unwillingly opened for him. Water gushed into my mouth and up my nose.
“I warned you,” he said as I choked and spluttered.
After a moment, he let me up and held out the half-empty glass.
“This will be the last time I offer you a chance to keep your independence. Choose wisely.”
Impotent rage boiled in my veins. We both knew he was strong enough to force me to drink. He’d just proven that. He’d also just proved he wasn’t afraid to use that force on me. The fey were supposed to be nice and cater to anything with boobs. Merdon wasn’t following the rules I knew. He had his own set, and that meant I needed to tread carefully. Anything was possible with him.
I glared at him, cheeks aching, then grabbed the glass from his hand.
“All of it,” he warned lowly. “Not a drop spilled.”
I took my sweet ass time drinking it, like a normal person. We glared at each other the whole time. When I finally drained what was left of that glass, he handed me the second one. The need to throw the empty one at his head rode me hard.
“I see what’s inside you,” he said, his expression shifting ever so subtly again.
It felt like he was laughing at me, which only made me grip the empty glass tighter as I glared at him.
“Have you reconsidered? Do you want me to help you?”
His tone remained the same, but I knew he was taunting me, not just with his words but his change in subject. What did he see inside of me? He was goading me to speak. I knew it.
Extending my hand with the empty cup, I waited until he moved to reach for it before opening my hand, mic-drop style. He moved with speed, catching the glass easily before it could shatter on the carpet. I had him just where I wanted him. While he was crouched in front of me, I shifted my weight back, planted both feet on his shoulders, and heaved with all my might.
He fell onto his ass with a satisfying thump.
Instead of looking pissed about it, he slowly stood and tilted his head at me. It was a gesture I’d seen countless times on other fey when they were clueless about something. Merdon didn’t look clueless. He looked dangerous, and his next two words proved it.
“You spilled.”
I looked down at my shirt, where barely a dribble wet the material, then back up at him. Anticipation lit his gaze and sent a jolt of panic through me. With his warning ringing in my ears, I quickly lifted the glass to my lips and slammed the contents.
“Good.” This time, he held out his hand. “Should we try this again?”
He was daring me to repeat my trick.
Hell, no. I wasn’t stupid. But I also didn’t want him to think he’d won this contest of wills by meekly handing the glass to him like a trained monkey. More importantly, I didn’t want him thinking I was afraid of him.
I stood, coming almost toe to toe with him because he’d been so close to my bed. He didn’t step back, but then, I hadn’t expected him to. Holding his gaze, I tossed the glass onto the far side of my bed.
He glanced at the cup then at my face. The moment he moved, so did I. He went for the glass, and I bolted for the door. He caught me before I laid a single hand on it.
Spinning me around, he slammed my back against the wood. One hand, pressed just at the base of my throat, pinned me in place. I could feel his thumb against my collarbone.
He lifted the glass he held in the other hand as if I needed proof of how fast he could be. My move hadn’t been about me escaping although I would have if he’d tripped on his face or something. It had been about proving I wasn’t afraid of him.
And that was my biggest mistake.
He leaned in close and growled low, right in my face.
“Hannah, I see what’s inside of you, and you’re already using it.”
Before I could ask what that meant, he had me over his shoulder. This time, I fought him as he strode to the bathroom. Breaking my silence, I called him every hateful name I could think of just before he plopped me down and cold water blasted my back.
He once again resumed his leaning position outside of the glass door.