“Alina, I—” he began, but a feminine voice floated in from deeper in the house.
“Raul? Could you come here for a moment?”
His spine stiffened.
“I’ll be there shortly,dearest one,” he called over his shoulder. Then, with a forceful shove, he guided me outside and slammed the door behind us. His grip squeezed my arm.
“Stop manhandling me!” I snapped, wrenching my arm free.
“You’re going to get me killed,” he hissed.
“You should’ve thought of thatbeforeyou shoved your cock inside me a few meters from your cozy little family home,” I said, teeth flashing.
He growled under his breath and yanked open the door to an outbuilding. Inside, rows upon rows of shelves held carefully labeled jars, glass glinting like jewels under dim light.
“Don’t touchanything,” he barked, storming past me. “Most of this will kill you if you even breathe near it.”
I pulled my hand back just before it brushed a jar.
Raul reached a shelf, grabbed a dark bottle, and swiped a cotton cloth over its label.
“Yes,” he muttered. His face darkened. “This is the one.”
He shoved the jar toward me but didn’t let go. “Open this and you’ll be the first to die. Keep it sealed until you’re ready to use it.”
My brow tightened. “How am I supposed to use itwithoutdying?”
He studied me for a moment. “Are you placing it inside a cell?”
I nodded.
“Is there a slot or an opening you can push it through?”
I nodded again.
“Then wear gloves. Slide it through. Don’t inhale. Don’t let ittouch your skin. Once inside, seal the cell completely—and leave the gloves in. The vapors will do the rest. Quick. Painless. Final.”
A delicious shiver rippled down my spine.
Balthazar would be thrilled. One whiff of this poison’s effectiveness, and all his rage would vanish like mist beneath a rising sun.
Raul handed me the jar, now carefully swaddled in cloth. His gaze burned—hungry, unapologetic.
“One more fuck before you go?” he asked, voice low and wicked.
Heat pulsed between my thighs. I placed the jar back on the shelf, cautious not to disturb the deadly contents. “Surely not here. Surrounded by poison?”
He smirked. “I have a study out back. Where I keep my drawings.”
He led me past rows of lethal concoctions into a shadowed room. No preamble. No pretense. He drove into me with brutal grace against the wall, one hand covering my mouth to catch my cries. It was raw, fast, filthy, and over too soon.
When he finished, he tucked himself back into his trousers with a nonchalant air, then strolled to a desk with neatly arranged illustrations.
“You can see yourself out,” he said, not sparing me a glance as he picked up a drawing. “Don’t touch anything but the jar I gave you. You won’t like the consequences.”
I sneered. “Where might I find lodging until I’m ready to return to Balthazar?”
I kept my voice light, revealing nothing of my time-traveling abilities or where I truly belonged.
