Page 81 of Wretched Soul
Shade fixes the dressing, then leans over me. He tilts my chin to bring my gaze back to him. “Not with you. Never with you,” he says. He offers a weak smile. “Except maybe the part about accepting a drink that hasn’t been handed to you by bar staff.”
“Did I?” My brow furrows. It hurts to think, but a picture forms of four beer bottles being set down on the table. “I know what you’d said, but I remember now. I picked my bottle so it couldn’t have been spiked,” I say. And then realization hits. Tears prick my eyes and my mouth is desert dry. “Is that what happened?”
Shade strokes my cheek. “There was rohypnol in the beer. It’s why you can’t remember. The creep who gave it to you paid some random guy to keep Kaitlyn on the dance floor. She worked out something was wrong and, to use her words, she sent up the bat signal.”
I try to return his smile, but my chin wobbles. “And you came?”
“You were trapped in the booth with him, but he didn’t get the chance to do anything. I brought you home and a doctor checked you over.”
“I don’t remember coming home,” I tell him, trying not to freak out. I absorb Shade’s calmness. “What about Kaitlyn? Is she OK?”
“Simon took her home.”
My eyes bounce between his. “Heatrush Simon? Was he there?”
“He helped find you.”
I rub my temples as if I can kick start my brain into remembering.
“Your memory of last night isn’t going to come back, Lily,” Shade warns. “And you’re going to be confused for a few more hours. The doc will be back at midday to check on you again.”
“I’m sorry.”
He kisses my forehead. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
“But last night. I knew you’d be waiting for me, and I knew you couldn’t track me.”
“You were punishing me, Slayer. You told me not to invade your privacy, and then I did it anyway. I might not like what you did, but I get it.”
“Do you hate me?”
He tilts his head, and his gaze holds mine captive. “Do I look like I fucking hate you, Lily?”
My pulse rises. There’s desire and obsession in his green eyes, and something more profound. Or am I reading too much into his stare? Can I trust my befuddled brain to figure out what he’s trying to tell me?
Shade sits back. “It’s OK. Now isn’t the time for big conversations. Do you think you can sit up? You need to drink some water.”
As I try to pull myself up, my feet get tangled again. “What’s wrong? Why can’t I move?”
Shade lifts the covers and now my poor head spins. I’m fully clothed and my strappy sandals are snagged in the sheets.
“Kaitlyn didn’t come back with us,” he explains. “And given that you wouldn’t remember me bringing you home, I didn’t want you thinking I’d taken advantage of you. And to remove all doubt, I didn’t take any of your clothing off.”
“You’ve seen me naked, Shade,” I remind him.
“Only ever when it was your choice. You weren’t able to make choices last night.”
I roll my feet from side to side. “Well, I can make choices now. Can you take them off for me please?”
There’s a deep grumble from Shade’s chest, but he does as I ask. I slide up the bed and as I sip my water, he rubs where the straps of my sandals left marks on my feet. Despite my aching head, it feels really nice. We both stay silent, and when he glances up at me, he catches me biting my lip.
“Whatever those thoughts are, stop right there,” he warns. “Your body’s still working the drugs out of your system. I’m here to look after you. Nothing else.”
“That’s OK,” I’m forced to agree. “I feel gross. I could do with a shower.”
“If you’re steady enough on your feet, you can have a shower, but I have to watch.” His face is the picture of innocence. “I’m not leaving you alone, Slayer. Get used to it.”
It sounds distinctly like a threat, but I’m going to have to set that aside for this big conversation he says we need to have. I reach out a hand to him instead.
