Page 16 of Never Broken

“This kitchen sponge could do better,” he scoffed. “I know that textbook he was holding.”

“So what? Corey’s been an engineering major for three years.”

“I was studying that shit when I was sixteen. And I bet he didn’t get his knuckles switched whenever he forgot to carry the one. I never made the same mistake twice after that.”

“But you must have!”

“Never.”

“Come on,” I insisted. Then, after a pause: “Will you show me?”

“How much is it worth to you?” He rubbed his thumb and finger together, a sly look on his face.

“Are you crazy? You’re a slave. You don’t get paid. If I tell you to tutor me, you tutor me.”

“Nope. Not how it works. You said it yourself. Your dad owns me. It’s up to him.”

“Forget it, then.” If I asked him, I wasn’t a hundred percent convinced my father would say no. In fact, the odds were very good he’d say yes, which scared me even more. Was I hoping he’d say yes? And if I was, was it because the boy’s knowledge could save me from flunking out of school, or because I was already melting into a puddle at the prospect of seeing that magnificent body sitting across the desk from me every day while I ordered him not to look me in the eyes and secretly, breathlessly hoped that he would?

Probably better that I didn’t find out.

“Come on. We’ve both got work to do.” I gestured toward the door.

But he didn’t move. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

I couldn’t help it. I followed his gaze downward to where his arms were crossed in front of his chest. Looking closer to where hundreds of small, precise scars were on display, following the trails of his veins.

He must have read my expression. “Like I said,” he explained quietly. “Every time I got a problem wrong.”

I knew then I couldn’t hurt him again. I just couldn’t. “I’ll make up a story,” I said. “Just stay in here until he leaves. It’ll be fine. It’s my house. I don’t care what he thinks.”

From outside came an angry pounding on the door. “Lou, what are you doing in there? Hitting the shit out of him, I hope.”

“Did I mention your boyfriend’s a real charming guy?”

“He’s not my?—”

“Whatever. Look, if we go out there and I’m not bleeding, or if he thinks you’re lying, he’s going to think something’s up. There are witnesses. And then it’s going to get back to your dad.”

I hadn’t thought of that. If Corey told Daddy I’d refused to punish his new slave, all of a sudden, Daddy’s mind would be racing to places it shouldn’t race. But. I bit back a sob, looking from him to the door. Why wasIthe one who felt like I was about to cry? “But I can’t. I told you, I never?—”

“There.” He had turned, his eyes alighting on the thin bamboo switch, sitting innocuously in the umbrella stand by the front door.

Slowly, my heart pounding, I crossed the room and picked it up.

“Give it to me.”

He’d just given me an order. The irony of it was bitter. Still, slowly, mechanically, I handed it to him and took a step back, but not before meeting his amber-gold eyes guiltily one more time.

What’s one more?They seemed to reassure me.

He closed his eyes briefly. Then he brought it down on his own hand, hard.

But only I flinched.

I opened my eyes to a thin red line of blood glistening on his wrist, perfect and jewel-like, over the old scars. He handed me back the switch, then opened the door to the terrace and held it. “After you, miss.”

HIM

---