Page 101 of Forbidden Lessons

“The lovely Korean family who live at your supposed address in Ashwood Crossing claim they don’t know any Lees. Haven, or otherwise.”

He’s leading me into his bedroom.

I don’t resist.

Ever so gently, he turns me so my back is to the bed, and then slowly pushes down on my shoulders.

And I let him.

“Everything else on your application checked out, so I just left a note in your file that we had to confirm your current address.”

He curls a finger under my chin, lifting it so I’m forced to look up at him.

I don’t fight him.

“But then I met you. And I saw your car. I’m not stupid, Haven. It’s obvious you’re in trouble.”

His eyes flicker to the marks on my throat, and then he disappears into the bathroom. Light pools into the bedroom when he turns on the light, and I hear the cabinet doors opening, closing.

Am I still in shock? Why else would I just sit here like an idiot and wait for him to come back?

Pressure keeps building behind my eyes the longer I sit there, my mind marinating in everything he’s told me.

I visited your address.

I should be relieved that when he returns, he’s holding a first aid kit in his hand, and not a knife.

Professor Rooke takes out a salve, leaning so his shadow doesn’t block out the light from the bathroom as he gently applies it to the sides of my neck.

“Will I get kicked out of college?” I whisper.

He screws the lid back on the tube and tosses it into the kit.

“No, Haven. That grant is for students in actual need. And you, most definitely, are a student in need.”

He rifles through the first aid kit again and takes out a bottle of pills. Shakes one out.

When he sees me watching, he holds it out on his palm.

“For the pain.”

I blink at him. “I’m not in pain.”

“You will be, once the endorphins wear off. Open your mouth.”

My lips part, stars glittering in my eyes as I peer up at him through tear-studded lashes.

“You’re safe now, sweet girl.” He sets the pill on my tongue and pushes my chin closed. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

Chapter 29

Bastian

The brain releases more dopamine when someone fantasizes about sex than when they’re actually fucking. Fantasies, then, should be enough of a thrill.

We convince ourselves they’re not.

Perhaps because humanity’s survival depends on copulation and reproduction.

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