The Fighter (Book 1)

Chapter 9

I didn't tell Zack about Taylor's translation of the prediction. I didn't tell Taylor that I knew, though he could probably tell from how often I thought about it. It had been two days since Eros told me, and I rarely spoke to Zack.

Zack was frustrated. I knew that much from the tortured look in his eyes when I refused to kiss him. I wanted him to hate me–needed him to hate me. I didn't want him to have to kill me, and I didn't want to die, but I missed him.

I was frustrated. Not to mention lonely. So I spent time with Sam, and more with Eros. Spending time with Eros frustrated Zack to the point of misery from what Taylor had told me in passing.

I had been getting ready for the first official training day when there was a knock on my door. Slow. Dripping in confidence that I didn't have. I was pulling my hair into a braid, so I flipped the lock with my elbow, quickly moving out of the way, "It's open."

The door opened, and stupidly I had my back to it, going to my open suitcase for a ponytail. There was silence behind me, and I assumed it was only Eros watching to see how I was doing. He promised to be a sort of counselor to me when I needed it.

After I had tied off my hair, before I even got to turn around, there was a blindfold tied over my eyes. "Perfect. Just how I wanted this day to start."

"Get on the bed," a low voice snarled in my ear.

"Be nice if I could see it," I griped, feeling my way around the suitcase until I just huffed and knocked it to the floor. I heard the lock on the door flip and light footsteps making their way to the bed.

"Lie down," they commanded. I scoffed, receiving more than enough scratches down my legs. "Now, sweetheart."

I raised an eyebrow, leaning back on my arm. "How'd you do that to your voice?"

It had to be Zack. He was the only person on earth that called me sweetheart, and only he would have the guts to do such a thing under the circumstances. If it wasn't, I was very curious as to their motive.

Zack–or whoever it was–dragged their tongue along the fresh scratches in my legs. "Lie," they crawled onto the bed, "down."

Truth is, I missed Zack enough to forget my entire plan of making him hate me. "Make me, Mr. Superiority."

There was a pause, a moment of hesitation, and I figured it had to be Zack. His anxiety might've gotten the best of him had I not done as he asked. "Fine," I sighed, "but only since you asked so nicely."

He crawled over me, sitting down on my waist. I pulled him down on top of me, determined to know if it was him or not. My hands scanned his wing, running over the cold stitches. "You're going to tell me why you won't talk to me."

"Am I now?" if I hadn't been wearing the blindfold, I'd have rolled my eyes.

Zack laced his fingers through mine, pinning my arms above my head, "Looks like you aren't going anywhere until you do."

I bit my lower lip until I swore it was bleeding. There wasn't anything in the world I wanted more than to tell him. Just to get it over with and push it away, but I knew Zack, and I knew he'd be angry at Taylor and angry in general. I knew he wouldn't believe it, and he'd force himself to love me if he had to, just to prove to the world which prediction was wrong.

"Treble," he said softly, leaning down to kiss my cheek. His lips lingered, and he left a trail of kisses down to my neck. "Tell me," he groaned into my neck.

My arms ached not to wrap around him, and even though I knew it wouldn't work, I tried to pull out of his grasp. "Dammit, Zack," I let out a frustrated sigh and he kissed my collarbone. He reached a hand under my shirt and grabbed my waist like I was providing him oxygen. Like he'd run out if he didn't have my skin. "If I would've known this was how I'd spend my morning, I would've stayed in the shower longer. Or left earlier to see Eros before-"