Sloane I woke up to bright sunlight stabbing my eyes the moment they snapped open. Logan sat beside me, holding a tray of food, a cunning smile on his face.“Good morning, angel,” he said, setting the tray on the bed. I looked at it: toasted bread, sunny-side eggs, and a steaming cup of hot chocolate.I sat up straighter, hands gripping the sheets.“What is this?”“What does it look like?” His tone changed a little. “Breakfast in bed.”“How do I trust you haven't poisoned it?”He chuckled, picked up a piece of toast and chewed. I watched him slowly, eyes trailing down to his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.Why does everywhere feel hot?I looked away, then back at the food. This time I sat properly, hands on the tray as I picked up a toast and bit into it; the crunch filled the room.“See,” he said. “Not poisoned. I don't want to kill you, little one.”“Oh, please. Would you stop with the nickname? I have a name, you know.”“A boring one. I prefer calling you, little one.”I rolled my e
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