And I didn’t want to stay in this horrid place any longer.
Screwing on the lid, I planted the vial full of thick red liquid in front of him. “All done. Can I go now?”
Lowering his arm, he stood to his full height and captured my eyes with his. “Drink it.”
My jaw fell open. “Drink it. What,now? When it’s still...warm?” I swallowed hard, fighting, fighting, fighting against the urge to be sick.
“I gave you some straight from the source last night. This is no different.”
“If you gave me some last night, why do I need more?” I swallowed hard. “I feel fine.”
“Liar. You’re wobbling all over the place. And I need you strong.”
“I’m fine.”
“Drink it,” he commanded coldly.
“No way.” I backed up, shaking my head. “I can’t.”
“Anyone else would gulp that back in a heartbeat—or sell it to the highest bidder.”
“Then keep it.” I eyed up the sink to toss it away, regardless of the waste. “I don’t—”
He stepped into me, caging me against the cupboard. “You already know it helps with whatever issues you have. You also already know it’s the only painkiller I can offer you.” Snatching it up, he forced it into my grip. “Drink it.”
“I’m good.” I tried to give it back. “Thanks, though.”
He slammed both hands on the cupboards, trapping me against his body. “What if I insist?”
I clutched the tiny bottle, flinching at his closeness. “I still won’t agree.”
His head tipped down, his forehead almost kissing mine. “What if I held you down and poured it down your throat?”
I tried to morph into the cupboard, his presence burning me alive. “Then you’d probably end up wearing it because I’d throw it all back up again.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth.
My heart stopped beating.
The moment stretched on and on andon, but then he finally nodded, pushed away, and stepped back wearily. “Fine.” He raked a hand through his thick hair. “I won’t force you because I know what that’s like.” His eyes snapped to mine, his face filling with harsh command. “But youwillkeep it on you at all times. If you become borderline catatonic, then you take it. Do you hear me?”
My heart translated his order as concern, all while common sense tried to keep me in- line. “What are you up to? Why do I get the feeling something’s wrong?”
He sucked in a breath as if fortifying himself. “Nothing’s wrong. Not yet anyway.”
“Does that mean something isgoingto be wrong?”
“Possibly. That’s why I can’t have you being a hindrance.”
“A hindrance?” I frowned, studying him. He seemed so different today and not just because he was dealing with the aftereffects of blood loss. He almost seemed resigned to something but also tightly wound as if going to battle. “I can’t do this anymore. What aren’t you telling me? What the hell is going on?”
He shot me a look and moved as steadily as he could toward the desk tucked on the office side of this strange hospital room. Without a word, he ducked, wrenched out the bottom drawer, and placed it on the tabletop. Angling it sideways, he ran his hand beneath it and gritted his teeth as he found whatever he was looking for.
The sound of tape ripping filled the room as he pulled off a small silk pouch from the underside and pocketed it.
I stepped toward him, my ears ringing thanks to rapidly building stress. “What’s that?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Leaving the drawer on the desk, he headed toward one of the filing cabinets. His gaze flashed to mine. “Didyou ever take that silver pill Whisper delivered to you that first night?”
