Page 72 of Snitches and Serpents

My knees give out.

But before I can hit the hard stone porch, a pair of muscular arms wrap around my body. A pair of muscular, tattooed arms.

My vision is sliding in and out of focus, but I force myself to look up at my savior.

Tristan’s wicked smirk meets me.

Then darkness drags me under.

I groan as I wake up. My head pounds and nausea swirls inside me, so I keep my eyes closed for another few seconds. God, I’m never drinking again. I always get a little hungover, but this is on a whole other level. Ugh. Why did I drink so much last night?

Something prickles at the back of my mind.

Did I even drink a lot last night?

Blinking, I rub a hand over my eyes and then massage my temples.

A gray concrete roof stares back at me from above.

I pause with my hand next to my face as I frown up at the ceiling. Why is it gray? The ceiling in my dorm room is made of concrete, yes. But isn’t it supposed to be painted white? Or have I somehow lost my sense of?—

“Morning, sweetheart.”

I whip my head towards the sound.

That was a mistake because it makes my headache pulse with such intensity that I have to squeeze my eyes shut against the pain.

When I open them again, I’m met with a sight that I simply can’t make sense of.

The room around me is made of gray concrete. It’s fairly large, but there are no windows. As if it’s some kind of basement. There is a wooden door to my left, and another one a short distance from the bed that I’m currently lying on. Crisp white sheets cover the bed made of white wood, and there is a nightstand in the same material next to me. By the other wall is a desk and a chair. But the chair has been pulled out and turned around so that it’s facing the bed instead.

And on the chair sits a man.

Tristan.

His black hair has been swept back as if he has lazily dragged a hand through it after a shower, and his intense green eyes are locked on me. He is only wearing a pair of dark sweatpants. No shirt.

My heart starts pounding in my chest.

Sitting upright in a flash, I swing my legs off the bed and twist around.

The movement causes a metallic rattling sound to echo between the walls.

It startles me enough that I pause with my mouth halfway open and instead stare down at what produced the strange sound.

My mind goes blank.

Everything inside my head goes still and silent as I stare down at my right ankle. A manacle is locked around it. And there is a chain attached to the manacle.

Completely dumbfounded, I turn my head and follow that chain with my eyes. It has been looped around one of the steel beams at the back of the room and secured there with a padlock.

For a while, I can’t make sense of what I’m seeing, so I just keep staring at that chain.

“You really should be more careful,” Tristan suddenly says with a wicked smirk in his voice. “Otherwise, dangerous men could spike your drink.”

That snaps me out of my stupor.

I whip my head back around and stare at him with wide eyes. “You roofied me.”

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