36. Ava
AVA
F or a second I stared at the swirling wine laced with paralytic in Ty’s glass. Shit. I couldn’t believe I’d just done it.
I’d drugged his drink.
The pop of a cork going back into a wine stopper snapped me back into action.
As Ty turned, my glass in his hands, I leaned back, shoved the empty vial between the couch cushions, and opened up my book in my lap again, feigning innocence.
My heart jolted with terror, sure it was all over, at the sound of his footsteps returning.
But Ty placed the glass at my elbow and rearranged himself back where he’d been sitting, once again placing my feet back onto his lap.
“Well?” he asked.
My head was so muddled with terror and guilt that it took a second for me to realize he was talking about the wine he’d brought me .
“Oh. Yes. The wine. Thank you.”
I managed a smile even as I felt the moisture along my cupid’s bow.
When he reached for his glass of wine, I hardly dared to let out a breath. I was positive he would have been able to smell the drug I’d poured in there, the faint scent of strawberries.
Ty raised the glass to his lips and I almost cried out for him to stop.
I hated that I was still conflicted over taking my chance at escape. I was being disloyal to Ty, but my heart was being disloyal to me.
In the end it was Ciaran’s face in my mind that caused me to bite my lip, swallowing back the protests.
As Ty sipped his wine, I watched his throat bob as he swallowed, sure I could see the paralytic descending.
Did his eyebrows twitch toward each other, a slight frown drawing down the corners of his beautiful lips? Did he taste my treachery? The hint of strawberries in his wine?
Meeting Ty’s eyes, I searched for signs of anger and betrayal. But finding none was no consolation. I knew the godly level of self-control Ty exerted over himself.
I took a sip of my own wine, actually tasting it this time. It was lush and fruity. Please God, make it fruity enough to cover up the taste of strawberries.
Ty set aside his wine and returned to my feet, rubbing his thumbs on the pads and making me want to sink back into the cushions and groan.
And for a moment that’s what I did.
I peered at Ty over the edge of my book, watching his gaze drift to my feet as he worked his way up my arches .
Dammit. As heavenly as his focus felt, he was barely touching his wine. Just the occasional leisurely sip, like he had all the time in the world.
A flaw in my plan.
If he kept going at this pace, he could take all night to finish the glass. I needed him to drink more—and fast. But how?
My eyes dropped to my own untouched glass, a flicker of an idea sparking to life.
If he wouldn’t drink of his own accord, I’d just have to give him a reason.
“How about a game?” I said as I set aside my book, keeping my voice light.
Ty’s brow rose, curiosity glinting in his eyes. “A game?”
“Two Truths and a Lie,” I said, conjuring up the memories of playing this scandalous yet always hilarious drinking game at college parties, always with Lisa and Aisling and… Liath.
Her name hit me in the chest and my resolve hardened. I had to make Ty play, had to make him drink his damn wine. Had to get back to Darkmoor.
Ty tilted his head and hummed. “Not a game they taught us in prison. Explain the rules.”
I leaned forward, playing with the rim of my wine. “You say three statements, two true and one false. I have to guess the lie, and if I’m wrong, I drink. Then it’s my turn. And we keep going until one of us… can’t anymore.”
I raised my glass in a faux toast, trying not to look like I had ulterior motives.
Ty’s expression shifted thoughtfully, all cool detachment, his fingers paused on my feet. “This is hardly a frat party, Ava.”
I shrugged, pretending like I didn’t care if he didn’t play. “Okay. If you’re not game… Ciaran was always up for a bit of fun.”
I saw Ty flinch, caught the slight scowl before he straightened.
“All right,” he said, voice low, a competitive smirk playing at his lips. “Let’s play.”
My heart skipped. Yes , I fist-pumped internally. Nothing like pitting two brothers against each other.
Ty picked up his glass and tilted it toward me. “Ladies first.”
I hadn’t really thought through my own turn. I couldn’t let him make me drink too much. I couldn’t exactly escape properly if I was falling down drunk.
I’d always been a lightweight, but all these months as a captive with barely any alcohol had made me a two-drink drunk.
I needed to choose something I could reveal without giving away too much. I had to choose carefully so that he drank but I didn’t.
I swallowed and took a breath.
“Okay.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “I’ve climbed the roof of Darkmoor chapel. I got kicked out of a college club for pranking the dean. And… I love lilies.”
Ty’s smile was barely there, his eyes piercing me with that relentless intensity. The silence stretched between us.
“You didn’t get kicked out of any club,” he said finally. “The only one you ever joined was the Darkmoor Diaries . ”
I blinked, feeling a spark of irritation as he nailed it without flinching. How did he know that?
I frowned. Was Ciaran feeding him information in prison all those years? Or did he have someone else on the outside keeping tabs on me?
“Right. That’s… correct.” I took a drink, the sharpness of the wine sliding down my throat.
Not exactly according to plan, but it was fine. That would be the last sip he’d make me take.
I gestured for him to take his turn, hiding my nerves behind the glass.
He was quiet for a moment, considering, then spoke in that too-casual tone. “I can speak six languages. I hate heights. And I’ve killed a man with a teaspoon.”
I blinked, caught off guard, then squinted at him. “You don’t hate heights.”
His mouth quirked up in a low chuckle, the sound sending a strange shiver through me. “Actually, I do. I just don’t ever let it show.”
“Well, I know you don’t speak six lang—” I cut off, my mind catching on his last statement. “How the hell do you kill a man with a teaspoon?”
Ty smirked. “Maybe if you’re a good girl, I’ll show you.”
My face heated as I took a bigger sip this time, fighting the embarrassment creeping up.
“Okay,” I said, glancing at my glass, feeling the tipsy warmth spreading through me, loosening my tongue. “I’ve never stolen anything. I once stayed in the library overnight after hours… and I miss Ebony.”
Ty’s gaze softened, something deep and raw flashing in his eyes. “You never stayed in the library overnight. ”
My chest tightened, my mouth going dry. I blinked. He was right, though I’d thought I was careful.
I obeyed, the sharp edge of the wine a poor cover for the bitterness I felt.
The game went on, each turn loosening something in me. I wasn’t sure if it was the wine or the game or the way he kept looking at me, his gaze softening every time I got something right—or terribly wrong.
His stare was unrelenting, like he could reach into me, drag out every secret. And in a rush, I realized I was drifting closer to him, feeling the pull of his warmth, the presence that unnerved me.
I was slipping, forgetting the plan.
And somehow, we found ourselves seated cross-legged in front of each other, my leg burning where our knees were touching.
Ty’s breath was warm as he leaned close, his voice low and intimate, like he wanted every word to reach me. “I spent every night in prison dreaming about you. I planned your therapy for a year. And… I never wanted to hurt you.”
The words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning that I didn’t dare unpack.
“The lie,” I whispered, “is that you never wanted to hurt me.”
He didn’t answer right away, just held my gaze, his hand lingering on his glass.
“Drink,” he said finally, his voice dropping to a command.
“But—”
“I spent more than a year planning your therapy. ”
His casual confession of his utter obsession with me sent a shiver through me.
I was right to try and escape.
Ty would never let me go.
I lifted the glass to my lips and paused, realizing there was only one mouthful left. I let out a soft huff and tossed it back, warmth spreading through me as my head spun.
Well, that didn’t go as planned.
At least Ty had also almost finished his wine. Almost.
Jeez, when did it get so hot in here?
“I guess you win,” I said, setting the glass aside and crossing my arms.
“Have I?” he whispered.
His tone was so heavy with meaning, so achingly hopeful, it made my heart clench. He wasn’t just talking about a simple game.
He leaned in, his gaze trailing down to my mouth, growing hungry as if he wanted to kiss me.
I found myself leaning forward, drawn into him, my own gaze locking on his parted lips.
I wanted to kiss him.
No, that was stupid. I didn’t want to kiss my kidnapper. I was drunk. That was all.
He murmured, “Ava…”
His hand lifted toward me, fingers trembling as they reached for my face. But halfway there, his arm faltered and fell back to his lap, a flicker of confusion crossing his features.
I stilled, caught between exhilaration and dread as I watched him sway, the drug clearly taking hold.
His brows knit together, realization dawning as he struggled to lift his hand again, his expression hardening into something dark and accusing.
His voice was a low, dangerous growl, his tone sending chills down my spine.
“What have you done?”
Ty lunged for me and I screamed.