Page 109 of Forbidden Lessons

She started crying, and fuck was I panicking as I cut her loose with my dull kitchen knife. Thank God, when she ran, I caught her, because if I hadn’t been able to calm her down, I don’t know what would have happened if she went home in that state.

There were rope marks all over her wrists and ankles from how hard she’d fought.

Looking back, I was silly to think I’d have gotten into trouble. Her dad was stoned out of his mind on meth most of the time, anyway. And when he wasn’t, he simply didn’t give a shit about his daughter. At least, not that I could tell. Why else would he let her run around in the woods behind our trailer until dark every day?

But even after I calmed her down, and she said there were no hard feelings, I wasn’t expecting her to come back.

I got to our meeting spot the next day and there she was, sitting on the rock near the creek, braiding a daisy chain.

My relief was short-lived. I’ll never forget the way she looked at me, an impassive, calculating look in her blue eyes as she put that crown on her head and informed me in her most regal voice that today, she was a princess, and I was the dark prince who would kidnap her.

That was the day we stopped playing games and began indulging in fantasies.

The darker, the better.

…I wasn’t fucking done

I wasn’t either, Haven, but Christ, you scared the living shit out of me when your eyes rolled up like that and I thought you’d stopped breathing.

That I’dchokedyou out.

If I’d held on just a little longer, she would be dead right now.

If I’d fought Ezra just a little longer all those years ago, he’d be dead too.

But I’m not sure that’s what I really wanted, then or now.

Killing someone takes balls, sure, but a lot of planning, too. It’s usually the guys that off someone in the heat of the moment that go to jail. If I’m going to kill someone, I won’t get caught.

If I’m going to suffer, it might as well be as a free man.

Chapter 31

Haven

A loudbangwrenches me from the deepest, most luxurious sleep I’ve ever slept. I sit up with a strangled gasp, swinging to the source of the sound. I’m still in Professor Rooke’s house. And if this was one of those ‘spot the difference’ puzzles, the only thing I can see is a dark smear on one of the bedroom windows.

The fuck was that?

More importantly, whythe fuckam I still at Professor Rooke’s house?

I take a few quick breaths, trying to calm down my racing heart. Talk about a fucking jump scare.

“Prof—” I cut off. “Bastian?”

There’s a weird echo in this house that tells me I’m alone. It should be comforting.

No awkward conversations. No regretting just about everything that happened yesterday. Instead, it makes me feel exposed, like there’s no one to protect me if a wolf charges through the door to tear out my throat.

Geez, my imagination mill got to work early this morning. Must be the fantastic night’s sleep I had on these duck down pillows and Egyptian cotton sheets.

I’d still be sleeping if it wasn’t for the thirst. My throat is dry, my mouth gummy and gross.

Slipping reluctantly out of the warm, soft, impossibly silky bed, I pad over to the window to take a closer look.

“Aw, shit, man,” I murmur. “Sorry, buddy.”

There’s a bird on the other side of the glass. Judging from the angle of its neck, its flying days are over.

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