Again, he seems like a good Samaritan, offering his very own drink to his slave, but we both know what this is. If I drink from his cup, then his suspicions are wrong. If I don’t, well…There really isn’t any other option.
“Thank you, мастеp.” Aleksei hums his approval as I slowly peer up at him from under my lashes and timidly accept the cup from his hands.
I know what this means, but what other choice do I have?
Without reservation, I draw the cup to my lips, and I…drink. The urge to throw it all up overwhelms me, but I swallow it down, as I do with my tears. Aleksei places his fingers under the rim, forcing me to down it all.
I do.
When the cup is empty, I wipe my lips with the back of my hand and wonder how long I have before the drugs hit. Before that happens, however, I whisper,
