Page 56 of Make Me Hunt
I was just supposed to get the information and leave. Now something’s happened that’ll tie me to him forever.
I’m not sure what to say, so I’ll let him do the talking. I feel like things are getting more complicated by the minute. Like every choice I make will be the wrong one.
“Hungry?” He breaks the silence with a much more cheerful attitude than his usual self.
“A little,” I murmur, hoping to wipe this dumb look off my face, though it doesn’t seem to be working.
“Let’s get you something to eat then. I wore you out last night.” He smirks, pushing the sheet that covered him aside, leaving the bed fully naked. And just like that, I lost my appetite... at least the one for food, because I have a new appetite now.
There’s not much for me to do except watch him pull on a pair of shorts and toss me one of his T-shirts, since my clothes are completely ruined from last night.
We head to the kitchen next, and I half-expect him to order something, or at least call one of his maids to make us something to eat. Instead, he opens the fridge, takes out a box of eggs, some tomatoes, and a few peppers.
I have no idea what he’s making for breakfast, but I feel I shouldn’t leave him to cook alone.
“Want some help?” I ask, fully prepared to prove just how much of a walking kitchen disaster I really am.
“No. Today I’m taking care of you. Just sit here until breakfast’s ready,” he says, taking my hand and guiding me to a chair at the kitchen island.
Take care of me.
That sounds so strange. I don’t think anyone’s ever really taken care of me before. Sure, Elias used to cook sometimes so we wouldn’t starve to death, but it always came with a price. Like me doing the laundry or some other chore around the house.
Maybe Ares has a price, too. I just need to learn what it is. But for now, I let him pamper me, even if it makes me feel a little uncomfortable, because I’m not used to it.
“You’re not here with me. What are you thinking about?” he asks, dropping some tomatoes into the frying pan along with some chopped onion, peppers, and a mix of herbs and spices.
For a moment, I think I just stare at him, unsure of what I should say. Maybe even unsure of the real answer myself. “Last night was… hard for me to talk about.” I trail off because I have the feeling it was also difficult for him to listen. “But that’s not all I was thinking about. Last night… you… the things you said about being the Devil’s son…”
How the fuck did I end up in the middle of this?
“We’ll talk about that after we eat. Breakfast’s almost ready,” he says, cracking in the eggs, adding cheese, and a few more herbs into the frying pan.
“What is that?” I ask, eyeing the dish that is unfamiliar to me.
“It’s called Shakshuka. It's something from the Middle East. I’ve traveled the world, a lot, and this is one of my favorite dishes. Mostly because it doesn’t take much time or effort,” he smiles.
He lets everything cook for a few more minutes, then sets the pan on a wooden cutting board and takes some fresh pita bread from the basket. I already know he has someone handling the supplies, because he’s not the kind to go grocery shopping. Which explains the fresh stock of... pretty much everything.
I’m starving,so I dig in, grateful I don’t have to follow any proper table manners, and that I can be myself around him, since we both end up eating directly from the pan.
I have to admit, I’m surprised how good it is, how flavorful. And I find myself wondering what hidden qualities he might have.
I so wish things were different.
We finish what I consider to be the best breakfast of my life. Or maybe I’m just saying that because I’ve been living off Pop-Tarts and cereal for the past year. Either way, I don’t remember the last time I had a meal this good.
Normally, I’d have offered to leave by now—maybe several times.
Still, I need answers, not just about what happened last night, but also about what happened to Elias. And time’s running out. Only two days left to sort things out, and I feel I’m getting nowhere. I have no idea where the next games will be, let alone how to infiltrate them.
Ares needed to make a few calls, so I darted to the bathroom to jump into the shower, hurrying to get out of there as fast as possible. He mentioned something about joining me, but I’m still not entirely comfortable with him seeing me naked.
Maybe I’ll never be. It’s not like I have time to get used to it anyway.
We’re not meant to be.
The only reason I even dare to dream is because, in the back of my mind, I have this lingering doubt that maybe he wasn’t the one who killed Elias. Maybe it was someone else in the game.
