I try to stand, to run, but he puts a hand on my shoulder, holding me in place.
"Sit," he commands.
He holds the glass up to the candlelight, studying the sediment swirling in the red liquid.
"Triazolam," he states flatly.
He looks down at me, expression unreadable.
"I checked the inventory after we left the office,. The bottle was missing from your father's drawer. Did you think I wouldn't notice a theft in my own acquisition?"
My breath hitches. He knew. He knew the whole time. He let me play this out to watch me fail.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I protest, though my voice shakes.
"Don't lie to me," he snarls.
His hand shoots out, seizing my jaw. His fingers dig into my cheeks, forcing my lips to pucker as he tilts my head back, exposing my throat, trapping me against the back of the chair.
"You wanted me to drink this?" he asks, holding the glass inches from my face. "You wanted to put me to sleep? To escape?"
"Yes!" I cry out, the truth tearing its way out of my throat. "Yes! I want to leave! I hate you!"
"Hate is good," he whispers. "But deceit... deceit has consequences."
He lifts the glass to his own lips.
I watch in confusion. Is he going to drink it?
He tips his head back and takes the entire mouthful of wine, but he doesn't swallow.
I watch his throat.
His Adam's apple stays still. He holds the liquid in his mouth, his cheeks slightly puffed with the dark vintage.
He tosses the empty glass aside. It hits the floor and shatters into a thousand diamonds.
Before I can flinch, he grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks my head back over the top of the chair, stretching my neck, until I can only look up at the ceiling.
He lowers his face to mine.
I realize what he’s doing a second too late.
"No," I muffle, trying to twist away.
He crushes his mouth against mine.
It’s not a kiss. It’s a breach.
His lips are hard, demanding. He forces his tongue past my teeth, prying my jaw open with the sheer strength of his grip.
I struggle, I gasp, and that is my mistake.
My mouth opens.
He seals his lips tightly over mine, creating a watertight seal, and tilts his head forward.
The cold rush of the wine leaves his mouth and floods into mine, tasting of oak, blackberries, and the sharp, chemical bitterness of the pills.
