Page 36 of Lessons in Cruelty

I fucking knew something was up with that guy.

“Cool story. Now stay the hell away from me.”

We both move at the same time.

I slide to the side, grabbing the top of the car door so I can close it behind me. He darts forward, laying his hand over mine, blocking me in the gap with his body. There’s a pinch as he tightens his grip. Then a burst of pain when he pushes a hand into my chest just below my collar bones, grinding me against the sharp jamb.

I grab the back of his hand, trying to pull him away. Trying to tug my fingers free where he has them curled over the top of the door.

“Leaving so soon? I thought we could reminisce about old times. You ever do that, Haven? Think about old times?”

“Kai, I swear, if you don’t⁠—“

His face twists, and he snatches his hand away from the door. “Why the fuck are you so sticky?”

“Apple pie.”

“The fuck?” he snaps, frowning even harder.

“Pie. With apples. Apple. Pie.”

He must think I’m being condescending, but I’m just trying to say whatever he wants to hear so he’ll let me go.

But the game’s rigged.

I gasp when he catches hold of my wrist and drags it up so he can sniff my fingers. He glances down at the streaks of pie filling coating my skin and then gives each finger a careful lick.

“Can you taste the poison?”

Of course I think about those days. The games I’d play with that boy in the woods was the only thing that kept me sane back then. We made up a version of Snow White that would have had Tarantino clutching his pearls.

Kai frowns as he glances past me into the car. His face shifts into a bemused smile. I can still see the anger bubbling under it, but he’s always liked his games.

Especially the cruel ones.

“Aw, Heavenly,” he says, releasing my wrist.

I might have tried to punch him, maybe claw at his face, pop an eyeball with my nail, I don’t know…but he’s too fast. The hand on my chest has already slid up to my throat, and he’s squeezing.

Hard.

“You forget? I’m immune to your poison, witch,” he whispers as he leans past me.

He must have scooped up a handful from the takeout container, because when Kai’s hand reappears, it’s dripping with filling.

I stare at him with sick fascination as he shoves the filling into his mouth, streaks of sauce and bits of apple smearing his lips and chin. “Oh, wow,” he mumbles around the pie. “Mmm. So good…”

But then he stops talking. Stops chewing. Gags.

“Jesus, how old is this?”

I give him a tight smile, pointing to the corner of my mouth. “You got a little mold there.”

And fuck if that split second of revulsion glinting in his green eyes doesn’t make me feel like the fucking Red Queen demanding someone’s head and seeing it roll at my feet.

Until anger replaces Kai’s shock.

He spits out the apple pie goo into his hand, his mouth still curled up in disgust.