I try knocking again, harder this time, but the house remains silent.
Fuck this.
I circle around to the back, hopping over the garden gate without bothering to check if it’s unlocked. The back doorislocked but thankfully someone left the laundry window open. It’s a tight squeeze, but I’ve done more than my fair share of breaking and entering in my life.
The only way I ever got new shit back then was to take it from other people.
The house is empty. Too quiet. Like it’s holding its breath.
I head for the stairs anyway. I’ll just wait in her room until she gets back. Go through her shit. See if there’s anything else worth taking.
“Yo, anyone home?” I call out, not expecting an answer, but I’d rather not risk walking in on a girl in a towel and getting arrested for trespassing. This way I have plausible deniability.
A few of the wooden risers creak under my weight, one so loudly I nearly piss myself. I don’t know why I’m expecting someone to come barreling toward me with a gun or a knife. Maybe because I had one pointed at me yesterday morning. Maybe because I had one pointed at Haven just a few days earlier.
I make my way down the hall to Haven and Melissa’s room, scanning like I’m checking for ninja assassins. Their bedroom door is ajar, but I freeze on the threshold when I see what’s inside.
“Haven!”
She’s on the floor, sprawled face-down on the carpet like she collapsed mid-crawl.
For a second, I can’t breathe.
Can’t move.
Is she?—?
Then I see her back rise with a shallow breath.
Not dead. But more than just asleep.
Passed out on a Tuesday morning? Guess alcoholism runs in the family.
Relief crashes through me.
Immediately followed by something darker.
Something that whispers how vulnerable she is right now. How I could do anything I want to her, and she wouldn’t be able to stop me.
I step into the room, closing the door behind me, and go to kneel beside her. The smell of alcohol and something coppery hits my nose. Hair partially covers her face, but her eyes are closed, lips parted. There’s a pill bottle on the nightstand.
“Needed something to take off the edge, huh?” I mutter. “Guess that’s why you couldn’t be bothered to answer my texts.”
She’s limp as a rag doll, her head lolling to the side when I roll her onto her back. I brush the hair from her face, frowning at how different she looks. No scowl. No smart-ass smirk.
Almost peaceful.
Almost like the Haven I knew before.
My fingers trace the line of her jaw, down to her neck. Her pulse flutters beneath my touch when I wrap my fingers around her throat.
“So fucking defenseless,” I whisper, sliding my thumb across her bottom lip. Her mouth parts further at the pressure. “Must be nice to get high and just forget all your problems, Heavenly.”
I push my thumb into her mouth, pressing down on her tongue. She doesn’t resist, doesn’t bite. Just lies there, taking it.
My breath quickens, cock stirring in my jeans.
Thisis what I need.
