“What do you have that can knock someone out for a few hours?”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
REFLECTION IN AMBER EYES
When I heard Weston’s door shut across the hall, I poured the potion onto my hand. The woman had explained that all I needed to do was rub the liquid anywhere on his skin. It couldn’t be too difficult, considering he was always manhandling me. I would just have to turn the tables around.
The woman had assured me that it wouldn’t affect me and only the target. But after dealing with the tricky Sylvian women, I waited while the pink liquid soaked into my hand. It dissolved as soon as I had poured it.
After three minutes of anxiously pacing, I was still awake, so I assumed she was telling me the truth. My heart beat quicker the longer I waited, so without a plan, I jumped up and headed to his room. I flung open his door and walked in, my heartbeat thudding.
His gaze found me, his lips pulling into a frown. “What’s wrong?”
He was shirtless. Perfect. For my plan. No other reason.
I put my hand on my chest and took in big gulps of air. When I began to “faint,” he caught me.
Thank Alyria he fell for it, or I would have hit the floor.
I rested my hand on his chest and tried to slide it inconspicuously up and around his shoulder. But I was supposed to be passed out so, obviously that gave me away. I was in the air for a moment, before I landed on the bed, almost bouncing off it.
His eyes glittered with amusement. “You think a mere potion has any effect on me?”
My hair had fallen in my face, and I pushed it away with a frustrated shove. This was my life he was messing with, and he was amused? I felt my cheeks heat from my anger. I hopped off the bed and shoved him.
“You can’t just throw me around!” I shouted. He didn’t even take a step back from my shove, and that made my blood grow hotter. I wasn’t satisfied, so I went to push him again, but he grabbed my wrist and jerked me away. I stumbled back while I thought definitely not a gentleman.
He laughed. “Definitely not a lady. What potion did you think to use on me?” He asked it as if it were a normal conversation for him. Probably was. I couldn’t have been the first person he kidnapped; he was just too tranquil about it.
I glared at him. “None of your business. If you would just let me go, I wouldn’t have had to use one on you!”
“No.” That was his answer. No excuses. Just no.
“Then watch your back, because I will find something that works on you,” I promised with heat.
“I could find you anywhere you could go,” he said indifferently.
“Not if you are dead,” I taunted.
He laughed coldly.
“Besides, I think you lie to intimidate me.”
My heart leaped out of my chest when he lunged at me. I jumped back, but he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me in, grabbing a fistful of my hair. I couldn’t move my head without pulling strands out, so I only glared daggers at him.
I hated how I could do nothing to fight him. How I felt trapped, weak, and useless.
There was a small part of me that I disliked. For being so damn weak. But that wasn’t the part of me I hated the most; no, that was the part that relished being trapped. The part that wanted him to show me how much more strength he had than me. A part that wanted him to prove he could do anything to me and I couldn’t stop him. A primal part. And a sick part.
I pushed it out of my head with a frustrated shove.
I couldn’t control the shiver that ran down my spine when he pressed his face into my hair. I felt him inhale deeply and then I stumbled back as he pushed me away.
“Just refreshing your scent. I can find it anywhere. Fucking try me.”
* * *
The next morning, I got up and walked into the woman’s shop. It was early, but I wasn’t surprised to find the woman standing behind the counter. There was something . . . strange about her. She must have noticed my defeated look because she frowned.