Descent (Black Heart Romance)

“Wow,” I say, since I can’t think to say a single thing else.

He cocks an eyebrow and reaches over to set a drink down in front of me.

I hadn’t noticed he was carrying two.

I can’t believe he thinks I’ll drink something he brought me.

I can’t believe him, period.

“You seemed thirsty,” he remarks.

“I would happily die of dehydration before drinking anything you handed me.”

Apparently unconcerned, he leans back in his stolen chair, spreads his thighs to indicate he plans to stay for a while, and takes a leisurely drink from his glass. “We can trade if you’re worried I drugged it. I didn’t,” he adds.

“Oh, well, as long as you say so, then obviously I believe you.”

“Drugging you wouldn’t do anything for me. It’s the struggle I enjoy. You can’t very well struggle if you’re passed out, now, can you?”

His words ignite fury deep in my core, heating my blood and bringing a rush of color to my cheeks. “Have you any decency at all?” I demand, glancing around to make sure no one heard him.

“None,” he says flatly, then smiles.

“Self-preservation, then,” I snap, my gaze sliding back to his. “You got what you wanted, now leave me alone.”

“Mm.” His gaze rakes over me, an almost possessive glint in the stormy depths of his eyes. “See, that’s the problem. It should’ve been that simple. I don’t know why it wasn’t. All I do know is you’re all I could think about long after you left last night, and I wanted to see you again.”

I don’t know how to respond to that. If he were anyone else, I would do the polite thing and say thank you. It sounds enough like a compliment, if a truly twisted one.

After I violated you last night, I really wanted to do it again, so here I am.

What a prince.

I try to swallow past a lump in my throat, but my mouth is too dry. I nearly reach for the drink, but then I remember it was hand-delivered by Satan himself and stop short. “Should I be flattered?” I mutter, giving up on eating and crossing my arms instead.

Calvin leans forward, grabs my glass, and takes a drink to show me he didn’t tamper with it. “Feel however you want to feel,” he says, so close I can feel his breath on my bare shoulder blade. “You’re entitled to that.”

“I’m still not going to drink it,” I tell him.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t trust you,” I state.

He shakes his head, but doesn’t look too put out. “You’ve got it all wrong, sweetheart. It’s the slimy men who pretend to be nice guys you have to worry about slipping something in your drink. I’m not a nice guy, but I’ve been honest with you right from the start. I also have considerably more resources than a fucking frat boy. If I wanted you passed out in my bed, I’d hire men to stick you with a syringe and carefully transport you there while you were knocked out. I’d have a nice bath drawn for you when you wake up, a short, sexy little scrap of fabric to cover that beautiful body in, and once you were fully awake and able to participate, that’s when I would fuck you.”

I don’t know how he can say such psychotic things so comfortably. Heat creeps up my neck and I look around, still self-conscious about anyone overhearing. He’s the one who should be ashamed, but if anyone heard what he just said, I would be horrified.

Luckily, we’re far enough away that no one can hear us. With the rest of the bridal party out on the dance floor, we have a lot of privacy up here.

Well, I guess that isn’t really lucky, but depraved as he may be, it’s not like he’ll maul me with an audience.

I don’t think.

Looking directly at him feels too daunting, but I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. “Do you know men you could hire to syringe me and transport me to your home?”

“I do. And I have a flair for the dramatic, so I assure you if that’s what I wanted, I would do it that way, not by quietly dropping something in your drink at a wedding. Not my style.”

More than anything else he has said, that rings true. And I am thirsty, so I grab the glass of orange and yellow liquid and take a small sip.

My taste buds dance with delight. It’s sweeter than I expected. I thought he would bring me something strong, but he went for something I would like the taste of instead.

He’s an intriguing man. Terrible, awful, and no-good, but intriguing.

Once I’ve swallowed the yummy drink, I finally summon the courage to look him directly in the eye. “There. I had a drink. Now will you go away?”