Page 8 of Snowed in with the Brutes
My focus shifts to Sinclair Jones, as if he commanded my attention without saying a word.My breath catches in my throat.I’m already under too much duress, and yet the sheer attractiveness of his face adds another layer of chaos to my thoughts.
While Flinn studies me with careful interest, Sinclair's bold analysis leaves me nowhere to hide.His dark blue eyes reel me in and then seduce all control from me.
His mouth spreads into a smile so striking I can’t breathe.It’s slow and a little lopsided, but there’s also a dare in the way his full, sensual lips curl.A taunt, but I don’t know what he wants from me.With his chiseled jaw and dark hair—longer than Flinn’s—that curls on his collar, he stands like a man who is always accustomed to getting what he wants.
I whip my gaze away from him.I don’t want to give him anything.I don’t want Flinn to coax my secrets out of me with just one glance either.
So I turn to Kian Saywell.
But the instant my attention shifts to him, and I hold it for a mere second, his thick-lashed, arctic green eyes dismiss me as if I’m unworthy of his regard.He gave me a flicker of attention before discarding me.But I can’t seem to wrench myself away from him.I’m equally mesmerized and terrified.His jet-black hair and impossibly tightly clenched jaw—everything about him seems set in cold marble—frighten me, yet I can’t look away.Yet he’s cast me aside without a thought.
Finally, my instinct for self-preservation kicks in, and I take the breath I had been holding the whole time.
This is real.This is happening.
Except I hadn’t prepared for them.I had a plan—a good one.The moment they chose me as the sacrifice, I knew I had to do something to help myself.Whatever it took.No holds barred.I was determined to resort to anything that would aid me.
And the only person who could help me?My mom’s oldest friend.Kamara was a chemist turned fortune teller.She also sold remedies in tiny vials for every ailment known to mankind from her dusty little store in the city.
She sent me back with three vials filled with a colorless liquid, free of charge, and with a guarantee they would work, or she couldn’t call herself Madame Kamara of the Earth anymore.
Did I consult an eccentric green-haired lady for a potion to save me from a horrible fate I had to endure to protect my family?I did.I put my trust in some herbs and a prayer.
And if it didn’t work, I was prepared to hit William Arlington over the head with a saucepan hard enough to give him amnesia for the next three days so he’d couldn’t question anything.
But these three men?What options do I have?I can’t fight them.I’d be crazy to even try.I can’t lace their drinks with the concoction Kamara gave me.They’re too big, too tall, too strong.And there are three of them.
One dose of the potion—as Kamara called it—a medley of flowers and salts and god knows what else, was enough to knock out a single average-sized man for one night.William Arlington was an average-sized man, and he was older.
I was meant to mix a vial into his drink.The result?It would put him to sleep immediately, and because of the aphrodisiac properties in some of the ingredients, he would wake up hungover, with flashes of memory that, despite being vague, would lead him to believe something happened between us.
It was so perfect.I would have escaped unscathed.These men, I could maybe knock them out for twenty-minutes if I were lucky.I’m never lucky.
Now I have nothing.Only my body.
Chapter Six
