Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals, #1)(82)

“Masks on,” Robert suggests.

Caleb gestures for me to turn around, and he ties the mask’s ribbons behind my head. He secures his own, and then his finger trails up my spine. It’s quick, probably unnoticed by anyone else.

I shoot him a look. It’s weird only seeing his eyes, the quirk of his lips.

We pose for pictures, and I’m too aware of him at my back.

“We should go,” Caleb finally says.

Lenora exhales, lowering her camera. “I’m sorry, I think I got carried away.”

Robert wraps his arms around her shoulders.

“It’s just, our daughter would’ve loved this.” Tears fill Lenora’s eyes.

My heart skips. I feel the urge to go over and hug her, but I don’t dare move.

She waves in front of her face.

“I’m so sorry.” She rushes away.

Robert rubs his hands together. “Sorry about that. She’s happy for you, Margo. It’s just a little overwhelming.”

I nod.

Caleb frowns. “We’re going to head to the dance.”

Robert smiles. “Have a great time. Text me when you get to the after-party. And then we’ll see you home in the morning.”

“Will do!”

On our way out, Riley loops her arm in mine. “Do you think he’s going to check the log? For who signed in?”

I pause. “Oh god.”

“Already taken care of,” Caleb says. “I’ve got someone who will add our names to the list.”

We pile into Eli’s truck. Riley starts to get in the backseat with me, but Caleb stops her. He slides in next to me, his hand on my thigh. We have a whole bench, but we’re pressed close together. Our legs touch, hip to knee, and I lean into him.

“I have something for you,” he says.

I raise my head. Our masks are off, on our laps. My phone and ID are in a clutch that I totally plan on leaving in the car, because it doesn’t match anything. Being maskless means he sees my eyes widen.

“Nothing bad,” he promises.

I roll my eyes. “I hope not.”

“Just close your eyes.”

I watch him for a moment, but he doesn’t move. Slowly, I close my eyes. He shifts, then takes my hand and turns it so my palm is up. He puts something hard and flat on it, supporting my hand with his underneath it.

“Open.”

I do, looking down at the kind of box you’d put a necklace in. At least it isn’t a ring.

“Buying me jewelry already?” I quip.

“Open it.”

We pull into the hotel parking lot. The dance is in one of their ballrooms, apparently—and I’d bet our room is in the same building. He hasn’t said as much, though.

“Dude,” Eli says. “Quit staring at your girl. We’re here.”

Caleb doesn’t tear his gaze away from me. “Leave us. We’ll be there in a minute.”

Riley and Eli get out. I’m not sure why I’m nervous, but my heart rate has spiked.

I flip it open, and it feels like Ian’s kicking me in the stomach all over again.

There’s no oxygen in here.

Sitting on a bed of foam is a bracelet. The hand-braided thread has been strengthened with a cage of sterling silver. I lean closer to get a better look at the work, because it’s familiar. Like a dream or a long-lost memory.

The braid is blue with a single thread of gold. In the fading light, it’s hard to make it out, but the gold glitters.

“I… I made this,” I whisper. “A version of it, anyway.”

“You did.” He lifts the bracelet. It’s been lengthened by chain. Altered. “Do you remember when?”

“I made two.” I shake my head. It is a memory. One I’ve dreamed about recently. Still, it seems to be coming at me from a long way off.

We’re married until these fall off.

He shows me his wrist. There’s the other one, also fortified with metal.

“You—”

“I remember.” His eyes are dark.

God, I used to hate him. And now—I’m pretty sure I just fell in love with him.

Again.

“You fixed them?”

He fastens it to my wrist. Surprisingly—or maybe not, since this seemed to be his color scheme all along—it matches everything. The dress, the masks, my shoes.

“I don’t want them to fall off.”

There goes my heart.

“Let’s have fun, yeah?”

I shake my head. “And then sneak away early?”

His eyes dance. “If you’re persuasive enough.”

“I can do that.”

He opens the door, taking my thin clutch from my hands and tucking it into a pocket in his jacket. Then he holds his hands out for me.

After we tie on our masks, he offers his arm again.

I take a deep breath. The bracelet is all I can concentrate on. That, and what it might mean.

Does Caleb love me, too?





33





We’re dancing. I don’t think we’ve stopped dancing.

It’s an excuse to touch Caleb. And to feel his hands on my bare back. Each tiny stroke of his thumb under the edge of my dress, inching closer to my ass, sends sparks through me. It’s dangerous and dirty, and I desperately want him to take me upstairs, already.