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I hiss as it stings while he cleans them.

Sam walks off into the bedroom before returning with a vial. He hands it to me.

“Drink it,” he says, and I realize it is the same shimmering liquid he told me would rid me of my mark.

“What? This won’t work now. They have both marked me,” I tell him, and he shakes his head.

“It will work by muting the bond. They will still be able to feel you. But they won’t be able to find you,” he says, pushing it in my hand.

“Bottoms up. Oh, and you might want to have the tea ready. Apparently doesn’t taste very nice,” he says, handing me my tea. “Go on, Ada, the quicker, the better.”

I pull the little cork out before sniffing it. “So, it will just mute them from finding me?” I ask, and he nods.

“You don’t really want to go back home with those monsters, do you? After what they did?” he says before nodding to the vial.

I have alarm bells going off in my head. Something is still not quite right, yet what am I supposed to do in my situation? Sam is trained in combat and easily outweighs me. But something seriously feels off. I tip it to my lips, and he is right; it tastes like roadkill baked under the hot sun for days. I gag, and he clamps his hand over my mouth.

“Swallow it,” he says, and I shake my head, trying to spit it out.

“You will swallow it, Ada,” he says, his eyes staring at me firmly.

I shake my head when he nods to the tea. I move the tea to my lips, and he moves his hand, letting me swallow a mouthful to wash the disgusting taste down. Not that the tea is much better; it tastes like grass clippings.

“Good girl,” he says, brushing my cheek.

He walks off, and I stand to follow him.

“Make sure you drink your tea,” he says, nodding to the cup in my hand.

He waits for me to drink it, and I force the crap down before handing him the cup.

He walks into the bathroom, flicking the light on before running the bath. I watch when I suddenly get this strange rush rolling over my body, making me shiver. My head feels light, and the room dims and feels like it is pulsating. My body suddenly feels funny, and I lean on the sink basin for support.

“Sam!” I try to call to him, but the words sound terribly slurred.

“Shh, you’re okay, my love, just a mild sedative. It won’t hurt you,” he says, grabbing me just as I start falling forward.

“What?” I try, but not even I can understand what I am saying, my tongue feeling numb.

Sam sits me on the toilet before pulling my shirt off while I lean my head on the wall. My limbs are going numb. Yet my mind is completely alert. I just can’t feel my limbs. He pulls my pants off, and my vision becomes blurry as my eyes water, not liking the vulnerable position I am suddenly in.

“Shh, don’t cry. I will look after you. You’re mine, Ada. I will take good care of you,” he says, and for the first time in my life, I truly feel fear.

I am scared of him. He’s drugged me and brought me to the middle of nowhere. And I followed him, trusting him blindly.

Sam stands me up, my head falling forward onto his shoulder, before putting me in the tub. The water is hot, burning my cold skin. He turns the taps off before grabbing a face washer and lathering it in soap.

He washes me, every inch of me. His hands are fondling every part of me, and I can’t stop the tears from streaming down my cheeks as he bends down and sucks on my breast and neck, leaving hickeys all over my skin.

He then pulls the plug out, letting the water drain from the tub before hooking his arm under my legs and back before lifting me from the tub. He lifts me upright before placing me on my feet, my legs giving way instantly. His grip on me is the only thing keeping me upright as I am forced to lean against him.

Cyrus’s words come back to me, screaming in my head that I don’t know him, truly know him, and he is right. This is not the Sam I know. No, this man is a stranger to me. Sam dries me before carrying me into the bedroom and placing me in a chair before brushing my hair and braiding it. His fingers moving through my hair make goosebumps rise on my arms. He has to keep lifting my head as it would fall forward, making me look at my lap.

When he is done, he places me in bed naked before pulling the blankets up and tucking me in like a child.

“Go to sleep, Ada. I will be back soon,” he says, kissing my lips, his tongue moving in my mouth as he forces it open with his thumb on my chin.

I internally cringe at the feeling when he suddenly lets go, looking down at me.