You Are Mine Little Sister (by Syra Tucker) novel Chapter 208

RALI

My dream had been about Veronica and I racing through an open field, laughter chasing us like birdsong. So why, in the middle of all that memory, did the scent of toasted bread and eggs creep into my senses?

A moan slipped from me at the insistence of a thumb pressing against my pussy. It kept going until the line between dream and waking shattered.

I gasped awake.

Not to my surprise, Void was there between my legs, pressing his thumb into me.

"Seriously?" I groaned.

He chuckled, pulling away. "Thought I should wake you up with that."

The smell from my dream got stronger. I looked around, and in front of me was a tray of bread toast, scrambled eggs and coffee.

Woah.

"You made these?"

"Yeah, breakfast in bed."

Thank goodness my hands were no longer bound.

I sat up and pulled the tray closer. It actually looked good.

"How am I sure this would taste nice?" I asked, already spearing a piece of egg with my fork.

Void lay beside me, shirtless, one arm tucked under his head. He sniggered. "Relax Green; not everyone's a tragic cook like you."

I took a taste and nearly moaned. I hated how good it was and how much I loved it.

I continued eating.

"Relax, no monster's around here to take your food from you," the asshole teased me.

What? Had I been eating that fast?

I shut him a glare. "Well, I have one beside me."

A while later, the room became too quiet. I turned to him to find him watching me, his head on the pillow with his hands tucked under.

"When will you stop with the lenses?" his tone shifted, turning serious.

I paused mid-chew, the question rubbing at a sensitive spot.

"I don't know yet. Don't think I will."

"Rali—"

"What? You gonna hold me down and rip them out?"

When his response didn't come, I turned to him again.

"If I didn't want you to make that decision yourself," he said calmly. "I'd have taken them off the first day we met."

I snorted. "So, there are some choices you allow to make."

I reached for the remote on the bedside table, eager to drown the tension in noise. The television flickered on as I popped another bite of eggs into my mouth. Everything crashed to a stop at the report in front of me.

What the hell?

The screen displayed a reporter above a bold headline: The First Lady, Vlyrissa Thorne narrowly survived a suicide attempt.

My brows crumbled. "What the fuck?"

I listened as the reporter detailed the incident. Apparently, she'd locked herself in her room and taken a lethal substance. She probably would've died if they hadn't broken down the door in time to save her.

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