Page 22 of Sweet Obsession

Where was I?

Misha’s scent clung to me, gunmetal, smoke, and cold earth.

It was threaded into my skin now. Into my breathing.

When the darkness tugged again, I didn’t fight it.

I woke slowly.

My body felt heavy, but my mind was clearer now.

Something flashed in my mind—Yuri’s hand tightening around my wrist, the sharp sting of a needle, his breath hot near my ear. I flinched, swallowing bile.

The fog of whatever Yuri slipped me was thinning, leaving behind a pounding headache and a sour taste in my mouth.

My hands flew to my dress—still intact. My skin prickled like something had been stolen from me while I slept. I hated that I didn’t know what.

I was lying on a massive bed in a dimly lit room. Dark velvet curtains hung from towering windows. The furniture was heavy, expensive, old-world.

Not mine. Not Gabriela’s. Not my father’s.

I sat up too fast. The world tilted.

“Take it slow,” a voice said.

I jerked toward the sound.

Misha Petrov stood across the room, arms folded, leaning against the wall like he had all the time in the world.

He watched me. Not kindly. Not cruelly.

Just... watched.

A heavy tumbler of water sat on the nightstand beside me. I snatched it up and drank like my throat was on fire.

Only when I set it down did I realize he hadn’t moved.

Still staring. Still silent.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, forcing myself to my feet.

Every muscle protested, but I stood anyway.

Because weakness wasn’t an option.

“Where am I?” I rasped.

“My wing,” he said simply.

The words hit like a punch.

His wing.

The part of the estate nobody talked about. The part even Papa’s men avoided after dark.

I crossed my arms over my chest, heart slamming painfully.

“You didn’t have to bring me here,” I said.