I wish I couldn’t explain the sudden panic rushing through my veins like ice water…but I can.
Bad things happened in Rooke’s bedroom the last time we were in there.
Bad,badthings.
“They’re in his drawer,” Haven says, at least keeping her voice low. She gives me a small push. “Go fetch them, or I will.”
I give her a ‘fuck that’ laugh, my eyes flicking back to Rooke, who is now ignoring us entirely as he grinds the beans.
This feels like the start of a low budget horror movie. The one where all the characters are too dumb to live, yet one of them somehow outsmarts the villain in the end.
We won’t be that lucky, I don’t think.
“No. We’re going to let him make us coffee. We’re going to drink the coffee. And then we’re getting the fuck out of here without pissing him off.”
“So what if we?—”
I squish Haven’s lips together. “Shh!”
She mumbles against my fingers. When I widen my eyes in warning, she rolls her eyes at me.
“Could you two at least sit?” Rooke calls out over his shoulder. “All my restraints are packed away and out of reach, I promise.”
I think back to the black ribbons he handed me the night of the Rain Dance. The mask. The lines of coke I amateurishly tapped out onto Haven’s ass cheeks before we?—
I pull Haven down beside me, change my mind, and drag her onto my lap instead. He’s not getting his hands on her tonight. I’ll make sure of it.
She wriggles around in my lap until she finds a comfortable spot and then ducks down to murmur in my ear. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I’m fine.”
“Liar.”
“Takes one to know one.”
She snorts, leaning her head back against my shoulder. We sit in silence while Rooke makes coffee. The house is too quiet—no music, no TV, nothing but the hum of the refrigerator, the faint hiss from the fireplace, and the occasional clink from the kitchen.
“I can’t believe he was actually sleeping,” Haven murmurs.
“What were you expecting? Coke and hookers?”
“Yes.” She side-eyes me cautiously. “It’s weird, right? Like he’s…” She glances toward the kitchen, then lowers her voice even more. “He’s trying to change or something.”
I have to tighten my abs so my stomach will stop quivering. I don’t want to think about Rooke changing, because if he can change, then Haven might?—
Ha, ha—fuck that.
We’re not going down that road tonight.
Rooke returns with three mugs, setting them on the coffee table, and then disappears into his bedroom without a word. As soon as he’s out of sight, Haven sits forward in a rush, causing me to groan as her ass grinds against my dick.
“Fuck, Haven, what?—”
“Shh!”
She leans over the coffee table and rapidly shuffles the three mugs around like a street hustler running a shell game. Then she falls back against my chest, giggling silently just as Rooke reappears.
He’s put on a shirt, but the black tee stretches across his chest so tightly that it’s worse than when he was naked.
