Page 476 of Lessons in Cruelty

Kai

Haven’s wet hair wraps easily around my fist, the perfect grip for me to jerk her away from the broken window with. There’s glass scattered all over the floor here, and I feel at least two pieces slice into my feet, but that’s a problem for later.

She yells when I shove her away, and again when her legs tangle and send her sprawling to the wooden floor.

“That’s two,” I chuckle darkly.

There’s a clatter as something hits the floorboards and spins away. She rolls onto her back, reaching desperately for it, but I’m already towering over her, grabbing her throat, dragging her to her feet.

Not a lot of furniture in the cabin. Two end tables, a three-seater sofa, and the bed on the other side of the room.

The bed would have been nice, but the sofa’s closer. The wall beside the window, even closer still.

Haven’s fighting back.

I need to restrain her.

Subdue her.

Strip her.

I want—need—to see the whole shivering mess of her laid out beneath me.

But that’s not how this game begins.

It’s how it ends.

She yelps in pain when I shove her up against the wall, my hand twisted in her silky, skimpy little top.

“Three. You forgotten how the Quiet Game works, Miss H?”

I give her a lingering, disdainful once-over. The tight black top, the too-short skirt. Thick makeup smeared by the rain.

“Cute outfit,” I spit out. “Sluts around here sure dress posh, don’t they?”

“I’m not playing this game.” Her voice is hard, but it shakes ever so slightly. Scared, but determined. Of course, either could be fake.

I hold up four fingers. She knows what happens when we get to ten, but she doesn’t seem to care. Perfectly on-brand for Haven.

“How’d your hair get so messy?” I croon. “Almost looks like someone had their hands in it.”

“Kai, stop!”

Five fingers, now. She glances at my hand, face scrunching up with annoyance.

“Does he like it when you wear this much makeup? Because I sure as fuck don’t.”

She glares at me, but says nothing.

If I hadn’t seen that look a million times, I’d have considered backing off. If I hadn’t been able to so easily shove down the part of my brain screaming at me to stop before I go too far, I might have been able to.

But Haven and I have been playing iterations of this game most of our lives. Crafting it, honing it, perfecting it.

Either I have a penchant for violence, or I’ve played the part of monster so many times, breaking her has simply become a habit.

I crowd closer, ducking my head just long enough to sniff the air beside her ear. Loud enough that I feel her cringing away.

“Don’t recognize this perfume,” I mutter. “He buy it for you?”