Alaric tsks, a sound of mock disappointment. "We worked on your manners last night, Elodie. I expected better retention."
He pours a cup of coffee from a small carafe. He takes a sip, his eyes finally locking onto mine over the rim of the cup. He looks calm. Rested. In control. "I, on the other hand, sleptwonderfully. There is something very soothing about knowing exactly where you are."
He sets the cup down and moves to the side of the bed. "Let's get you up. You must be stiff."
"I can't feel my hands," I say, the confession slipping out before I can stop it.
"I know." He reaches for the knot on my left wrist. His fingers work the silk with practiced ease. "It’s the lack of movement. Circulation will return painfully, I’m afraid. Pins and needles."
The silk falls away. I instinctively yank my arm to my chest, cradling it. He was right. A rush of blood floods the limb, bringing with it a stinging, prickling sensation that makes me gasp. I rub my wrist, staring at the red marks that are already fading. No bruises. He was careful.
He moves to the other side and releases my right hand. I am free. For a split second, the reptilian part of my brain screams:Attack.The silver pen is on the table. The heavy crystal tumbler. I could grab it. I could strike him.
Alaric pauses. He doesn't move away. He stands right there, within striking distance, his hands hanging loosely by his sides. He is watching my pupils dilate. He knows exactly what I’m thinking. He’swaitingfor it.
He wants me to try,I realize with a jolt of cold terror.He wants the excuse to put me back down.
I let my hands drop to the mattress, exhaling a shaky breath. "Smart girl," he murmurs, a flicker of approval in his eyes.
He reaches out, and I flinch, but he simply pulls the duvet back. "Bathroom," he states. "Then breakfast."
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. My feet are bare, and when they touch the plush rug, my knees buckle. The sedative hasn't fully cleared my system, and my muscles are jelly. I pitch forward.
Alaric catches me. Of course he does. His arm bands around my waist, hard and unyielding like an iron bar wrapped in cashmere. He pulls me into him. My hands instinctively grab his biceps to steady myself. The muscle beneath the wool is rock hard. The heat of him seeps into my cold skin, confusing my senses.
"I’ve got you," he says. It’s not a comfort; it’s a fact.
"I can walk," I mutter, trying to push away.
"Clearly," he draws, sarcasm dripping from the word. He doesn't let go. instead, he bends down and scoops me up into his arms again, just like he did in the woods.
"Put me down!" I struggle weakly, kicking my legs. "I can walk to the bathroom myself!"
"You almost hit your head on the nightstand, Elodie. I am not having you concussed on your first morning." He carries me across the room effortlessly. I am five foot seven, not a child, but he holds me as if I weigh nothing.
He kicks open the door to the en-suite bathroom. It is a palace of marble and chrome. A massive soaking tub, a rainfall shower, and a vanity with a mirror that stretches to the ceiling. He sets me down on the closed lid of the toilet.
"Do your business," he says, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe.
I stare at him. "Get out."
He raises an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"I need privacy," I snap, pulling the oversized shirt down to cover my knees. "Leave."
"No." The word is flat. Final. "You are under suicide watch, Elodie. That means constant observation. I don't leave you alone with razors, glass, or lockable doors."
"I’m not going to kill myself!"
"You ran into a forest in a lightning storm without shoes. Your preservation instincts are compromised." He gestures to the toilet. "Go on. I’m a doctor. There is nothing you have that I haven't seen a thousand times."
Heat floods my face, turning my cheeks crimson. This is the tactic. Strip away the dignity. Remove the boundaries. Make me feel like an object, a patient, a child. If I pee in front of him, I lose another layer of myself.
"I can't," I whisper. "Not with you watching."
Alaric sighs, checking his platinum wristwatch. "Elodie, you have a full bladder. We can do this the easy way, where you pretend I’m a piece of furniture, or we can do this the hard way, where I insert a catheter. I have a kit in the cabinet."
He isn't bluffing. I can see it in the dead-serious set of his mouth. He would do it. He would strap me down and shove a tube into me just to prove he has the control.
