Page 54 of Sinful

“Excited,” I said. “And…”

I was about to say more when a sudden wave of dizziness hit me, followed by a crashing wave of exhaustion. Panic surged in me, a cold knot tightening in my chest.

“I think…” I blinked rapidly, one hand clutching at the sofa cushion. “Sebastian… I think I’m getting sick.”

“Sick?” He slowly tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t feel good. I feel… so weak.” I tried to blink again, but my eyelids felt heavy, and they fluttered shut instead, seemingly incapable of staying open.

“That’s normal,” Sebastian said. His voice was different now. Colder. Detached.

I forced my eyes open again. “What do you mean?” I asked, barely able to get the words out.

He took a step closer, lips twisted in a strange smile. “Your people aren’t the only ones who can slip things into drinks, Rose.”

I tried to grasp his meaning, but with each passing second, coherent thought was slipping farther and farther out of my hands.

I tried to stand, but it felt like I still had the heeled shoes on, and I instantly wobbled, knees buckling as my legs and feet failed me. Sebastian caught me with one arm, roughly shoving me back onto the sofa. I was powerless to stop him, every muscle betraying me by refusing to work.

“I… don’t understand,” I said breathlessly, still struggling to keep my eyelids from closing again. The room seemed to be spinning around me, darkness closing in at the edges. “What did you do?”

“You’ll find out soon, baby girl.”

In a final effort to fight the encroaching darkness, I lurched forward to grab Sebastian, hoping the act of clinging to his jacket would force me to stay awake. He took a step back, and I grasped at thin air before falling backward, head lolling before it hit the cushion behind me.

With that, the darkness finally took me.

14

Rose

My eyelids fluttered open,and I grimaced as I became aware of a throbbing pain in my head. The ache was coupled with a strange sense of disorientation mixed with dread. Something had happened to me. But what? It was hard to parse my thoughts. I was so exhausted. So foggy.

The bright light above me hurt my eyes, and I squinted and opened my mouth to groan. It was bone dry, and there was a foul taste inside it. With great effort, I pushed myself up onto my elbows and looked around, blinking rapidly as I took in my surroundings.

I was in a large, cold room with walls made of gray stone, save for one wall of glass that exposed me to whoever—or whatever—was on the other side of it. I couldn’t tell, because it was dark beyond the glass.

I was on a narrow bed that lay against one wall, and there was a toilet and sink positioned over in the far corner. A tray of food and water sat on the floor near the glass wall, looking cold and unappetizing. Strangely, a large chalkboard hung on one of the stone walls, suggesting that I might be expected to spend some time writing in here. But wherewashere?

Panic surged through me as I tried to make sense of things, my mind racing with questions and fears. I couldn’t remember anything. Not my name, my age, my birthplace, my parents’ names… nothing. But I could still remember tothink.I knew my language and what every word meant. That was positive, at least. It meant my brain hadn’t been completely and utterly destroyed by whatever had happened to me.

So whathadhappened for me to end up in this state?

My stomach turned violently, and I sagged on the bed, forcing myself to concentrate despite the relentless thirst and violent pounding in my head. Everything slowly came back to me in drips—my identity, my life story, my recent activities.

Everything except one important thing: how on earth I ended up like this.

The very last thing I remembered was getting into Sebastian Thorne’s car and seeing a green sign with white text pointing the way to Montreal.

Yes.That was it! We must’ve made it to Montreal and enjoyed our night together, and I must’ve had a little too much fun trying out all sorts of outsider drinks. That would explain the pounding in my skull and the nausea bubbling up in my throat. It was the same way I felt the morning after having far too much wine at ritual festivities.

Wait.

That wasn’t entirely true. It was similar, but not the same. I’d never had so much wine that I fell unconscious somewhere and woke up with absolutely no memory of what had happened to me.

Something terrible has happened to you, Rose,whispered a little voice in the back of my mind. But what? Why?

I groaned and rubbed my eyes, pushing myself up onto my elbows again. An odd realization crept into my brain as I looked down at my legs. I was naked. I hadn’t even noticed until now.

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