Survival ( Book 2: Stronger Series )

17. Admission

I raised my eyebrows in surprise at the vast amount of choices now laid out at my feet, and I didn't hesitate in case he decided to take them away.

"Shower," I said immediately. I needed to get this salt water off my skin before I became too itchy.

"Good choice," he said. And then he stopped and looked at me for a second. A grin slid across his face. "Wait here just one second."

My brows furrowed as he took off into the parlor. He was gone for only a few seconds but as I continued to shiver, my irritation grew. I wrapped my wet arms around my torso in a failed attempt to keep myself warm until Darren finally came back, holding two large shot glasses and a bottle of Jack Daniel's.

"How about a shot of Jack to warm you up?" He grinned.

I lifted one eyebrow at him, surprised he was offering me one of my favorite brands of whiskey, but then grew angry at the lack of towels I expected him to bring back.

"I thought you were bringing us some towels," I said with a grimace.

"You won't need a towel in a minute," he replied as he poured the whiskey into the glasses and handed me one.

I took the shot glass from him, and he set the bottle down on the glass coffee table next to us. I didn't even wait for him before I slugged the shot back, its strong liquid burning down my throat and warming me from the inside out. God, I needed that. I had wanted a drink since before I had been kidnapped.

Normally, I would never allow myself to get drunk around him. I needed to keep my guard up and always be ready; plus, I didn't want to reveal something that would potentially get me in trouble. But I could handle one shot. Or two.

Darren raised an eyebrow at me, surprised I wasn't so shy when it came to drinking.

"Sorry," I said. "I really needed that."

"I can see that," he said, and then threw his head back and drank his shot down. "Want another?"

"Sure," I said, eyeing him now. One more couldn't hurt. We both did another at the same time, and I set the glass down on the table, finished with my fit of drinking while the harsh liquor burned inside my stomach with the first shot. I was feeling better already.

"How about one more," he said taking my glass and filling it up a little more than he had the other two.

I gave him a suspicious look but threw my head back and emptied the contents down my throat. After three shots in a row, my throat and stomach were really starting to burn. That was enough for me.

"Last one," he said, pouring another.

"What are trying to do here, get me drunk?"

"What? You can't handle four shots of whiskey?" he challenged me.

"I know my limits, and I prefer to have a clear mind around you."

"So you can't then," he said, holding the glass out to me, waiting to see if I would take him up on his challenge. Motherfucking reverse psychology.

"Fine. As long as this is the last one," I said angrily and threw the shot back. It stung harshly on its way down this time. He smiled and finished his glass.

Leaving the glasses and bottle on the table, he took my hand and led me upstairs. I swear it was as if the man couldn't bear to let me walk anywhere without him tugging me along. His arm was my own personal leash.

As we got to the top of the stairs, Darren pulled me to the right instead of the left and we continued down the west wing of the house. I had assumed he would take us to my room, but it seemed he had something else in mind. I had a feeling he was taking us to his room.