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 screamsand 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 loosenmytongue, 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. Theliquor 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.
