Picking up the fork, I spear a pineapple chunk, saving the cantaloupe in the bowl for last. Just the sight of it makes me want to smile. There’s no way Peyton or anyone else would know how happy seeing those little orange pieces makes me.
Once all the fruit except the cantaloupe is gone, I pull the salad toward me. I hate rabbit food, but of all the other items onthe tray, this is the only thing that’s not uncooked. It would be difficult to hide a drug in the fruit and salad, but the fish with the sauce is probably where it’s at. That, or the drink.
Glancing toward the door, and then around the room at all the places where there could be a camera, I bite my lips and I pick up the plate of fish and the drink. I rush to the bathroom, sitting the plate and cup down on the counter so I can shut the door, locking it quietly.
I turn on the water, then snatch up the washcloth I used earlier, setting it so the cup tilts enough that the liquid trickles into the sink. I grab the fork and smash the food, cutting it up so it looks like I’ve eaten some of it. Looking at the plate, I realize there’s garlic in the sauce, and if I don’t eat any of it, he’ll know. I take a quick bite, letting it sit in my mouth for as long as I can, before spitting it into the toilet and scraping some of it off the plate into the toilet. As I flush it, I think about dumping the rest of it too, but I change my mind. Samuel knows I hate wet food.
I clean everything up and head back to the table, settling myself back at the table, and taking several bites of the salad. The desire to make Draven proud fuels my actions, even if he’s not here. I may never see him again. If that’s the case, I have to keep him alive in whatever way I can. This will be my way.
The door opens suddenly, and Samuel and the woman walk in. She looks like she’s been laying in the sun all day. When she steps around Samuel, she trips and giggles, then staggers into the room.
Drunk or drugged.
I nod to myself while watching the show she puts on as she twirls through the room, gathering things up. At the door, she wiggles her fingers at me like she’s trying to say hello or something equally stupid. I turn my attention back to my food, picking up the bowl of fruit.
Samuel comes to the table, looking over the tray. He asks, “Did you not like the fish?”
Bingo!
I shake my head and curl up my nose.
“Take a bite.”
Swallowing a sigh and closing my eyes to hide the eye roll, I take a decent size bite. Then, another smaller one.
“A bite, not a nibble.”
I scoop up more of the fish, trying to avoid the sauce as much as possible. Looking up at him, I pull the food from the tines with my gaze locked with his.
“Take a drink.”
I do as I’m told because he’s not above pouring it down my throat.
“Good.”
He turns and goes into the bathroom with her, leaving me alone. I eat the rest of the salad and the veggies that don’t have any of the sauce, touching them before eating the cantaloupe piece by piece.
With every second that passes, my body becomes buzzier and buzzier. My limbs loose yet energized. The colors and objects in my vision swim and dance before my eyes. My lips and face feel funny.
I’m aware of everything, but the drugs switched some things off. Inhibition and caution are gone. Considering the effects, he’s spiked the food and drink with Special K and Ecstacy. It’s a favorite of the guests and the members of the Order.
When the cantaloupe is gone, I stand up, and the limber, loosey-goosey feeling has me twisting and turning in circles with my arms over my head. There’re floaty little spots above me, and I wanna catch them.
“Someone’s ready to party.”
I hear the person, but the floaty things are too pretty to look away from.
“Boy.”
I turn toward the voice, and Samuel stands there with her, watching me.
I wonder what her name is?
Samuel nudges her toward the door, then pulls me to him, burying his tongue in my mouth and cupping my cock. He traces over it, and as much as I don’t want it to; it hardens.
“That’s the reaction I want from you.”
He grabs my face, pressing down on the bruises already there, and I bite my cheek to keep from gasping. “You better be good to my friends tonight. I promised them a show.”
