Page 28 of A Game Cursed and Deadly

And I’m ordering lobster.

As the food starts piling up on our table conversation flows easily and six-thirty turns into seven-thirty, the sun lowering below the horizon, painting the restaurant pink and orange. I look outside, chewing on a bite of lobster tail, as I bask in its beauty.

“Moments like this are this town’s only redeeming quality,” I say absentmindedly.

“You really don’t like Hazel Creek, do you?”

To stall, I stuff another bite in my mouth and chew it. It may be an innocuous enough question, but the answer is loaded, because I can’t explain my disdain for this town without explaining my skill, and how it has impacted me growing up.

It’s in these times I wish Mama were here; she’d know what to say, how to handle this. She’d be able to teach me how to handle it. Àvia tried her best, of course, but she could only do so much when she couldn’t understand my experience. Our abilities frightened her more than anything, so her answer was to keep it all hidden as far down as possible, and keep me hidden too, while she was at it.

“Where did you just go?” Teizel asks.

“Uh?”

He points to me with his fork. “Your mind was wandering. You have this far away look in your eyes when you’re thinking about something.”

I frown. It’s scary how good he is at reading me. “I was thinking about my family, honestly.”

“Your grandma again?”

I chew the inside of my cheek, debating how much to share. Deciding this much is safe territory, and if he wanted to know he could ask anyone in Hazel Creek, anyway, I say, “yes and no. I was thinking about her, but mostly I was thinking about my mom.”

Teizel props his chin on his hand and leans forward, every ounce of his attention on me. It’s a heady feeling, commanding someone so… commanding. “You haven’t talked about her much. You two don’t get along or something?”

A bitter laugh escapes me. My mom was my absolute best friend in the whole world. Nobody was ever able to replace her, so in a way, she still is. “No, I loved her. So much. She… she passed when I was four. I miss her everyday, but her memory is especially painful.”

“How so?”

I speak before I can think twice on the words I’m saying. “Because I have a lot of regrets linked to it, a lot of what ifs. I’d give anything to have her by my side again.”

A glint of something dangerous sparks in his eyes. He smothers it quickly, the gentle and understanding expression back on, but I can’t help but feel like it’s a mask of some kind. This something foreign within him, like he doesn’t belong, is not new. In fact, it’s drawn me to him to begin with. Right now, though, it’s twisting into something sinister. I don’t know what he’s hiding, but for the first time since I’ve known him, I feel the urge to flee.

chapter 12

golden cheeks marred crimson

teizel

I know I’ve struck gold the moment the words leave her lips. Her deepest desire is laid bare before me, and I have the power to make it come true. If she can break the curse, that is. The heady feeling of the hunt closing in makes my control slip, and I let something through I shouldn’t — hunger, probably — because Esmeralda withdraws, fear tinging the air in smoke.

Faux pas. I reel in my instincts as quickly as I can, but the damage is done. Esmeralda fidgets with the napkin on her lap. “I best get going, I don’t love driving in the dark.”

It’s a lame excuse and we both know it, considering the sun is still setting and there’s plenty of time before the roads will turn truly dark. Her survival instincts have kicked in, though, and the little prey will squirm away now that she feels hunted. The predator in me can’t let that happen.

“Sure, we can get the check.” I flag down the waiter, who catches my drift. “Any chance I can tempt you with a walk down the beach before we head home, though?”

Esmeralda chews on her inner cheek, puckering her lips, likely looking for a way to turn me down.

I don’t let her. “This is your favorite part of this town, is it not? How often do you even get to come up here?”

Her sigh tells me I’ve hit on a good point. I keep going, leaning over the table to get closer. “I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself, if that’s what you want.”

“No, it’s not that, I…”

I reach my hand for hers and trail a finger over her smooth skin, which goose-pimples. “Then I won’t.”

The waiter returns with the check and her bagged food, and I pull two hundred-dollar bills from my wallet before standing. I put Esmeralda’s food on my elbow and offer her a hand, holding my breath as I wait for her to take it.

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