I climbed back under the covers, arranged myself into the boneless sprawl of a woman who’d lost her fight with the drug, and let my eyes fall to slits.

The suite door clicked open perhaps a minute later.

Flynn crossed to the bed and sat on its edge, and his hand came to my cheek, warm and gentle, and it took everything I had left not to flinch out of my skin at his touch.

“Mabel?

Sweetheart?

How are you feeling?”

“Dizzy,” I mumbled, letting the word slur and fall apart.

“So dizzy… the water tasted… bitter…”