Sandalwood, oud, and hydrogen peroxide.
It almost—but not quite—overpowers the blood. Then again, that scent has been on the periphery of my senses since I was sixteen years old. It would take a lobotomy to rid me of it.
My eyes keep flickering from the pouring rain to the cracks in the glass, and back again.
And my mind inevitably keeps returning to Sybil.
“It’s never going to stop, Billy,” I mumble, my eyes losing focus as puddles begin to form outside, black and endless in the unnatural twilight.
“Never, ever, ever.”
Chapter 46
Kai
“Kai. Kai!”
I surface groggy as fuck from a nap that, judging from the bedroom light shining into my eyes, looks like it nearly turned into an all-nighter.
Rain drums against the window, but that’s nothing new.
It’s been pissing down every day Saturday’s game.
I’d counted on the fact that Bobby’s arrival would mess her up so bad she just couldn’t anymore.
So imagine my fucking disappointment when she struts into AHC on Tuesday, shoulders back, chin up, like she’d physically walk over anyone who tried to stop her.
Meanwhile, I’d been feeling guilty for hooking Nora up with Bobby’s contact info. Not even sure why the hell I still had it, but I guess a part of me knew it would come in handy one day.
All that guilt evaporated as soon as Haven’s ass came through Rooke’s classroom door Tuesday.
Most fucked up of all?
Ishould’vebeen pissed.
So why the fuck a bolt of pride struck me is anyone’s guess.
Riversiders are as tough as rusty nails—and twice as nasty. Mess with us, and you’ll be limping for a week, and you’ll need to get a fucking tetanus shot.
Rooke kept eyeing Haven like she was a piece of meat, and I expected to see her simping after him. But she surprised meagain. No smoldering stares for our fucked-up professor, just frosty indifference.
And it looks like he finally got the message, because he left both of us alone, communicating with me via short, professional text messages and single-syllable instructions the whole week.
This week should have been a fucking cake walk.
But my brain’s so addicted to cortisol, it’ll throw anything on the fire to keep it going.
Like the video Haven kept begging me to send her.
How many times have I watched it this week?
How many times have I tried to delete it?
Too many.
Too. Fucking. Many.
And if that wasn’t enough, there’s Ezra.
