Page 9 of Widow's Walk

He cuts the ties from my ankles next, then comes to stand in front of me again. His eyes drop down to the damage, but his face betrays nothing. No guilt or sympathy.

“Try anything, and you’ll spend the next several days with your wrists and ankles bound.” He reaches into his pocket and produces two small white pills, offering them in an open palm as if serving them on a platter. “Take these,” he instructs blandly.

“What are they?”

“They’ll help you sleep.”

My eyes snap back to his. “You mean knock me into a comatose state,” I accuse.

His little half smirk is confirmation. “Your father advised sedation before transport. I declined.”

“Oh, how noble of you,” I sass.

“I thought so,” he muses, his levity maddening. “But I do see his reasoning now. You’ve made it very clear you cannot yet betrusted, and I’d like a good night of sleep.” I don’t move. “I will force them down your throat if it comes to it,” he warns.

“I don’t need to be sedated,” I try saying as evenly as possible. “I’ll…” I swallow hard. “Behave.”

His lips curve into a grin that would chill anyone to the bones, but that fervent heat is back. I detest the way he’s affecting me. “You’ll now have to earn my trust back.”

“Back?”

“I gave you the benefit of the doubt. You burned it to ash.”

My breath comes out of my nose in smoke. “I didn’t ask to be here.”

“And here you are.” He pauses. “So, what’s it going to be? Take these of your own freewill, or choke them down with my assistance?”

I jut my chin out. “I would love to see you try.”

His chin lowers with a dangerous gaze, an equal amount of delight in his amber eyes in the violence about to unfold. I should take the damn pills. But my fucking pride has always been louder than reason. Constantly in fight or flight mode.

So, I run.

He’s on me within seconds, arms cinching around my waist like steel bands. I strain all my overexerted muscles to try and twist my way out, but the more I writhe, the more his arms lock down. He’s over six feet tall with an athletic build butfuckhe’s strong as shit. Easily lifting my feet off the ground.

His breath is hot when he chuckles in my ear. “I figured you’d need coercion.”

I scream through my teeth in frustration. “Fuck you!”

Next thing I know, I’m slammed to the ground, flat on my back, his body over mine in one fluid motion. I flail about, and he repositions so that he’s kneeling on my arms. Just a few more inches and I can bite his dick off.

And I would…if I could move. The position he has me in is impossible to escape.

His smug grin is fucking infuriating as he gleams down at me in victory. “Open,” he demands coolly.

I lock my jaw, and his pompous grin fades.That’s rightmotherfucker. You willnotbe able to control me.

He pinches my nose shut, predictably so. Thinking I’ll eventually open my mouth to breathe. But I hunker down, ready to hold my breath for as long as I’m physically able to. I thrash my head in vain, trying to shake him off. I just need one breath to start this thing all over again.

But his grip tightens to the point of pain, until my eyes water and my head goes still in reaction. Giving him the chance to gain total and complete control. I’m feeling lightheaded, and my lungs are now panicking, screaming for air.

When my mouth pops open on reflex, he’s ready. With his hand clamping my jaw, he shoves the pills in deep, snapping my mouth shut with bone-jarring force.

“Swallow.” His voice is level as if there’s no exertion at all.

I throw daggers at him, fuming, mouth tightly sealed. He pinches my nose again. This time, harder. My lungs stutter. My vision clouds. My limbs burn.

The pill goes down a throat that refuses to let me die. I try to fight it, to will my body into rejection, but instinct is stronger. Reflex kicks in, and my throat contracts. My body betrays me, moving on autopilot, doing what it was designed to do. Swallowing against my will.

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