Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
On day two of training, I spent most of my sessions asking the Knights questions about the lockbox, hoping to find a solution that didn’t depend on Max being forthcoming with answers.
By the time I met Tristan out on the back lawn for Escape training, I’d gotten nowhere.
He repeated the broad overview he’d given the day before, explaining his sessions covered four responses to a threat: Fight, Flight, Freeze, and Fawn.
“Today, we’ll cover Fight. How some stand their ground and fight, or verbally attack a threat.” He posed a question as we explored the woods. “If you were stuck in the forest, would you rather be alone with a bear or a man you didn’t know?”
“Bear,” I said automatically. “No question.”
He smiled. “You’re not the first, and won’t be the last, who chooses that so quickly.”
I tilted my head to study him. “Which would you pick?”
“I, like most of the Knights, would pick the unknown man. It’s a common split based on gender. Women tend to pick the bear. Men, the opposite. And if I shared that, say, nine of you chose the bear, some of my brothers won’t understand why.”
“Of course, they won’t.” Rolling my eyes, I stepped over a tree branch and stopped walking. I propped my hands on my hips, donning my best Resting Skeptic Face. “That’s an odd question to ask as you lead me into the woods. Where are you going with this?”
His smile widened. “You’re not the only one who followed up with that, either.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I scoffed. “Women are predictable. We get it.”
“No,” Tristan said quickly, his tone serious as he held my gaze. “Some men are.”
I nodded, the movement slow and careful.
Given Izzy’s feelings for Tristan, and what I’d seen of him, I suspected he was an ally. But I didn’t seize the opportunity to stereotype an entire gender with one of its own.
No matter how nice he seemed or how well he claimed to understand it, he didn’t know what it was like to make a choice like that.
He couldn’t.
So, I redirected.
Gesturing around the woods, I arched my brow. “You were about to answer my question, right? Mansplain it to me. That’ll really drive the point home.”
When I winked, he laughed. “I see why Izzy likes you.”
My cheeks warmed, grateful since I considered her a friend.
He moved on to the purpose of the lesson. “Now, I’m going to pretend to be a bear, and you can show me what you’d do.” He laughed at the expression that drew out of me. “Just go with it.”
On his first attack, I threw my arms in the air and roared at him. He paused in his tracks but didn’t run off.
Instead, he eyed me as suspiciously as I eyed him, then sniffed around like he still planned to come after me.
When he turned, I took the opportunity to run.
That was not the correct response.
After that, we acted out different approaches, like climbing the nearest tree or trying to hide, but he had me practice screaming at him until I stopped reining in my voice and really hollered.
Once I’d sufficiently embarrassed myself, he explained that the type of bear I encountered made a difference.
“Sometimes, puffing out your chest, pretending to be big and strong, and making as much noise as possible is the best way to get to safety, but it’s not the only option.
With smaller black bears, yes. But with brown bears, it’s best to curl up on the ground and protect your vital organs, hoping they’ll go away.
It all depends on the predator. That’s what we’ll explore the rest of the week. ”
“So, day three is about polar bears?”
He grimaced. “If you ever encounter a polar bear, just run. That’s what I’d do. You’re dead anyway.”
On that morbid note, he led us out of the woods.
“It’s natural to want to run when we’re scared, but it’s not always recommended to do that. At least, not with the bear. When it’s an unknown man, sometimes that is your safest option.” His expression tightened as he ended the lesson. “Sometimes, it’s the only option.”
I nodded again, but said nothing else, and we both got lost in our thoughts until we said goodbye.
At the end of day two, Max and I played fully clothed poker.
As we sat there quietly, memories of the cabin resurfaced. The hardest part of reliving them was Max’s indifference. If he was also thinking about our time together, he didn’t show it.
He just pushed his chips toward the center of the table and pretended there was nothing to say.
I stared at the terrible cards in my hand, wanting to provoke a response from him.
Tristan and I hadn’t covered poking the bear, but maybe going on the attack first was a better approach.
Hedging my bets, I tossed my cards in the pot.
“I fold.”
Max didn’t look up, a smug, satisfied smirk gracing his gorgeous face. “’Bout time.”
With a barely believable, slightly annoyed scoff, he scooped up my cards and our chips.
I used his distraction to my advantage and whipped my T-shirt over my head.
He froze. Halfway through stacking my chips on top of his, every ounce of his attention locked on my body.
Or, more accurately, on my bra-clad chest.
Swallowing deeply, he shifted in his seat. “What the hell are you doing?”
I shrugged, making my tits bounce. “My shirt was caked with mud. And you won that hand. That means I lose an article of clothing, right?”
He blinked rapidly, his brow dipping as he tried to process what I’d said while having a staring contest with my cleavage.
I leaned forward and pulled the cards from in front of him over to me, sweeping them into a pile. When my breasts pressed against the table, his lips parted.
The furrow in his brow deepened, and he clenched the poker chips in his fist.
Wary of spooking him, since this was the longest we’d gone without a snide comment, I bit my tongue and said nothing. I sat back down slowly.
Once I shuffled the cards and dealt, I peeked at my hand and tossed my bet into the pot.
Max swallowed again, his eyes darting between me and the door. “We’re not playing strip poker, Quinn.”
“Why not?” I shrugged, my voice lacking heat or a challenge.
Max surprised me by answering it without being a dick.
He muttered under his breath, but the best he came up with was, “Quinn, this isn’t appropriate.”
“You’re supposed to train me on Subterfuge, right?” I arched a brow, sliding the cards together and tapping the top of the deck. “Well, what better way to show me? I mean, it’ll be a Master class if you make it through the game without letting me get under your skin.”
Pasting an innocent smile on my face, I dropped my chin and snuck glances at him while his wheels spun. I leaned back in my chair and cartwheeled internally as his gaze followed me.
Then I went all in.
“Come on, Max,” I whispered. “I dare you.”
His throat bobbed, his onyx eyes darting to my face.
But if he was trying to meet my gaze, he got lost on his way. He stared at my lips, his parting. When his gaze lingered, I peeked my tongue out, running it quickly over my lower lip before meeting his stare.
He pushed back from the table suddenly, like he might bolt.
“You have to train me, Max.” I stopped him in his tracks. “If you leave every session and don’t do your job, I’ll complain about unfair treatment.”
He froze and narrowed his eyes on mine.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Do you want to explain to everyone why it’s so hard for you to be in a room with me? Why you can’t play a simple game without running away?”
His eyes darkened, and the heat in his stare should’ve scared me, but I did not have the appropriate fear-based response to it. My panties were drenched, and I wanted him to pounce. Leap over the table and pin me on my back.
Put me in my place for being a brat.
My nipples hardened, and Max clenched his jaw hard enough to crack a tooth before sitting down abruptly, picking up his cards, and tossing his bet into the pot.
I discarded the top card and flipped the next three face up. Fiddling with my chips, I gave him a break and shifted to a lighter topic. “What was your favorite game growing up? No, wait. Let me guess.” I pretended to think about it. “Was it Knights of the Round Table?”
“Yeah.” He scoffed. “Sure. Go with that.”
I smiled broadly. “Ever cross swords?”
His droll expression assured me he had not. Yet.
When I chuckled to myself, he growled. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Just play the damn game.”
“I’ll have you know, Max Dread, I am an excellent multitasker.” I smirked, picking up a few black chips and setting them aside. “I can imagine a number of dark, dirty fantasies while I kick your ass at poker.”
He huffed, raising an eyebrow expectantly when I still hadn’t called his bet.
“That was Gia’s question, by the way. About the sword crossing.” I threw my chips into the pot. “Doesn’t matter to me if you’ve done it before.”
“Mmhm.”
I discarded another card and turned the next, smiling at the one that appeared. “As long as you’re open to it in the future.”
“Never gonna happen, Pr—”
My eyebrows rose, triumph fueling my stare as it met his.
He snapped his mouth shut, fuming silently for a second before reining in his reaction. Pointedly ignoring my giddy expression, he tapped the table.
I tossed my cards in the center again. “I fold.”
“What?” He gestured at the clear table. “I didn’t even bet.”
“Doesn’t matter.” I stood up and shimmied my leggings to the floor. “You win. I strip. Those are the rules.”
To be fair, Max had seen me far more undressed than this back when we were pretending we didn’t want each other.
I’d been covered in whipped cream at the time.
Oh, the memories.
And he’d seen me way more naked since.
So, I didn’t expect him to react quite so strongly to a sports bra and cheeky panties, especially since he couldn’t even see how cute my butt looked from where he sat.
But his breathing grew shallow.
His pupils dilated, darkening his eyes even more than usual. Tension radiated up his forearms, and the muscles in his arms bulged. And when he reached for the pile of chips and my cards, his hands shook.
I took pity on us both and sat back down.