Page 181 of The Harbinger

I lay for a moment, my heavy breaths heating my face until I rolled over and shimmied my nightgown down my hips.

Sacha stood with his eyes on the tea set, his brows furrowed.

“Do you want some?” I stood up, my knees wobbly, then poured him a cup of tea as he sat, his cum sticky between my legs.

He slouched in his chair, his fingers pulling at his tie. He looked worn out, and he should be. The long hours he kept weren’t natural for any human being, much less healthy.

His tie hung loose around his throat, his finger rubbing against his lower lip when I handed him his cup, then took my seat, my teacup pinched between two fingers. I brought it to my lips and then halted at his examination.

“It doesn’t smell the best, but—”

“Do you take me for a fool?” He dropped the teacup down onto the tray, and I reared back, my heart slamming into my chest at a million miles, my cooled tea sloshing all over my lap.

“Wha—”

Sacha’s curled lips fixed into a snarl. He launched himself at me, his fingers closing around my throat with bruising force. My chair tipped.

The world teetered, and a sharpthunkechoed through my head as my skull bounced against the floor. My vision swam, and black spots dotted the edge of my vision, but still, Sacha’s grip remained unyielding, choking off my air.

He moved seamlessly, settling beside me on his knees, his face twisted into a mask of malevolent satisfaction.

I groaned, my hands bracing my pounding skull.

“You think I wouldn’t notice?”

“I… think… I’m bleeding.” I pulled my hand in front of my face, his words barely registering in my scrambled brain. Crimson liquid dribbled down my fingertips, and I groaned again.

Sacha squeezed my throat tighter. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice,milaya? Did you think I was so inept? How could you, of all people, take me for a fool?”

“I…” The words stuck in my throat as if I had a mouth full of molasses. My eyelids drooped, threatening to pull me into a deep sleep. “Don’t know…”

“I don’t either.” He released my throat, bunched his hands around my arms, and yanked me from the floor, my head falling backward. “Did you think we’d drink our poisoned tea and die a poetic death? Do you hate me that much?”

My brows furrowed. I didn’t hate him; I’d wager everything I had on my feelings for him being the extreme opposite of hate. Daggers rushed to the edges of my brain as clarity took hold. “Poison?”

“The tea, Mia, Hemlock.” He tapped my cheek when he plopped me into his seat, my head spinning like a hamster on a wheel, the ground tilting beneath me.

“Hemlock?” I glanced up at him…two of him, and grimaced. I couldn’t even handle one of Sacha.

“Mia, focus.”

“My head.” I whimpered and touched my aching skull again.

“Is the least of your worries.” He tucked his hand into his pocket and dialed a number, issuing a command I wouldn’t understand even if I were clear-headed, then pocketed it.

“Did you drink any before I arrived?”

I shook my head and winced. “I heard a bang in the closet.”

“Who let you out of your room, and how did you find the Hemlock?”

“I walked downstairs. Hemlock? What’s—”

My bedroom door opened, and Dmitri walked in, his shoulders swaying, his boots hitting the floor with purpose.

Chapter 46

Sacha

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