60. Bastian
Chapter 60
Bastian
Thank fuck I’m sober, that I was waiting to get to the Rain Dance before snorting a line. This is a delicate situation, and being high right now would have left me at a significant disadvantage.
he must have it
I can think of only one person who would padlock a collar around Haven’s throat—the person she bit like a rabid dog.
But I’m not seeking him out. Not now. I might be sober, but I’m angry as all hell.
I go around the side of the country club’s main building, trying to avoid any inquisitive eyes. Haven needs to be somewhere safe. Somewhere warm. She’s shivering against me, and God only knows how long she’s been out in the rain wearing nothing but a?—
Fucking trash bag.
And here I was telling Kai to make sure no one ODd this year. Forgot about the rain. The cold.
I’m shivering, and I’m not half as soaked as Haven.
I shouldn’t be surprised Haven was at the Rain Dance—placing her in the GAZ sorority exposed her to Greek party culture, and Haven seems eager to make the most out of her college experience.
Warning her probably wouldn’t even have helped.
My Tesla unlocks when I walk up to it, making it easier to slide Haven in the passenger seat. I grimace as her wet body leaves streaks of body paint over the red leather interior, but warming her up is more important right now.
“Seatbelt,” I tell her, but she just starts looking around my car like she climbed into an alien spacecraft. I wrestle the seatbelt over her, clipping it in and yanking it to make sure it’s secure.
This close, with the Tesla’s interior light beaming on her, Haven’s a bigger mess than I thought. Hair plastered over her skull, paint running down her face, her throat, her entire body.
And Christ, her lip…
She flinches when I touch it with my thumb, but lets me gently draw it away from her teeth without protest.
“What did you do?” I whisper, opening the glove compartment and taking out a stick of gum for her. It’s ancient, from when I was still smoking cigarettes, but it’ll have to do.
I unwrap it and slip it into her mouth. She makes a face and tries to spit it out, but I push it back in again.
“Rather this than your lips.”
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. Dean Winslow halts a few feet away, a mink stole draped over her elbows, a black 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 Adams. 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 behaving themselves out there?”
I glance down, my eyes sliding shut.
There’s body paint all over the front of my damp tux. My hands are coated in it. If there was a UV light around, I’d be lighting up the dark like fucking Chernobyl.
“I’m sure it’ll get rained out soon.”
“Here’s hoping,” she says primly. “This was supposed to be a private affair for the Greeks so they can blow off some steam before midterms.”
“Give these children a finger and they take the whole damn hand,” I say with a chuckle.
Her upturned nose lifts a quarter inch as she gives me another interrogatory scan. “If you weren’t so wet and…bright, I’d offer you a nightcap.”
I wipe the rain off my forehead again. “And I’d have accepted, but unfortunately, I wasn’t joking about those assignments, Yolanda.”
“Yes, well, off you go then.” She glances up at the sky with obvious distaste. “And be careful. Everything’s going to be slippery for a while.”
I roll my lips together, nod. She gives me a frown and struts over to her black Mercedes S-Class a few yards away. I watch her go, giving her a wave when she turns to climb behind the wheel.
Her headlamps illuminate me and the curtain of rain falling between us. I have no idea if she can see Haven in the passenger seat, but if she can, she doesn’t stop to say anything.
“Trouble from the fucking word go,” I mutter as I slide into the driver’s seat. “You make me wish corporal punishment was still a thing.”
Haven rolls her head against the headrest to look at me.
“Hiiii,” she coos.
There’s body paint all over the edges of the seat where she’s been rubbing her hands over the red leather.
“Could you not do that?”
“Okay,” she says, giving me a lopsided smile.
Her hands don’t even pause.
Goddamn molly.
“Okay, girl, let’s get you the fuck out of here before someone thinks I’m abducting you.”
She laughs. “You are.” And then, as if she remembers why the hell I’m in her car in the first place, she lifts a hand to her throat, aiming for the collar.
I grab her wrist. “You’re safe now, Haven. We’re going to the hospital, we’re going to get that thing cut off, and you’ll be fine.”
“Hospital!” Her big, black eyes widen even more. It’s hard to tell they’re even blue. “Fuck. I knew I was dying.”
Christ.
I smooth a hand down her cheek, grimacing when I get more paint on my hands. “You’re not dying, you’re just fucked. I’ll take care of you.”
“Yes.” She nods fervently, seizing my hand, wreathing our fingers together. “Yes. Please.” Her jaw clenches, her eyelashes fluttering as a shiver races through her body.
“You need to let go of my hand so I can drive.”
“Okay.” She drops her arm, her fingers still clinging to mine, and turns to stare out the window. “Where are we?”
I grit my teeth, switching on the Tesla’s engine and accelerating down the road. Guess she can keep my hand for now. Not like there’s a gear shift or anything I need it for.
When I leave the country club, I turn to town, aiming for the local hospital. Despite Haven’s misgivings, it’s the best place for her now. They’ll be able to sedate her, keep her calm, and remove that collar.
But that was before she began squirming around in the passenger seat. Arching her back. Pulling her muddy feet under her. Before she rocked forward, bending over my hand and examining it in excruciating detail.
Her touch so delicate.
Her breath so warm on my chilled flesh.
The way she traces the lines over my palm?—
I do a u-turn at the next intersection, the sudden change in direction making her look up at the road. She turns and gives me a wide, heartbreakingly happy smile.
“I can read your future,” she says, openly studying my face.
“Yeah?” I shift in my seat, swallowing as my cock stirs behind my tuxedo pants. “What’s it say, girl?”
“Mmm…” She ducks down over my hand again, tracing one of the lines.
I hear a siren. My heart kicks into overdrive as I glance at the rearview mirror. But it’s an ambulance, not a police car.
Thank fuck.
I veer to the side. The ambulance screams past us, lights flashing and siren wailing.
Haven looks up in panic. “Hospital?”
“No, sweet girl. You’re safe. Tell me about my future.” I push the back of my hand into her lap, trying to distract her. Her trash bag dress rustles and sticks to my skin until she scoops my hand into both of hers so she can study it closer.
“Mmm, yeah. I see it.” She starts tracing my skin again, and I bite the inside of my lip at that soft touch.
It’s almost midnight, Agony Hollow’s roads are deserted. In the far distance, headlamps light up the road, heading back the way we came.
I’m praying they don’t look inside my car.
“Five kids. A nice house. And a beautiful wife.” She rolls that word—beeeooootiful—and then giggles.
“Already got the nice house,” I tell her as we turn onto Earl Avenue and begin ascending into the hills. “But tell me more about this beautiful wife.”