Page 21 of Broken by my Bully (Lessons in Cruelty Dark Academia #1)

Haven

There are special moments in my life, little vignettes, that I drink in and save like a mental snapshot. So I can savor it later, or wallow a bit. Bastian made it sound like I don’t cling to the past, but he’s wrong.

The further I look back, the harder I push forward.

But that’s my secret.

No one else needs to know how fucking desperate I am to succeed.

That I think about it night and day.

That I’ve done things—will continue doing things—I’m not proud of to keep this fucking ball rolling.

A rolling stone gathers no moss.

And wrecking balls gotta have a ton of momentum.

I’m still not sure what kind of snapshot I’m taking right now. Whether I’ll pore over it and smile, or glare at it when I’m in a spiteful mood.

The air inside Bastian’s home smells like a pine forest just after the rain. Crisp, clean, earthy. It’s as if he bottled the smell inside hidden fragrance diffusers .

Inhaling it makes me feel more alive than I have in a while. Painfully, achingly so.

But with clarity comes, well, clarity.

I suddenly feel dirty. Poor. Dumb. And so out of my depth, I’m gonna need scuba gear, or I’ll drown.

The man who invited me inside notices, of course. He notices everything.

I’ve just entered his domain, and predators are most dangerous in their own territory.

The thought should make me leave. Instead, I can’t wait to step deeper inside. Although this house belongs to Professor Rooke, I’m seeing strong evidence of someone else.

Off campus, in here, he’s Bastian…and it shows.

The hard, geometric lines outside the building are drawn inside too. Angular furniture. A massive central fireplace connects the flat, featureless ceiling to the poured concrete floor. But so many textures soften those harsh edges.

A mottled fur throw slung haphazardly over the sleek couch.

Velvet scatter cushions.

The cream-colored fibers of a thick rug.

And that’s just the living area. There’s a large kitchen to one side, a black stone island declaring its border.

On the other side, the fireplace creates a second border. I don’t see any other doors, so I assume that’s for the sleeping area?

It’s giving eccentric billionaire bachelor vibes, and I’m so here for it.

Bastian was already inside by the time I reached the door. He’s in the kitchen, and I stand in the doorway watching him stride over to the gas range to flick on the burner. Moving effortlessly to one of the frosted-glass cabinets to retrieve two mugs.

He pauses, as if feeling my eyes on him. Turns, one hand still on the cabinet’s handle.

“Kai knows where I stay, Haven. If you go missing, he’ll be the first to know.”

I cough as if I swallowed a fly.

Yeah, Bastian. If I went missing, Kai would be dancing on my empty grave.

I shake off the thought and step inside Professor Rooke’s house. But I don’t get far.

“Shoes,” he says, not looking up from the stove.

It’s not a request. The casual authority in his voice makes something deep inside clench. I want to argue just to see what he’d do, but the pristine white carpet stops me.

“Good girl,” he murmurs when I comply, and I hate how those two words make me flush.

“Do me a favor and turn on that fireplace? It’s always so damn cold in here.”

Did he see me shiver?

I turn to the imposing wall of textured stone, throwing Bastian a panicked look.

“With the power of my mind?”

“There’s a control panel to the right. Just press the power button.”

I pad over to the fireplace, my entire body coming alive at the feel of the thick, fluffy carpet under my toes.

Even college professors are better off in this hellhole than Riversiders.

As much as I want to lean into that spiteful thought, I’m enjoying myself too much. Even trying to figure out the control panel Bastian directed me to is fun.

I stab experimentally at a button. There’s a whoosh beside me, and I hear Bastian chuckle from the kitchen as I fall on my ass, trying to get away from the sudden burst of flames.

Dramatic, sure, but I almost lost my fucking eyebrows.

Bastian’s chuckle from the kitchen is dark, amused. “Careful, Miss Lee. Wouldn’t want to add third-degree burns to your injuries.”

My lips tighten.

He’s like a dog with a fucking bone .

I’d forgotten about my bruises. Forgotten briefly about Kai.

Why is it so easy to live a lie when I’m around this man?

I stay seated on the carpet, holding my hands out to the flames as they flicker along the large gray pebbles placed just-so on the hearth. What the hell is burning in there? Gas?

Bastian is so quiet that I peek at him over my shoulder. He has his head down, staring into the pot on the stove.

I can’t help it. I’m curious as hell about this guy, and he’s basically set me loose in his little fiefdom. Who wouldn’t spy?

Standing, I wait to see if Bastian will notice before ambling innocently to the bookshelf beside one of the enormous wall-to-ceiling windows.

I don’t know if I want to stare at the view or browse his collection of leather-bound books, but I tell myself the forest will always be there, and doesn’t require a key and an invitation to view.

A minute later, I feel seventy-five times more inferior than I did when I first walked into Bastian’s house. The books on these dark shelves are dense. If Bastian’s gas ever got cut off, he could easily burn a handful of these babies for heat.

My eyes wander lower. The titles down there hint at philosophy, psychology, science. A lot of “Human” this and “Mind” that.

Then there’s this row of slim, almost invisible books right at the bottom. Dark spines. A collection of some kind. Fifty, maybe more.

I tug one out.

ACTIVI —

“Shouldn’t you wait until I’m in the other room before you start snooping?”

I shove the notebook back in its place. His voice is right behind me. Close enough that I feel his breath on my neck.

How did he move so quietly?

I spin around, giving my lips a quick lick. “I wasn’t?—“

His eyes drop to my mouth. “Liar.” The word is soft, almost affectionate. “Anything of interest?”

“No.” My voice comes out breathless.

Bastian hands me a scorching mug, his gaze switching to the bookshelf before settling back to me. I hurry over to the coffee table to set it down. A slab of glass over a polished wooden log that almost looks like a petrified wave.

Bastian sits on the two-seater sofa, swinging an arm around the back as he turns to lean into the corner. “You’re more than welcome to join me. Or you could sit in the kitchen, if you think I’m going to tie you to the radiator.”

“You can stop with the whole serial killer thing, all right?” I shake my head, smiling ruefully as I cradle my mug and take the seat next to him.

“Whoa, that escalated quickly.” He chuckles. “First I’m kidnapping you, now I’m making tacky lampshades with your skin? You kids watch too many crime shows.”

“Boomer.” I roll my eyes at him, blowing on my cocoa to cool it down. The clouds are growing darker outside, and I don’t want to miss another class.

Of course, I’d rather stay here all afternoon.

Because of the fireplace, of course. It’s started warming up the room. And I love the flicker of the flames, even while longing for the crackle of wood.

He widens his eyes. “You take that back, dearie. I’m barely thirty-four.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” I murmur into my cocoa before taking a tentative sip.

Bastian crooks an eyebrow when I splutter as the liquid hits my throat.

“Is there alcohol in this?” I wheeze.

“Not going to rat me out, are you? I thought Riversiders were notorious for not snitching.”

“I’m nineteen!” I squeak, in case that somehow slipped his notice.

“Pleasure to meet you, Nineteen. I’m Boomer.”

I stare at him .

When he laughs, so do I, because God, it’s so fucking easy.

“I know exactly how old you are, Haven.” His eyes darken. “I know a lot of things about you.”

As if he’s been studying me the way he studies cruelty.

I shiver despite the fire.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He takes another swallow from his mug, his brown eyes sparkling as they catch the firelight.

“A teacher is supposed to know things about their students.”

“That hasn’t really been my experience,” I mutter.

A cool breeze comes in from somewhere, and I draw my feet under me before I realize what I’m doing. As I go to drop them down again, Bastian holds out a hand to stop me.

“Please,” he says. “I’m a guy. Really think I’m going to care if you put your feet on the couch?”

I grin, shrugging a shoulder as I draw my feet under me again. Bastian takes another sip and then leans over, dragging the fur blanket over my legs.

“Better?” His hand lingers on the edge of the blanket, fingers barely grazing my thigh through the fabric.

I nod, unable to form words. The bourbon is making me warm, but it’s the way he’s looking at me that sets me on fire. I angle toward the fire, squirming my toes under the blanket as my body slowly starts warming up.

This is intoxicating as fuck, and I’m not sure it’s the bourbon to blame. I mean, I’ve had a few sips of beer. Some wine coolers. I even tasted some of my dad’s vodka once, because I wondered why he handled something that looked like water as if it was a precious commodity.

I was six, so I didn’t know water actually was precious, or that vodka was toxic.

Kai explained both to me.

He taught me a lot about the world. Some of it was bullshit.

…you don’t know what you don’t know …

When kids think they know something, even a little, suddenly, they’re wise.

He was the dreamer, Kai. He’d concoct the biggest load of bullshit as we played. I tried to get him to listen to reason, to ground him, but I guess at some stage even my five-year-old self realized he was trying to escape reality.

Me, on the other hand? I was trying to make sense of a world where the rules kept changing. Out there in the woods, we always stuck to the rules.

Our rules.

I wish I’d never left the woods.

Out there, we were untouchable.

Out there, we were loved.

Or maybe Kai taught me that pain and love were the same thing.

Bastian watches me over the rim of his mug, and I wonder who he sees.

Grant student Haven, the pluckiest gal ever to crawl out of Riverside’s gutters…

…or the girl who learned too young that love always leaves bruises.