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Drugging her was maybe on the immoral side of the line I tread daily, but it was the best way to get her away from the crowd. Any other woman would have followed me without question, but not her. I certainly can’t conduct an interrogation in the dorm; someone would call the cops at the first scream.
She’s not the first woman I’ve seen out of it—granted, the others took acid, molly, or coke voluntarily. I know she needs to drink. The dose I gave her was tiny; I was surprised she actually passed out for a whole two hours. I checked her vitals, so I know she’s fine, but she'll be better once she's had fluids, and food maybe.
In an ideal world I would have been able to call Magnus to properly assess her, but if I did, he’d take charge. That outcome is considerably more dangerous for her highness.
"It's just water." I bring the glass to my lips and take a sip to prove it. "See? Perfectly safe. Besides, no point drugging you now. You can't answer my questions if you're unconscious."
"I've already answered," she snaps back stubbornly. "I didn't do it."
This woman.
I look into her gorgeous honey-brown eyes, shadowed by those thick lashes. Part of me wishes I was the kind of guy who could just believe her, trust her, cup her face, kiss her and promise her I'd protect her.
The way I was raised, then trained, I don't just see her prettiness. Instead, I watch her pulse—too quick. Her irises can't bear the full weight of my stare. Then there's her dry, chapped lips that she bites nervously for the fourth time.
She's hiding something. I can tell. And she will tell me.
"Drink your water, your highness. You're thirsty."
"If you're so concerned for my wellbeing, let me go, and I'll drink at home."
Sassy little thing.
I smile, walking away from the armchair, and toward the nightstand next to my bed.
"You know, this used to be my bedroom," I inform her, conversationally as I open the first drawer, then the next.
I don’t come here often enough to remember where I keep all my toys.
"Before we moved into the old Rothfordmansionup the hill, that is. We kept this house—my grandmother uses it when she's in town."Which fortunately isn’t the case today.
I find what I'm looking for: my impact play toys. I hesitate, considering a paddle, but today’s not about nice, gentle little love taps. I’m here to make a point. Still, I dismiss a long, thin piece of smooth, polished wood, opting for a leather-braided riding crop instead.
I pull it out to show her what I found. Her eyes widen, and her mouth falls open.At least she knows what it is, and what it’s used for.
I take my time on my way back, running the tip of the crop along the wall.
"I don't have all my toys here,” I say with regret. “But I think I have enough to make you talk."
Her mouth stubbornly clamps shut, making it clear she intends to do no such thing.
Wrong instinct, your highness.
When I reach her, I take the glass of water and bring it to her lip again.
"Drink, Sarah."
Her eyes shoot daggers, but finally,finally, she does as she's told.
Good to know she can be rational after all.The fact that she has a sense of self-preservation helps.
The first sip is tentative, but when she recognizes it tastes of nothing but water, she goes for it. She's so thirsty, she empties the contents of the tumbler in three big gulps.
Someone ought to tell her there’s plenty of drugs and poisons that wouldn’t affect the taste. She should be more careful.
I set the empty glass back down on the low side table.
"Where were we? Ah. You were about to give me the videos, weren’t you?"
