Total pages in book: 193
Estimated words: 184001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 920(@200wpm)___ 736(@250wpm)___ 613(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 184001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 920(@200wpm)___ 736(@250wpm)___ 613(@300wpm)
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.