Page 128 of Lessons in Cruelty

The fuck was that?

More importantly, why the fuck am 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.

Jeez, 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, or that noise. 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,” I murmur.

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

I head into the bathroom and take a few sips of water from the faucet before emptying my bladder—another reason I was pulled from sleep.

As soon as I start peeing, I wince and nearly force myself to stop.

Fuck, Kai’s fingers did a real number on me down there. I’m shocked I don’t see blood when I wipe.

When I go to wash my hands, I spot my sundress on the railing where I left it to dry yesterday. My underwear is on the floor. I stare at it so long I have an afterimage, but then I see the rumpled towel on the rail where it had been.

Bastian must have dried himself off and tucked the towel in there without realizing he’d dislodged my underwear.

I force myself to snap out of the mental image of Professor Rooke drying off after a shower. Too slow, but I’m not mad about it. That’s going to live rent-free in my head for days to come.

I lean on my palms so I can get closer to the mirror.

It looks like I barely survived a date with Patrick Bateman.

My hair is a disaster. There are dark smudges under my eyes. But whatever Professor Rooke put on my neck has drastically improved the marks on my throat. And the painkillers he gave me were the stuff of dreams.

I mean, I feel nothing.

Nothing.

Okay, I feel a little sexy. My bare legs rubbing together under a soft hoodie that smells like my professor, who the fuck wouldn’t?

A massive shift from how I felt yesterday when I stopped at Lookout Point. When I was still tender, stinging, aching, and so fucking stuck in my head, I didn’t know if I was coming or going.

…you like being used like this, don’t you?…

Fuck, I wish I was normal and sane, but I guess I’m not. Because it did feel good. Kai’s hand wrapped around my throat made me want to leave my body…and that was before he added his fingers to the mix.

When I step back and lift my hands to do something about my hair, I notice white streaks on my palms.

I hadn’t seen the ghostly traces of powder on the white granite countertop.

Baby powder?