Page 534 of Lessons in Cruelty

Claw out his eyes.

Spit in his face.

Do. Fucking. Something.

But I do nothing. I just let him manhandle me, my teeth clamped closed, my entire body trembling with suppressed anger.

“He chose?” Rooke murmurs. The tip of his nose brushes mine, his warm, sweet breath washing over my mouth with every word. “And exactly which options did you give him, boy?”

“Me?” There’s a buzzing in my ears.

Rooke is too close again.

His body too warm. Too hard. Too insistent as he presses against me. I need to figure out the thing in Rooke’s words that’s not making sense, but my brain is too busy stopping my dick from getting hard.

I don’t want this.

I don’t want him.

I want Haven.

Always.

Forever.

My chest is hammering, my breath shortening against the press of his body, and I fucking hate that I can’t stop shaking. My brain is screaming at me to shove him off, but my legs won’t move.

I swallow hard, but saliva just keeps rushing back into my mouth. “He chose to stay.”

“You’re lying again,” Rooke murmurs, the tip of his nose sliding over my cheek as he moves his mouth to my ear. “You’ll have to learn how to hide your tells with that cop sniffing around, boy.”

A vicious pulse of blood hardens my dick even more when he licks the side of my ear, a delusional part of me responding to his dominance even when I’m sick to my stomach.

This is what Rooke does.

He makes you complicit in your own destruction.

“I’m not lying,” I mutter through clenched teeth, pulling my head out of reach. Rooke simply follows with a muted chuckle.

There’s a stinging pain when he nips my earlobe. I shove him away with a yell, and he rocks back on his heels, laughing, like this is all some fucking game, and he’s already winning.

Then he’s crowding against me again, one hand still on my throat, the other dragging my hoodie down my shoulder with his fist.

His dick presses against my leg. It’s even harder than mine.

“Sounds like you enjoy inflicting pain,” Rooke says, his eyes flicking down to my exposed shoulder. “Do you enjoy receiving it, too?”

Finally, my brain grinds out the answer to the puzzle it had been trying to solve.

My heart is banging against my chest, a solid wall of vomit building in my throat as I meet Rooke’s gaze. I have an inch on him, but he might as well be towering over me, that’s how powerless I feel right now.

“He told you I hurt him?” I whisper through numb lips.

“Even showed me the scars.” Rooke drags his bottom lip through his teeth, his eyes dropping to my mouth. “I was particularly fond of the one you left on his shoulder.”

“I…I never touched him.” My voice is so weak, I can barely hear myself. “It was…it was…”

But I can’t say it. I can’t fucking say it. Not even to defend myself.