And it’s sure as fuck nowhere near ethical or moral. But I’ve never claimed to be any of those things.
I’ve always forced young minds to explore their tentative grasp on what they were brought up to believe is right and wrong. It leads to breakthroughs in rational thought.
And, sometimes, tragedy.
I go around the side of the country club’s main building to avoid inquisitive eyes.
Haven hasn’t said another word since her last outburst, but I’m not counting that as a win until I can assess her condition.
I need to get her somewhere safe. Somewhere warm. She’s shivering and jerking in my arms. Could be from the cold. Could be her body’s response to the mental shit show happening in her mind right now.
Drugged and out of her mind, dressed in nothing but a trash bag, Haven Lee is the most beautiful disaster I’ve ever seen.
Whatever happened in the forest wrecked the walls she’d so carefully erected inside her mind. Crude, but effective.
I needed her broken, vulnerable, and completely dependent on me. It would have taken me weeks, maybe even months, before she was pathetic, malleable, and depressed enough for me to swoop in.
When I’ve discovered who did this to her, I’ll send them flowers.
My Tesla unlocks as I walk up to it, making it easier to slide Haven in the passenger seat. Her wet body leaves streaks of body paint over the red leather interior, but warming her up is more important than my upholstery right now.
Getting her out of sight, even more so.
“Seatbelt,” I tell her, but she just stares blankly out the windshield, the only movement her erratic shudders. I gently pull the seatbelt over her, clipping it in and tugging it to make sure it’s secure.
This close, with the Tesla’s interior light beaming on her, I can see every inch of her. Hair plastered over her skull, paint streaking down her face, her neck, her entire naked body.
And Christ, her lip…
She flinches when I touch it with my thumb, but lets me draw it away from her teeth without protest.
“What have you done to yourself, Haven?”
I open the glove compartment and take out a stick of gum for her. I unwrap it and slip it into her mouth, my thumb lingering. The way she accepts my touch without question makes my cock stir.
She spits the gum out, but I push it back in again.
“Rather this than your lips, girl.”
I pause halfway inside the car, quickly pressing my finger to her throat just below the collar to feel her pulse. Her blown-out pupils are from the molly, but her slack expression is definitely from shock.
Haven’s pulse is racing. Her chest hitches with fast, sharp breaths. Thankfully, she’s not hyperventilating. But that could change in an instant if she’s triggered again.
…don’t make me come looking for you again, bitch…
As I’m closing the door, footsteps crunch over the gravel drive behind me.
“Leaving so soon, Bastian?”
I turn, closing the door so the interior light switches off, doing my fucking best not to slam it. Dean Winslow halts a few feet away, a mink stole draped over her elbows, an umbrella in one hand, her clutch in the other.
Her entire outfit is black. With her upturned nose and attempt at a regal stare, she reminds me a little too much of Morticia Addams. Especially with those dark crimson lips.
“Have a heap of assignments to grade this weekend,” I say, dragging a finger over my forehead as rain trickles down my face.
She nods, her eyes dropping to my chest, then my hands. “Are they at least behaving themselves out there?”
I glance down, my eyes sliding shut.
