Page 45 of Depths of Desire
“I didn’t do anything,” Nico says as he carries me inside the house.
I want to fight him, to scream at him for lying to me, for drugging me, but I can’t focus. I sink deeper, my limbs becomingheavy. Now I’ll never get away, I think, before I give in to the darkness.
A sharp, acrid scent punches through the fog in my mind. I gag, choking on the bitterness as I lurch upright.
“What the hell?” I rasp, squinting against the blinding morning light. My head feels like it's packed with wet sand.
“You’re awake,” Nico says calmly, setting a small jar on the nightstand like this is all perfectly normal.
“Obviously,” I snap. “What the hell was that smell? Rotting skunk and regret?”
“It’s an herbal stimulant. It works.”
I rub my eyes, squinting around the unfamiliar room. And then it hits me.
This isn’t the guest room.
I look down and freeze.
I’m in nothing but my underwear, tangled in unfamiliar sheets. Panic claws up my spine. “What—what the hell is this? Did you undress me?”
“Yes,” Nico replies, maddeningly casual.
I glare at him, fury sparking even through the nausea. “Is this your room?”
“Yes.”
The word is a hammer, and my stomach flips. I shove the sheets off me and make a grab for the edge of the bed, but themoment I try to stand, the room spins like a carousel from hell. I pitch forward with a strangled sound, and Nico catches me before I face-plant.
“Easy,” he says, lowering me gently back to the mattress. “You’re still dehydrated. And probably running on fumes.”
I shove his hands away, but my limbs feel like they’re filled with concrete. “I can’t believe you drugged me.”
“I didn’t,” he says flatly. “You passed out. I told you; you are exhausted. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. You needed rest.”
I don’t buy it. “Right, immediately after taking the medication you offered me, I just fainted like a damsel in a gothic romance. Should I clutch my pearls next?”
“You’re not a damsel,” he mutters, a shadow of amusement in his voice. “But even the strongest bodies break under pressure. Yours has been under a lot.”
I open my mouth to argue again—but my tongue feels thick, dry. He sees it. Of course he does.
Without a word, he reaches over me, grabs a water bottle from the nightstand, and holds it out.
I hesitate, eying it suspiciously. He smirks and shakes the bottle in front of my nose. Before I can change my mind, I snatch it and take a long drink, the coolness soothing the burn in my throat.
I lower the bottle and glare at him over the rim. “Get out.”
Nico doesn’t move. Instead, he walks to the other side of the bed, peels off his shirt, and drops it to the floor. I stare, dumbfounded, as he kicks off his pants until he’s standing in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting into bed.”
“Are you insane?”
“I need sleep. And I’m not leaving you alone to sneak off while I’m out cold.”
“You don’t trust me?”
