Page 130
“Uh… but about Cyn. Like I told you before, he doesn’t enjoy feeling threatened. So, feeling threatened in a new environment? He’s defaulting to what he does best.”
“Which is?”
“Try to take charge and run things.”
She pressed her lips together. “Mmm. Yeah, I can see that.”
“But see, that’s Ezra’s job.”
She grabbed her phone and plugged in her charger, placing it on the nightstand. “Why’s that?”
“Ezra’s our leader.”
She sat back against the headboard and stretched her legs out.
“He outranks us because of his dad’s position on the council, but he doesn’t pull rank unless things are out of hand.” I ran my finger along the seam of her jeans. “But Cyn tries to regain control when he’s upset. If it gets too bad, Ezra has to step in, but it usually doesn’t.”
She scoffed.
“What?”
“So his constant threats aren’t enough to put him in his place?”
“He threatens you?”
Her mouth dropped open. “Have you not heard him?”
I looked up at the ceiling, trying to recall her interactions with him.
I often got nervous he’d do something bad to her, but I never heard him say he’d hurt her. Many times, their arguments brought them closer together, distracting me from their words. I’d end up aroused and confused, trying to think of other things to calm down.
“Zeke?”
I looked into her silvery-blue eyes. She’s so pretty. I shook my head, hating how out of sorts I felt today. I wasn’t normally this distracted. Something felt off. “I don’t think I remember.” Frowning, I added, “I’m sorry.”
“Well, he’s done it.” She crossed her arms. “I mean, he always tacks on stupid things like he won’t unless I want him to and all that, but—”
“Oh! Yeah. I remember that.” I twisted my lips to the side. But wouldn’t that mean… “So he hasn’t threatened you?”
“It feels threatening,” she mumbled.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think he’d hurt you. Not intentionally.”
“That’s not reassuring, you know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.”
“I’m sor—”
She leaned over and covered my mouth with her hand. “No. It isn’t your fault your friend is an asshole. Got me?” When I nodded, she said, “Good boy.”
Shit.
I closed my eyes, a shudder passing through me as I bit the inside of my cheek.
The first time she called me a good boy, the playful words caused a visceral reaction that surprised me. I didn’t know how to respond. When she said it again, pressed against my body last night, I almost whimpered. I’d bitten my tongue to stop the involuntary sound.
