Even with darkness around us, I can still see his beautiful black eyes.
Fuck. This is truly him. This is M.
He is finally here.
“I’m here, little hummingbird.” He reaches for something from the inside of his jacket, and my eyes can’t help but follow his movements.
It’s so precise.
Soprofessional.
With a quickness I don’t see coming, he grabs the thing he has been hiding in his palm, then I feel a sting in my arm.
And the world goes black.
1.Bosnian luncheon meat.
10
Lana
“I’m here.”
His words echo in my mind, and those gorgeous eyes are etched onto my brain. Was it all a dream? No time to think about that, it’s time for me to wake up.
I want to open my eyes, but the light is hurting them. I blink fast a couple of times and lick the inside of my mouth. I keep my eyes closed, so as not to overwhelm them immediately, but my nose picks up a smell.
Is that chamomile? And do I sense a hint of cinnamon?
I open my eyes, and I must be dreaming because this isn’t my house.
“I’m here.”
I bite on my lower lip to suppress a nervous smile.
This isn’t my shitty apartment. I’m currently in what can only be described as a mansion. The room I am in has stylish blackwalls, four floor-to-ceiling windows, light beige wooden floors, and a fireplace. I’m sitting on the couch with two brown leather chaise lounges on each side and a beautiful glass table.
This place screams luxury.
I slowly sit up and notice that it’s still dark outside. The moon is barely shining through the windows, but the small sliver of light behind clouds is casting a shadow over me, without a glimmer of hope.
I sit up straight now, but my body just isn't cooperating. To avoid any risks of getting up too fast and fainting, I slump deeper into the very comfortable couch.
I rub my hands over my eyes and sigh loudly.
“I thought you might be awake. I made some chamomile tea, and the cinnamon roll has been heated up.”
“What the fuck?” My sense of awareness suddenly heightens. He sets down a tray that is indeed filled with a cup of chamomile tea and a cinnamon roll.
I keep glancing over at him while he is putting sugar in my tea. He hands me the mug, and I accept it.
I look down into the mug and give him a questionable look.
“I didn’t poison your tea, if that’s what you are thinking,” he says with that stupid grin of his.
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” I answer while I take a sip of my tea.
“What do you mean?”
