Page 108 of Forbidden Lessons

Guess she was saving all her energy for the gang bang.

“You two were so close,” he says, shaking his head as he goes to stand by the window. “I mean, fuck, you loved that girl.”

The knuckles on the hand holding the Jäger have gone white. “Shut up,” I push through gritted teeth.

“No one should have to live a lie. Especially not my brother. Watching her shame you like…”

“Ezra, stop.” It’s a low, warning growl, but he’s too caught up in his pious retelling of the past to listen to me.

“You know? I’m glad she came back. Glad we could hammer this nail in her coffin. Maybe now she’ll stay dead. Maybe now you can finally get a girlfriend.”

He flinches when the bottle of Jägermeister explodes against the wall a few feet from him.

In the hush that follows, there’s only a soft tinkle of glass as a shard settles.

“That almost hit me,” he says, turning eyes the color of dying moss onto me.

You almost hurt me.

You almost strangled me.

You almost killed me.

Almost…but never quite.

Blood is thicker than water. That’s the only reason I suffer this psychotic asshole’s presence. His influence. Hisauthority.

There’s not enough water in the world to wash away the blood Ezra has coaxed from my body over the years, literally and figuratively. I thought he’d drained me dry, then he told me about Haven’s whorish tendencies, and I became a dried husk of a man.

He shakes his arms, glancing down at the booze splashed over his once-pristine polo shirt, picking a tiny shard of glass out of his arm hair.

“I want you sober tomorrow night. The social committee is meeting to discuss the final particulars of that stupid gala.”

He heads for the door, pausing at the sound of my groan as I lower myself back on my bed.

“I mean it, Kai. You can’t neglect your responsibilities at this fraternity.”

When he slams my door shut, I flinch, and then drag my fingers through my hair. Hunt for the roach so I can light it up. I tug the warm, sweet smoke into my lungs, my muscles relaxing as the weed numbs me.

I hike up the sleeve of my hoodie and stare at the bite mark on my arm, running a thumb over the angry, raised puncture wounds.

Then the memories flood in, and I can’t stop them.

This wasn’t the first time she bit me. It was one of her favorite things to do when we played. If I was the pirate who’d abducted her, she’d fight to get free before I could tie her to the tree as a sacrifice for the kraken.

And fuck, would she fight.

Sometimes I left the woods in a worse condition than when I got there.

I’ll never forget the first time I hurt her. I’d gotten to the woods in a bad mood to begin with after Ezra had let off some steam by kicking me in the ribs for a while. We were fighting our way through a tiger infested jungle in the Amazon when a troop of cannibals attacked us. I saved her, only to have one of the cannibals stalk us and capture her.

First, I was the hero, then I became the villain.

Then she turned into a cannibal and bit my hand. I suppose it was because I ignored her when she said the ropes were too tight, when I just kept antagonizing her as she struggled and screamed.

It was hard to tell what was real and make believe back then.

So she bit my hand. Drew blood. It hurt so much I backhanded her, leaving a streak of blood over her face that I thought was hers.

---