Rhys carefully measured out a teaspoon of the drug and pocketed the bottle inside his jacket before he brought the liquid to Kenna’s lips. He wished he could simply give her none of it but when he suggested it to Polly she cautioned him against that plan. She had no experience with anything but gradual withdrawal and she did not know what would happen. Polly had unwrapped Kenna’s hands as she had become less violent and they trembled now as Rhys brought the liquid to her lips. She grabbed his wrists to make certain he wouldn’t withdraw the spoon before she had licked every drop, then she fell back on the pillow and waited for the drift of sweet pleasure.
“You’re very kind to me, Rhys,” she said.
The spoon clattered to the floor. “Kenna!”
She smiled serenely and motioned him to sit beside her. “Mm. I like it better than Diana.”
He would have had to sit even if she hadn’t invited him. “You remember then?”
Kenna nodded. “Most everything. It’s like a dream. Still.” She touched the sleeve of his jacket and ran her hand across his forearm. “I’ve wronged you, Rhys.”
“Sh. Doesn’t matter. Not now.”
“It does.” She sat up and a rush of bittersweet pleasure made her dizzy. She held onto Rhys for support. “I’m fine, Rhys. Jus’ fine.”
Rhys drew her onto his lap and she relaxed against him. It was agony for him to hold her but he could not have set her aside if his life depended upon it.
Kenna’s hands stole inside Rhys’s open jacket and she felt his sharp intake of breath as her fingers massaged his back, then his chest. She nuzzled the curve of his shoulder sleepily, teasing the side of his face with the feather-light touch of her hair. “I like it when you hold me.”
“I like it, too.” He spoke against her hair.
Kenna lifted her face. “Kiss me, Rhys.”
“Kenna.” It was an uncertain warning at best.
Her pupils were widely dilated, making her eyes nearly black with only a slim ring of their dark chocolate color visible. “Kiss me.” Her mouth parted.
Rhys hesitated a moment longer then gave in to the desire he thought he saw in her eyes. He said her name again, but this time he surrendered to it. There was a faintly bitter taste to her lips and he realized it was the drug that had robbed her of the heady sweetness he was used to. His hands slipped to her sides, then cupped her breasts as he deepened the kiss. She accepted his touch with a disarming languor, moving sinuously against him, until his body tightened in response. It was Kenna who broke the kiss and teased his ear, his jaw, and the smooth plane of his cheeks with her mouth.
Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and slipped inside to touch his bare flesh. She ran her hand over the hard ridges of his flat belly and felt him suck in his breath. She pressed a siren’s smile into the curve of his neck then trailed kisses along his warm skin.
Kenna’s breasts filled Rhys’s hands and the tips hardened as he teased them with the pads of his thumbs. Her nightgown added a delicious friction to his teasing. The tiny moan of pleasure that parted her lips was swallowed by Rhys’s mouth.
Kenna’s hands clutched his sides as she felt the hard proof of his desire press against her thigh. Her movements became more frantic, exploring, touching, intent.
Caught up in Kenna’s seduction Rhys did not notice she had lifted the vial from his inside pocket until he saw it flash in her hand as she pushed him away and ran across the room.
In one corner of the chamber Kenna turned her back on Rhys and with frantic, desperate movements began trying to uncork the vial. She had just managed to loosen the cork when she felt Rhys’s hands on her elbows. She shrugged away from him and crouched in the corner, shoulders hunched and head bowed to protect herself from his interference.
“Go away!” she gritted between clenched teeth.
“Give me the bottle, Kenna.”
She didn’t waste effort on a reply as she tugged the cork free. Rhys’s arms surrounded her as she began lifting the bottle to her mouth. His fingers were painfully tight on her wrists. Kenna kicked backward, surprising Rhys as her heel connected with his shin, and his grip slackened slightly, enough for her to reach her lips with the tip of the bottle.
Rhys’s large hand closed over hers and with hard, implacable force pulled her arm behind her back, jerking it upward until she cried out. Her numbed fingers twitched, then flowered open. Rhys caught the bottle as it started to fall, holding it out of her reach when she turned on him, “Give it to me, Rhys!” she screamed, lunging for him. Although her nails had been clipped short she still managed to cut a furrow on his cheek when she clawed at him.
Rhys put his index finger over the narrow opening of the bottle to keep the contents from spilling while he pushed Kenna away with his other hand. She staggered backward, stiffened her shoulders as well as her resolve and came at him again. Rhys put the bottle behind his back and though Kenna tried to get at it from a dozen different angles she could not reach it.
What she had been able to do was maneuver Rhys against the wall and when he could move no further she dropped to her knees in front of him. “Please, Rhys. I beg you. Give it to me. I need it! Can’t you see I need it?”
What Rhys saw churned his gut. She was without pride, her soul ravaged by the craving of her body and mind. Everything she had done with him had been in aid of getting the drug. She had no thoughts of her brother or Victorine. She had not asked about Janet. All her concerns had disappeared save one and he held it behind his back.
“I cannot give it to you, Kenna.”
“You can!” She pounded once on the floor with her fists. “You can! I’ll do anything, Rhys! Anything!” Kenna lifted her hands and ran them over his thighs. She could feel the muscles in his legs grow taut beneath her palms. Her fingers dipped into the waistband of his trousers and she pulled herself up. She leaned into him, pressing the warm curves of her body against the unyielding planes and angles of his own.
Rhys would have had to be cut from stone in order not to feel something. And he was not cut from stone. Kenna moved against him with feline grace, her caresses intimate, and he lost control of his body’s response. She rolled her hips against his arousal, sliding her arms about Rhys’s neck so he could not push her away.
