Sweet Temptation (The Sweet Trilogy #4)(11)

“Who are you?” I ask, just as I did when we first met.

She pauses. “I don’t know how you want me to answer that.” It’s almost like she feels bad about this. Then very suddenly, she gasps violently and her hands curl around the edge of the dock.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I think . . . It feels like it’s starting to wear off. But he said four hours!” She stands on shaking legs and begins to pace, hugging herself around the middle and hunching over.

It takes me a moment to realize she’s talking about the drug. She’s coming down from the high, but she seems almost panicked about it. I stand and block her exit down the dock so she can’t run. I need her to focus on me. Perhaps she’ll be more open while she’s still high.

I grasp her chin and lift her eyes to mine. We’ll start with Neph basics. We never get ill.

“Have you ever been sick?” I ask.

She holds herself tighter. “Sick . . . ?”

“The flu. Tonsillitis. Anything?”

Her eyes grow larger and for that second she stands a bit straighter as she stares at me. Then her body spasms and she bends at the waist, grabbing her knees. It seems as if she’s in true pain, but if it’s an act I will not play the fool.

“Maybe this little sweet will help you.” I hold up the pill Raj gave me, and Anna swipes for it, fast as a damn cheetah. But I’m quicker. Her eyes are flashing and eager with need. “Answer all of my questions first. Any illnesses in your lifetime?”

“N-no,” she stammers.

Good. We’re finally making progress.

“How far back can you remember?” I ask.

She stops shaking and stares up at me. Her mouth opens, then closes. She’s afraid to answer. I step closer, my heart beating uncharacteristically fast. I feel as if I’m on the edge of a discovery.

“Answer the question,” I say.

Her hands grip her sides and she drops her eyes as if embarrassed. “Fine. All the way back. My birth and even before that. Happy?”

I’m never happy, but I’m at least satisfied she’s finally admitting to her Neph traits. Our memories are vast and clear from the moment our souls entered our bodies.

“Now for the important part.” I step closer. “Who is your father?”

I’ve never seen a Duke’s badge of that color—dark yellow amber—and I definitely haven’t seen white—that’s an angelic color.

Her jaw quivers. “I-I don’t know. I was adopted.”

“Bollocks,” I say through gritted teeth. “You must have some idea.” I raise my arm so that my hand with the pill is above the water.

She gasps and raises her hands in horror as if I’m threatening to drop a baby.

“There was this one man . . . ,” she says. Finally, some bleedin’ answers. “I remember him from the day I was born. Jonathan LaGray . . . he’s in prison now.”

Holy shit. “Yes, of course.” I’d completely forgotten about the Duke in prison, as I’ve never met him. The Duke of Substance Abuse—addiction—hence Anna’s desire for more of the drug. “I should have guessed from your behavior tonight.”

She closes her eyes and I stare at her. She knows she is different. From the way she is shaking and battling this drug lust, I can only guess this isn’t something she deals with often. As if she’s never been trained. But of course, if her father’s been in prison . . . but wouldn’t he have gotten someone else to train her? Neph are taught to control themselves, not lose themselves to their sins this way.

Anna sticks out her hand. “My pill.” Her face is pale and drained. There’s no way I’m giving it to her. If her reaction is this bad coming down from the first pill, it will be worse after the second.

“You mean this one?” I ask. I know I’m cruel, but she comes across far too kind. I want to force her claws out. “Sorry, luv, just an aspirin,” I lie. I toss the pill into the water with a plunk.

“No!” She damn near dives in after the stupid pill, and I grab her by the arms. I need to calm her before she does something stupid.

“How long ago did he give you the pill?” I continue holding her tightly.

“What?” Her eyes dart around as she tries to focus. “I don’t know. Maybe thirty, no, forty minutes?”

“It should be out of your system very soon. You’ll be fine. Just sit here and try to calm yourself.”

When I let her go she sits obediently and grabs around her knees, burying her face and rocking back and forth stiffly. She looks tiny balled up like that, and her long, straight hair lifts and blows in the wind. A foreign tug of sympathy invades, and I look away from her.

I want to believe her, but I’m still wary. I don’t want to be entrapped by the mystery surrounding her. I can’t afford to care.

I sit down on the edge of the dock while she rides it out and sobers up.

After ten minutes she scoots closer to me, watching my face with a newfound carefulness. Her colors are back: gray and orange.

“Why did it come and go so fast?” she asks. I’m happy she’s worked up the nerve to open up and ask me something while she’s sober.

“Our bodies fight anything foreign. Germs, cancer, disease, the whole lot. Drugs and alcohol burn through quickly. Hardly worth the effort. I tried smoking. Spent days coughing up black tar.”