Page 18 of Protected By the Wolven

“It’s the noise the package makes when you whack it on the counter to open it. I grew up on these. They’re cheap, easy, and delish.”

“Delish, huh?” I inhale the rich scent of coffee as I watch him pull the pan out of the oven. “Are there any bakeries here in the Zone?”

“Some of the street vendors sell a few varieties of baked goods out of their carts, but no actual bakeries. Why?”

“Just wondering, that’s all.” I pick two biscuits, cut them open, and butter them as I ask, “What’s on the agenda?”

“Well, I was thinking…” Lash leans back against the counter, arms crossed casually. “How about I teach you a classic Other card game? It’s called zim-zam. Played it all the time growing up in the Zone.”

“Sounds fun! I’m always up for learning something new.” I spread strawberry jam on the biscuit and hum in appreciation at the burst of sweetness on my tongue.

“Great.” Lash’s smile widens, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Fair warning, though. I’m pretty good. Think you can handle losing a few rounds?”

“Oh, it’s on.” I shoot him a playful glare. “Don’t underestimate me. I might just surprise you.”

Lash chuckles, a warm rumble in his chest. “I’ll grab the cards then. Prepare to get your ass kicked properly!” Suddenly, his eyes widen as he realizes his words might have terrified me.

Although a few days ago, the threat of an ass whipping would have sent lightning bolts of fear sizzling through my veins, I feel nothing but the anticipation of having fun with Lash.

“Ass kicked? In your dreams!” I enjoy watching his handsome face relax as I let him see how comfortable I am with him.

Grinning to myself, I finish my last biscuit and take another satisfying sip of coffee. As Lash returns from a trip to his room brandishing two worn decks of cards, I can’t help but marvel at how comfortable this all feels. The easy banter, the casual domesticity. It’s nice, joking and making playful jests with someone.

As crazy as this whole fake fiancée scheme seemed at first, moments like these make it feel almost… natural. Real. I shake off the thought as Lash deals the cards.

One thing at a time, Zoya. For now, just focus on learning the game—and wiping that smug grin off Lash’s face when you beat him.

Game on.

Chapter Seventeen

Lash

“It’s pretty basic,” I explain as I shuffle.

We’ve cleared the kitchen table, and, at Zoya’s suggestion, I’ve moved it into the living room so we get the benefit of all the light streaming through the windows. I must admit, it’s better than being in my tiny kitchen, which is more like a cave than a room.

“It’s more about fast reflexes than higher thought.” I give her my most feral grin, letting her know what she’s in for. I doubt even a human Olympic-level athlete could match my average wolven reflexes. That’s one of the reasons Others aren’t allowed to play professional sports.

I explain the rules, finishing with, “And if we both have a match to the top card on the pile, whoever shouts ‘zim-zam’ first gets toslap the other’s hand.” Before she has time to panic, I say, “Here, set your hand on the table, palm down. I’ll show you how hard I’ll slap. Don’t worry.”

It takes her a moment to follow my instructions, but as soon as she lays her hand down, I give it a barely-there touch. It’s so soft, it doesn’t make the satisfying slapping sound I used to enjoy when playing this with my friends as a kid.

“You okay with this?” When she nods, I add, “As a bonus, you can slap this big, bad wolf as hard as you want.”

I don’t know what’s more surprising, that I called myself a wolf, which wolvenneverdo, or that she seems unhappy with the offer.

“Here. Slap me.”

After I set my hand on the table, she taps me as lightly as I just tapped her. Okay, I guess this is going to be the kinder, gentler version of zim-zam. It will still be fun.

Half an hour later, we’re laughing so hard my sides ache. Did I really think I’d easily win because of my superior reflexes? I’m so distracted by Zoya’s happy smile and her unabashed attempts to cheat, that we’re tied, four to four.

“How about whoever wins the next game is declared the ultimate victor?” I’m feeling confident because I have a new strategy I want to break out.

She appears to be deep in thought, then nods.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you…” When she pauses, I realize I’ve never seen this expression on her face before. Is she confident? No. If I had to put a name on it, I’d call it diabolical.

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