what I said before.” He raises his eyebrow, daring me to remember.

I don’t. There are so many awful things he’s said, that I’ve pushed out of my mind.

“You’re nothing, Sheep. A girl from a trash family. You’re so fucking out of place.”

He walks away. I watch him from my position on the ground, in a fetal position, until he disappears from view.