Wild Fury (Fallen Royals #6)

by S. Massery

  “Lucille,” Grandma says.

  “Grandmother.”

  She’s not a huge fan of the formal name, but neither am I. I only use it when she uses Lucille. And honestly, what were my parents thinking? It’s an old person’s name. It’s my great-grandmother’s name—that’s how old it is.

  “Your photography is impressive,” she finally says. “But I’m not sure it is going to lead to a career.”

  I do look up now. “What?”

  “All I’m saying is that you should try putting your energy into other things.”

  “I take photos for the school newspaper.” I shove my glasses up my nose. I can’t wait for the day I can just wear contacts and be done with it. Or better yet, get that laser surgery and toss my glasses entirely. “And I usually write up something about the games. Sports journalism is a big career.”

  She shrugs.

  “Or fashion,” I add, hating how my anger rises so fast. “I could take famous people’s portraits for magazines—like Mom’s magazine. She might even hire me.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Grandma.” I try to keep the sting out of the word.

  “Next year, you’ll be applying to schools.” She reaches over and pats my hand. “Where you go to college will affect the rest of your life.”

  Great. Except for the tiny fact that I’m not sure if I can even afford college. My parents haven’t said anything about funding it, or helping me out in the slightest. I’m the forgotten child, after all.

  We turn into the Lion’s Head driveway, and she navigates slowly past the circle that leads up to the main part of the building. Our football field—a giant, ostentatious thing—is set back, past a thicket of trees. It’s in a league of its own, with its own parking and everything.

  She stops off to the side, because the main drop-off zone is far too crowded. I slide my camera back into the padded bag and seal it closed.

  “Do you need a ride home?” she asks.

  I know better than to say yes. The game will be late, and her and Grandpa are always in bed by nine. I’ll be lucky to get a few quotes from our players for the paper and be out of here by ten.

  “I’m all set,” I tell her.

  Dusk is already falling. Night games are my favorite. Slightly harder to shoot with the fluorescent lights beaming down, reflecting off helmets… but I like a challenge.

  I hop out and circle the field. It’s not completely closed in like a real stadium, although its grandeur can sometimes make it feel like that. There are two tall stands on either long side of the field. The goal posts are huge, gold, stretching for the sky, and a net protects the brave souls who sit on the stands on the short sides.

  The players aren’t out yet, but the crowd is filing in. They take their seats in the rows above mine. Students and parents, everyone decked out in the school’s purple and black. Even I’ve dressed for the occasion, a black long-sleeve shirt with the purple outline of a lion’s profile across the chest. Lion’s Head is written in bold down one of the sleeves.

  People go all out for these games. Someone from the pep squad hands out streamers and noise makers nearby. I ignore them all and focus on setting up my camera.

  “Lucy,” someone calls. A girl from my math class jogs over. “Hey.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Do you really get to stand here? With the team?”

  I glance to my right, where the team has their own seating. There’s a table with drinks already set up on it, a big orange cooler, and some towels. Everything is ready for them to run out onto the field—which they will any moment.

  I click my zoom lens onto the camera. “Well, I need to get shots for the paper, so…”

  “Right, cool. That’s nice.”

  “Yeah.” I sling the strap around my neck and rise, leaving my bag tucked under the bench. I ignore her, taking a few test photos and adjusting my settings. The lights flicker on around us, changing everything again. In a few more minutes, the sky will be completely dark.

  “Emery-Rose players are so hot,” she says.

  I jerk around. “Huh?”

  “I have a crush on the whole team. I know we’re rivals, and none of them would pay attention to us, but still.”

  Us. She’s grouped me in with her: another invisible girl.

  Just wait.

  I shrug and raise my camera to my eye. “Speak for yourself.”

  She disappears after that—at least, I think she does. I move to the white line and check my settings again, fiddling with a dial. Our football team rushes out, and the crowd on my side cheers for them. I’ll have to duck over to the opposing side at some point, capture the sea of black and purple.

  We’re like a bruise.

  I can’t help but focus on the Emery-Rose Elite team when they come out the other side. They all run in a big unit, a show of force. Their side cheers and yells—it’s a good turnout for a game in the middle of the season. But since our towns are so close to each other, it’s easy to know why they’ve all flocked here.

  The cheerleaders bounce alongside them.

  I spot my sister waving her pom-poms in the air, a plastic smile in place. I focus in on her and snap some shots. The gold and white of her uniform gives her skin a sun-kissed tone, even under the strong lights. I ignore the twinge of jealousy.

  My sister gets to live at home, be popular, have good, clear skin. She doesn’t fry in the sun like I tend to do.

  One of the Emery-Rose players breaks off and takes a step in this direction. I narrow my eyes, recognizing him immediately. Theo Alistair.

  It wasn’t too long ago that he paced Lion’s Head’s halls—and now he’s there.

  “Slut,” someone coughs behind me.

  My cheeks flush, but I ignore the insult. I turn away from Theo and focus on my own damn team.

  Soon enough, the players return to their sides. I check my phone, the sparse notifications on my photography social media, type out a quick text to Amelie. I doubt she has her phone on her, but maybe she’ll appreciate me reaching out… My thumb hovers over the send button.

  “Shouldn’t she be on the other side?”

  My shoulders stiffen. They’re talking about me—they’re always talking about me. Never about Theo, or any number of people who seem to ignore the rivalry between the two schools. Never about the two boys who left Lion’s Head to play football—and lacrosse—for Emery-Rose.

  “You belong over there, traitor.”

  The two boys move past me, and I let out a slow breath. The game begins, and I cast a glance over at the Emery-Rose stands. So much gold and black, an overwhelming majority of their school colors. Not for the first time, I wonder if it would be different if I attended that school. If, there, the Page last name would protect me.

  If Amelie would even take me under her wing.

  Who knows, she might leave me to the wolves.

  I do my job for the rest of the game: I stay out of the players’ way and take as many photos as I can. I’ll go home after this and select the good few, edit what I can, and then send the selection to the newspaper editor—one of the senior girls who works with the English teacher.

  There’s a break after the third quarter, and I hurry to the bathroom. The whole game, I’ve blocked out the comments of the people behind me. It’s usually not a big deal, but tonight… maybe it’s because my attention keeps drifting to Theo, and they can feel it. They’re as affected by his gravitational pull as I am.

  “Luce?”

  I step out of the stall and eye my sister.

  She leans against the door, blocking anyone from coming in. “They’re talking about you.”

  “Who?”

  “Everyone. They say you had sex with Theo.”

  I wince. “I didn’t.”

  “They’re saying he fucked you.” Her gaze is hard. “That you let him… do other stuff.”

  “Well, I just said I didn’t.” I sigh. “Why do you give a shit, anyway? It isn’t like they connect
me to you. Different schools, different features…”

  The cheerleading princess and the quiet freak.

  We don’t even look that much alike—and we certainly don’t have the same attitude. Not after being raised separate. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to cultivate that sense of sisterhood with her, or if our parents ruined it.

  Ruined us.

  “He’s furious.”

  I wash my hands and check my slight makeup, then shove my glasses up my nose. “He’s always furious.”

  She sighs and snags my wrist when I get close, pulling me into a hug. “Sorry.”

  I squirm until she releases me. “Now’s not the time to get sentimental, Ames.”

  Someone bangs on the door, rattling the handle.

  She just rolls her eyes and steps back, flipping the lock. Immediately, another Emery-Rose cheerleader shoves inside. Her gaze lands on me, and she opens her mouth.

  Amelie latches on to the girl’s arm and squeezes. “Don’t.”

  “I—”

  “Queen Amelie,” I mutter, slipping past both of them. Even her own friends would be so quick to say something cruel to me.

  The bathroom exits out onto a narrow, dimly lit hallway. The men’s bathroom is on the other side, a few yards down. I hurry back toward the field, and I almost make it before someone grabs me. I’m shoved face-first into the outer wall of the bathrooms, and the person leans into me.

  “Little monster.”

  Theo, then.

  I struggle against him, but I’m at a disadvantage. He lets me fight for a moment before stepping back, and I whirl around.

  He towers over me. Dark hair, blue eyes, two lines of black smeared under his eyes. With the war paint, he seems more savage. This lighting creates sharp shadows on his face, enhancing the cut of his cheekbones and jaw.

  Beautiful chaos. That’s what I saw as a kid, and that’s what I’ve been chasing.

  He holds something up, shaking it to draw my attention down. Anything to break my stare, I guess. My camera dangles in his loose grasp.

  I jump for it without thinking, and he scowls.

  “You’ve been spreading rumors,” he says.

  “Which ones?” I huff. “There are so many, I can’t keep track.”

  His eyes narrow. “How many images are on here, I wonder? Any keepers?”

  I suddenly can’t get enough oxygen in my lungs. “It’s a job.”

  “That reminds me of a particular rumor…” He drops the camera and reaches out, shoving me to my knees.

  I go easily, more surprised than anything. My fingers snag the camera’s strap, drawing it toward me, but then I go completely still. Theo winds his hand into my hair, pulling my head back just a bit.

  I’m level with his groin.

  Oh god.

  “Do the rumors kill you on the inside?” he asks. “Do they make your cheeks turn a pretty shade of red?”

  He tugs me even farther away, until I tip my head back and meet his gaze.

  “Does this turn you on?” I can’t help the question. “Does me on my knees do it for you like nothing else?”

  He grimaces and releases me.

  I latch on to his legs, winding my hands around the backs of his thighs. I don’t know why. I have the inexplicable urge to follow my instincts: to drag his pants down and suck him off, even when we’re just around the corner from a thousand people. His muscles twitch under my palms.

  “I’m not afraid of public humiliation.” I lean forward and bite the waistband of his tight black pants. He probably has a cup on to protect himself, but I need to see how far he’ll go.

  “Stop,” he growls.

  He yanks me up, and my teeth release the fabric with a snap.

  “You don’t turn me on,” he says.

  Lies.

  “You on your knees doesn’t do it for me. Every time I see you, I want to smash your skull in.” He guides me back to the wall.

  My head hits the painted brick. He’s transfixed. His gaze travels over my face, my parted lips, my hair, my eyes.

  “Like that. Harder. Over and over until your blood runs free.” His hand on the base of my throat isn’t hard. He barely touches me at this point.

  I can see it. The wild look in his eyes. The way he believes what he says. I reach out and grab his jaw, just because he’s close enough. Because I don’t think he’ll murder me tonight.

  It’s always a limit with him, to see how far I can shove before he breaks.

  Or before he breaks me.

  “Trust me, Theo, you’ll fall in love with me long before you can commit murder.”

  My words startle him. Maybe that’s why he jerks away like my grip burns, why he turns away.

  He pauses, though, just on the edge of returning to the field.

  “The rumors will end now,” he tells me. “But you and I…”

  I know. I’ve only showed him the demons that run through my mind in small pieces. They’re kept well at bay, but sometimes I just want to scream. To release my anger in a way that inflicts the most damage.

  I lift my chin, even though his back is still to me. The motion gives me the illusion of being strong. “I want your darkness,” I call. “All of it. I’ll dive through it until I find something more.”

  His laugh drifts back toward me. “There is nothing more.”

  22

  Lux

  I put on my new LBU hoodie and double-check my camera. The battery, the lenses. Ruby busies herself with makeup, a dark swipe of eyeliner, mascara. She seems bolder tonight, her movements bigger.

  Perhaps she and Sebastian have settled on their lies.

  Or this society—which Theo tells me is everywhere—has sunk its claws deeper into her.

  “Ready?” she asks.

  I glance at her. “Are you?”

  “Almost.” She picks out a lipstick, the color as bold as her, and carefully applies it. “Okay, now.”

  A group of us are going to the football game tonight. Ruby didn’t include that detail in her invitation, but I suppose beggars can’t be choosers. I pocket my key and ID and follow her out.

  My thoughts return to Theo, how he says it’s crueler of him to be nice. And it’s true—besides the bathroom incident, he’s been overwhelmingly… not bad. The fact that I didn’t notice until he pointed it out worries me. It seems like both of us are softening toward each other.

  Ah.

  That’s it. He’s figured out a new way to get under my skin—like he doesn’t live there full time anyway. He’s going to try and make me fall in love with him, and that’s when he’ll crush me for real. It won’t work, though. I know I’m not worth loving.

  So even if I do fall, I know he won’t catch me.

  “Oh, Lucy, you’re joining us?” Felicity beams at me. She’s been nice and bubbly. Normal, even.

  If only I could get the image of her and the mystery man from the woods out of my head. Or the fact that she’s part of the society whose name I have yet to uncover. They recruit sophomores. Not everyone on LBU West is one of them.

  Those are the things I keep repeating.

  “Ruby invited me,” I say.

  Well, I’m sure she’d retract that invitation—especially after yesterday morning.

  “Lovely. We ordered a car, it should be here soon.” Her gaze flits down to my camera bag. “What’s that?”

  “Lucy is a photographer,” Ruby says. “Gorgeous portraits in her portfolio.”

  I shoot her a look. I never showed her, which means she might’ve gone snooping after Sebastian and Hale invaded my privacy. The nerve of this girl.

  My stomach swoops, followed by the urge to get away from all of them.

  Ruby watches me, and I paste on a smile.

  “Thanks,” I say sweetly. “Portraits are okay, but I prefer action shots. I covered the sports for my high school and thought this might be a good opportunity.”

  Felicity doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss and nods along with me. “Cool.”


  “Let’s go.” Ruby points. “Is that the car?”

  “Yep.” One of the other girls—Miranda, I think, from the frat party—smiles at me. “Heard you turned down Bash.”

  I roll my eyes. “He’s not for me.”

  “Theo, right?” She nudges me. “He’s not bad to look at. Plays well, too.”

  “The coach shuffles him around,” a guy adds. “He plays a variety of positions well.”

  For all my photography, I don’t know much about football. No one took the time to explain the game to me—not even Theo. But I hid my ignorance by refusing to talk about it, and even now I nod along like I know what he means.

  We pile into the SUV waiting at the curb outside the campus gates, and it takes us a mile northeast, past the main campus, to the LBU stadium. This, unlike Lion’s Head, really is a stadium. We enter through one of the big arched gates and up a short flight of stairs. A wide hallway sweeps around the field with intermittent openings. Giant numbers direct fans to their seats.

  “Come on,” Felicity says. “We’ve got special seating.”

  Ruby perks up. “Yeah?”

  Miranda smirks. “You’re with us now.”

  I raise my eyebrow, but the three of them move ahead of me. I’m taken back to high school, the invisible, quiet girl with her camera. I tag along behind them and the guys, at the edge of the pack. There are banners hung along the wall with prior championship years stitched into the fabric.

  There are a few vendors inset along the outer walls, and it reminds me of other, larger stadiums I’ve seen in movies. I didn’t know LBU had a stadium this large. It didn’t factor into my decision… oh, wait, I didn’t have a decision.

  They turn down one of the openings, and we step out toward the center of the long stretch of field. We go down the stairs, and I glance around. There aren’t many more rows… And then Felicity reaches the barrier and rotates, pointing to the grouping of seats.

  Holy shit.

  The LBU team benches are directly in front of us.

  “This good?” Felicity asks. She grins at me. “Better than what you were expecting, surely.”

  I choke on a laugh. “You could say that.”