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“It's calledraki, and yes, it does.”
“It gives me an awful hangover.” Ginny’s cousin, Olive scrunches up her nose in distaste. “And living on this boat 24/7 is not the place to be with a hangover.”
My lips start to tingle, and I scratch them, irritated by the sensation. “You live on the boat?”
“Deniz, me and his nasty cat. Have been for the past six months.”
I glance over at the fat ginger cat lounging on the chair opposite us. “You don’t like the cat?”
“Aslan hates me as much as I hate him.” She shrugs her shoulders good humouredly. “He always looks like he wants to murder me. I woke up with him on my face the other night.”
To prove her point, she reaches over to pat the cat, but it narrows its copper eyes, hisses, and quickly jumps out of her reach. “See?”
“Death by cat’s ass.”
“I can’t think of a worse way to go!”
The men join us at the table, and Deniz leans over to kiss Olive's cheek. She returns his gesture with a bright smile.
Deniz, around thirty-five years old, is wearing a well-fitted navy-blue shirt that accentuates his lean physique. The shirt is paired with a pair of crisp what linen shorts… and no shoes. Despite this, or maybe because of this, he exudes elegance and the confidence of a person who doesn’t really care what other people think of him. Olive, on the other hand, wears a strapless dress, adorned only with a heavy gold locket and hoops in her ears. Again, she’s barefoot. Her wavy blonde hair and sun-kissed skin complement the laid-back vibe. Both of them being barefoot adds to their quirky charm and I know I’m going to get along with them just fine.
Practicality over style for the win!
“Are you annoying Aslan again, Russo?”
“Damn cat!”
“You antagonize him!”
My lips are burning, my eyes are tearing, and my throat begins to feel scratchy. I take another sip of the milky-white drink. It’s not helping and I cover my mouth to cough.
I can’t quite put my finger on it but there’s this strange feeling in my throat, like food is stuck in there. I swallow, but the feeling isn’t going away and I’m finding it really hard to catch a breath.
Something’s wrong.
I clutch onto Kaan's arm, my hand trembling as I point at the swirling, smoky drink in my glass. My voice trembles as I manage to utter, “What... what’s in this?”
Kaan's follows my gaze to the glass. “You mean theraki?”
Struggling to breathe, I reply in gasps, “I... I think I'm having—” Suddenly, the air becomes scarce, and I slowly sink back into my seat.
Realization dawns on Kaan's face as he connects the dots. “Aniseed,” he blurts out, his eyes widening. “Are you allergic to aniseed, Nutmeg?”
“I… must be.”
Kaan is on his feet in an instant. “We need to get her to the hospital!”
“I’m allergic to bees!” Leyla jumps into action and grabs her handbag, tipping it on the table. She rummages through the contents and pulls out a large plastic tube. “Gökyüzüne mavi, uyluga turuncu.”
I croak struggling to get air into my lungs. “What?”
“It’s how you administer the shot… blue to the sky, orange to the thigh!”
She pops the blue cap and immediately stabs me in the thigh. “Ow!”
“You’ll thank me in a minute!”
I suck air into my lungs as my throat starts to open with a loud wheeze. “Oh my God. I’m… okay,” I say between pants.
