Page 69 of Biker's Prisoner: Property of Bucky

"Good food," Ruger grunts, his body language softening after a couple bites. He's still enough of an animal that food tames him effectively. I like watching him eat. It's sexy as fuck when a man has an appetite and gets sauces and meat juices all over his face and beard.

I eat as much as I can while Ruger forgets himself and starts chowing down. Men. He storms around creating all that fuss just to quiet down once you put a plate of food in front of him. They call it "manipulation", but it's not like communication works on their asses.

"So," I venture after Ruger eats more than enough for dinner. He enjoys his second and third helpings, so once he has enough food to calm down his sour ass mood, I need to pounce on the opportunity to ask him... what the hell is wrong with you?

"What pissed you off so much?"

Even Zeus spentthe afternoon avoiding Ruger and he is downright thirsty for his toxic ass.

Ruger's gaze flickers towards me. Ice.

"What's the point?"he snaps. "I already know the answer and when I hear what I don't want to hear... it's over between us."

The voicesin Ruger's head clearly picked up a few instruments and started a band.

"What are you talking about?"I ask, trying to stay calm so I don't rile the beast. There's a small part of me that enjoys getting a rise out of Ruger, but Ruger isn’t starting up a play fight. He's serious. He can't hide the red flush in his cheeks.

He also can't hide the fact that his normal excessive eye contact has been reduced to the occasional disdainful glance. He never looked at me with this much derision before and the growing knot in my stomach just heightens my current need for his approval.

This is how it always starts with men. An angry look. Concern that I haven't pleased them enough. Too many men get off on the power they have over women emotionally. I never thought Ruger was the type but now, I'm not so sure.

I was just starting to feel safe having feelings for him. I didn't even know what these feelings were but for a brief series of days, I held some strange delusion that we could make this work after just one more death. I held my breath for two weeks, obsessively tracking the news. Both deaths reported as suicides. Neither of the families nor the police were suspicious of a thing.

Ruger made my world a little safer and now, everything about his snarling tone tells me he's going to make it all fall apart.

"I need..."

His reddening intensifies.

"To kill your ex-boyfriend."

The color vanishesfrom his face so quickly I feel sure I imagined the build-up of tension so visible across his sharp facial features. His brows pinch together so tightly that his face looks more like an eagle's than man's. His eyes look almost dark as he punctures me across the table with an accusatory gaze.

But accusing me of what?

I haven't thoughtabout my ex-boyfriend Curtis in... years. He left before I got attacked. I tried to make it on my own. The attack happened. He continued painting a picture for the world on social media that his life was a total dream. Maybe it still is. I gave up on doom scrolling ex-boyfriend's profiles a long time ago.

There are more than enough circumstances in this world to feel terrible about. Nobody needs to see their ex-boyfriend winning at life when they're at their lowest.

"Why doyou want to do that?"

"Fuck this," Ruger mutters and he shoves half a potato into his mouth. Men will do the dumbest shit out of anger. I calmly lay my fork on the side of my plate. I can't imagine the hell this man raised during the limited time he spent in a classroom.

I never realized my classroom management skills would do more for me in the real world than they ever did in the classroom.

"I need everyone who touched you dead."

"We broke up years before that happened."

"Fucking Christ,Zayna. Just tell me that you're still in love with him and you won't let me kill him. Be fucking honest."

I slide one of my hands under the table so I can grip the side of the teak dining chair Ruger hand carved and calm myself down enough not to lose my shit with a death grip on some wood.

"I don't love him, Ruger. I haven't seen that man in almost three years, and I don't want to see him. Ever."

Ruger glares and shoves the other half of the potato into his mouth. Does he think angrily chewing a potato at me is going tochange my mind? His glaring intensifies as he tries to work out his opinion of my logic which is surely going to be wrong.

It's getting harder to be sane about this whole thing too because he clearly wants an answer and not just that... if Ruger doesn't get the answer he wants, I have no way of stopping him from ending that man's life.

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