Page 56 of The Viper

“It’s my job to keep you safe, so yes.”

I let that sit for a moment. I look down and focus on my shoes sitting neatly next to each other close to where my dress lies draped over the back of a chair. “Wait, I think I remember Eliza wanted to dance, so we were on the dance floor.”

“Yes,” he confirms as he tears the towel off and dries himself.

Other than the full back piece, he has no other tattoos on his body. I drag my eyes over his torso drinking in every ripple and sculpted part of him. Although he’s a welcome distraction, I really can’t recall anything after us dancing. “My head is fuzzy. I just remember dancing.”

“A guy had his hands all over you.”

I scrunch my brows as I try to recollect, but my memory is hazy at best. “I don’t remember.”

“You pushed him off, then went to the bar.”

“I did?” I slowly lift my shoulders, not being able to confirm or deny what he’s saying. “I feel so hopeless, how can I not remember any of this?”

“Because of the drug he slipped you.”

I’ve never had my drink spiked before so I can only take his word on the effects. “What happened after I went to the bar?”

“I was upstairs and I saw him slip something in your drink. You went down virtually instantly. By the time I got down there, he was dragging you toward the door.”

“Dragging?” I swallow the lump in my throat while my heart hammers with force inside my chest. “Dragging?” I repeat, feeling so sick that I think I’m going to vomit.

“It looked like you had too much to drink and he was helping you out.”

“But he wasn’t helping me, he was going to...” my voice trails with the knowledge of what could’ve happened if Dominic wasn’t there.

“He got as far as the door, but we stopped him.”

I’m not sure how to react to the trauma considering I have no recollection of it. “I feel sick to my soul.” One hand covers my mouth while the other goes to my roiling stomach. I look toward Dominic, who’s now dressed. “What happened from there?”

He walks into the bathroom and returns with his gun which he places on the bedside table before joining me on the sofa. He pushes his dark, wet hair off his face, and it falls effortlessly back into the way it usually sits. “We brought you home.”

Something doesn’t add up. “I’m not an idiot, Dominic. How do I go from being lead out of the club to here? I couldn’t imagine that a man who takes the risk of spiking a person’s drink would just abandon the idea of whatever he intended to do.”

He cups my hands in his and squeezes them. “He needed some persuasion.”

“Can you define ‘persuasion’?”

“It’s best you don’t know,” his reply is instant.

“The bloody clothes?” I break out of his hold and point to the bathroom. “Did you hurt him?”

“Yes.” His jaw hardens as do his eyes.

I have a feeling I know what he did. That much blood on someone’s clothes means there’s been a serious injury. “Fatally?”

“Yes.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek while my brain attempts to process his candid replies. “You killed him.”

“Yes.”

At least he’s not attempting to hide the truth, or worse still, lie to me. “You killed him because he spiked my drink and he was going to...” I can’t even bring myself to say that horrid word.

“Yes.”

I know I should jump to my feet and flee right this moment, but I don’t hate the fact he killed him. Actually, my own inner darkness bares her teeth as she lowers a hand between her legs to satisfy her hunger. “How?” I whisper, desperate for the details.

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