Chapter Eight
AURELIA
Seriously, I can’t win with this guy.
Somehow, I make it through breakfast with Zeke scowling at me the entire time. He looks like he wants to bolt, but he doesn’t. Was it because I dared him not to or did Thorin and Khalil threaten him? Both possibilities seem likely.
The moment they stand, Zeke does too, and I prepare myself to enjoy the solitude as they all go their separate ways.
Thorin grabs his rifle by the door and leaves the cabin, Khalil goes downstairs to work on the repairs to Zeke’s bedroom, and Zeke opens the sliding door to the upper deck and walks out.
The door closes behind him with a firm shut, as if to say, keep away. I pick up the book I brought to the table and open it up for some light reading before I clean up. An hour later, I’m halfway through the fifth chapter of the thriller when the sliding door opens again.
It’s an effort not to look up.
I listen to the glass door slide closed again and his footsteps carry him around the living room. It feels like we’re alone in the cabin even though I can hear Khalil hammering away downstairs. I’m so distracted by Zeke’s quiet presence that I end up reading the same sentence over and over.
He stops by the shelves, and I cut my gaze toward the living room to see him perusing the books.
My gaze flies back to my own when he turns toward the shelves that have him facing me now.
He picks up a book, sets it down, and then picks up another.
He does this again and again until he finally selects one.
My gaze becomes unfocused as he travels into the kitchen next. I listen as he opens a drawer, but I don’t see whatever he grabs before he shuts it. He opens a cabinet next, and I hear the scrape of glass over the wood and the swish of liquid in a bottle.
Zeke starts walking again, and I assume he’ll go back out onto the deck, but instead, he walks over to the table and slides into the seat in front of me.
In Seth’s seat.
It’s all I can do not to acknowledge his presence—to act as indifferent toward him as he is toward me.
I turn the page even though I have no idea what is happening and try to focus on the words.
Zeke sets the items he collected on the table, and I use the excuse of all the noise he’s causing to finally look up and scowl at him.
“Do you mind? I’m trying to read.”
“What’s it about?”
God, I have no idea.
He swipes up the box of cards, thumbs the tab open, and empties the deck into his palm.
Even before he came in, I was having a hard time focusing because my mind never left breakfast. Zeke isn’t eating, and no one seems to be concerned about that except me. It’s only been a few days, but how much longer can he hold out?
“That’s an incredibly rude question,” I joke as I turn the page again.
“Do you play cards?” he asks as he riffle shuffles them.
“Yes.”
“Would you like to play a round with me?”
I sigh and close the book in my hand that the chatterbox doesn’t seem to notice I’m holding. Setting it down on the table, I sit back and stare at him. He also has a book resting near his elbow as if he’s planning on staying. There’s also a bottle of gin from Thorin’s stash.
“Why would I play with you?” I ask.
“Call it an icebreaker.”
“But I like the ice. It’s kind of comforting.”
“So that’s it then?” His brows raise. “You’ve finally given up the nice act?”
“It wasn’t an act. I was genuinely being nice to you, but then you turned out to be a dick, and now I’m over it. I’ve decided we don’t need to be friends.”
“Ouch.” As if I hadn’t insulted him, he splits the deck in half and starts dealing the cards. “One round,” he pleads.
I sigh again, but I don’t leave the table like I’m itching to do. Once all the cards are dealt, he slides the gin into the center, where it’s easy for us both to reach. “What are we playing?”
“It’s called War.”
Fitting.
“We each flip one card over at the same time until one of us wins all the cards in the deck. The player with the higher card wins the hand. Whoever has the lower card has to take a drink.” Zeke taps the bottle of gin with a fingernail. “That’s where this comes in.”
“It’s barely noon,” I point out. “And you haven’t eaten.”
“Are you worried about me?”
“No.”
Zeke smiles, and it’s not exactly friendly, but it’s not unfriendly either.
It’s fucking beautiful.
My belly dips from the weight of my want when I realize he has Seth’s smile. The curve of it promises danger while drawing me in.
“Then there’s no reason we can’t play,” Zeke decides before picking up his cards. He keeps them face down and pauses to regard me. “Unless you’d rather trade truths instead?”
“Pass.”
Zeke smiles and licks his lips. And then he tips his chin toward my untouched half of the deck. “Ready?”
Wondering why he’s doing this, I slowly claim my cards and keep them face down like he does. “Ready.”
We both grab the top card in our hand and slam them down face up between us at the same time. Zeke swears when my queen of diamonds trumps his three of hearts.
I smile a little as I claim the cards while Zeke grabs the gin and takes a healthy swig before slamming it back down. “Beginner’s luck,” he says with his eyes on me.
We’re still holding each other’s gazes when we play two more cards. My seven of diamonds beats his six of spades. “You assume I’ve never played this before.”
Zeke pauses to take another drink. “The game doesn’t require any skill, princess.”
“And yet you’re losing.”
We set down two more cards, and I win again, so I grab the platter of leftover bacon and push it toward him. “You might want to eat something,” I taunt.
Zeke ignores the offer of food and sits back in his chair to study me with a drum of callused fingers on his un-played cards. “Alcohol poisoning or food poisoning… However will I choose?”
Something like anguish at the rejection lodges in my throat, but I swallow it back down. Zeke’s a grown man. If he doesn’t want to eat, he doesn’t have to, but we both know this isn’t about food.
He doesn’t have to want you either, Aurelia.
“You’re not what I expected,” I blurt anyway.
Zeke is visibly startled by the admission, but he recovers fast, with his brows pulling low and his jaw twitching from clenching his teeth so hard.
“Let me guess… My brothers told you that I was weak and damaged and afraid of my own shadow. They told you I wouldn’t be able to handle your presence in the cabin. ”
It’s my turn to study him and the resentment he tries and fails to hide at his own perceived weakness. “Trauma doesn’t make you weak, Ezekiel.” His green eyes are full of panic when they find mine again. “Being cruel does.”
“Please don’t call me that,” he chokes out.
“What? Cruel?”
The knot in his throat works up and down as he decides whether to offer up a weakness to evil little me. “Ezekiel.”
“Why?”
His body language screams and that’s enough of that.
Zeke swears, straightens, and throws down another card.
King of hearts.
Something tells me this game, fueled by the alcohol, was meant to loosen my tongue, not his. I set a card down too, but mine is also a king—from the diamond suit.
Never having played this game before despite my bluff, I feel my eyes widen dramatically as I look to Zeke for answers. He’s staring at the cards as if they mean something.
War, I discern when I remember the name of the game.
Two cards of equal value must mean war.
Suddenly, it doesn’t feel like a simple card game. It feels like we’re battling for the rights to Thorin and Khalil, who we both know will never be able to choose between us.
“What do we do now?”
“Now we drink.” He snatches up the bottle and drinks before slamming it down hard enough to make me jump.
I’m not afraid.
I just haven’t stopped being hyperaware of him since he first sat down. He’s beautiful, tormented, and he hates me despite denying it.
Zeke pushes the bottle toward me, and I hesitantly accept it.
I’m unable to look away from him as I tip the rim toward my mouth, barely letting it touch my lips as I take a small sip.
The liquor is strong and not my drink of choice, so I immediately gag and pull the bottle away.
Zeke presses his fingers to the bottom before I can set the bottle down, and he gently tips it back toward my lips until I feel the smooth rim.
Eyes on him, I obediently drink more.
After I gulp a healthy swallow, he finally takes the bottle back while I gasp for breath.
Once I recover, he pulls three cards from his deck, leaving them face down, and I mimic him. He then pulls a fourth, so I do too, and with our gazes locked, we turn the last drawn card over.
Zeke wins, claiming all the cards, making his pile much larger than mine.
I’m starting to regret not asking what the winner gets.
Or what the loser has to do.
I should know better by now. These men of mine never do anything without a purpose that extracts a heavy toll. Except Zeke isn’t mine, so I have no idea what to expect, which makes me even more nervous.
I take a drink, and we keep playing, but the tides quickly turn after the first war is triggered with Zeke going on to win all of the cards in the deck.
“Heyyyy,” I slur with a drunken smile. “You won. That was fun.” Lie. It was completely nerve-racking. I’m soooo glad I’m drunk. “We should do it again sometime.”
“We’re not done doing it now,” he says with a small but amused smile. “I won. That means I get a prize.”
“Riiiiight. Right, right, right, right, right.” I smile again as I rest my cheek on my hand and stare at the blurry image of Zeke across the table. In Seth’s seat. “Whaddayouwant?”
“You can either finish that,” he says, referring to the last of the gin, which is about three shots’ worth. My head and stomach immediately roil as I become dizzy. “Or you can answer one question for me honestly.”
Why do I feel like he was getting me drunk and leading me blindly to this, the real game, all along?
Because of course he was.
I’m the fool for hoping he was finally coming around.
Oops.
“Orrrr I can make you a birthday cake.”
The amused twinkle in Zeke’s eyes winks out as he looks at me as if he’s the one trapped in a…um…a trap…now. I’m so drunk. “What are you talking about?”
“Your birthday. I know it passed two days ago. Khalil told me. I wanted to bake you a cake,” I blab as I run my finger over the surface of the table, “buuuut he said it probably wasn’t a good idea.” I pout since I had really been looking forward to cake.
“He’s right. It’s not a good idea. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth anyway. That’s Seth’s thing.”
“What do you like?” I let slip as I lean forward like I find him fascinating.
He is. He really is.
Zeke swipes up all the cards and begins to shuffle them again as he stares at me with a lazy look. “Sour things. Bitter things that burn.”
“Wow… You must have really shitty taste in coffee then.”
Zeke laughs, and it’s deep, dark, and woefully short-lived. It falls quiet between us, and when my bare toes accidentally brush the rough hairs on his leg, we both startle like we were electrocuted. I can feel my toes tingling from that brief touch. That brief, sweet spark burning like an ember.
“Are you ever going to ask your question?”
“Do you really think you can be happy here, spending the rest of your life as a ghost?”
Ah. That. “Sure. Why not? It’s better than the alternative.”
“Which is?”
“Spending the rest of my life being what my uncle wants me to be.”
Zeke studies me carefully. “And there’s no third choice?”
For some reason I have trouble meeting his gaze as I answer. “None that I can see.”
“Are you sure about that, Aurelia?”
I exhale a frustrated breath that reeks of gin.
It feels like he’s pushing me. “I believe that’s four questions, but for your information I’m happy here, Zeke.
I’m sure about that. What I think you should be asking is if you’re willing to deny your friends something real just because it didn’t work out for you.
” I stand and stagger away while I still can, but I swear I hear him grumble a warning as I pass.
“Nothing lasts, princess.”