(Dis)content (Judgement of the Six #5)

We left the room together and walked the hall side by side. The rest of the group already waited in the lobby. When they saw us, Jim was the first one out the door, all the while mumbling about starvation.

Instead of walking, we drove; and Ethan stuck with me. The Chinese buffet we pulled into didn’t surprise me. After skipping a meal, I was willing to bet the men would be ready to wolf down anything, as long as it was in quantity.

A long table in the center of the place fit us perfectly, and I found myself between Ethan and Carlos. Jim led the charge to the six buffet stations. The variety of food amazed me. They had standard Americanized Chinese fare such as beef and cashews with broccoli; they had straight up American food such as mac and cheese and chicken nuggets; then they had the atypical foods such as crawfish, eel, and shark bites. When Charlene walked past the crawfish, she shuddered. Thomas, who wasn’t far behind her, chuckled.

I didn’t blame Charlene for her shudder. Anything with eyes still in place was off the menu for me.

Plate loaded with Crab Rangoon, General Tso’s Chicken, and fried rice, I made my way back to the table. Carlos was already sitting. He barely had anything on his plate. He had a bit of rice, a bit of something that didn’t look familiar, and that was it.

I studied him as I sat. As usual, he gave nothing away.

“You sick?” I said.

He exhaled slowly and turned to look at me. His dark eyes hinted at sadness, though he continued to be an emotional void.

“No.”

“Don’t you like Chinese food?”

He glanced at his plate.

“I’m not sure I’ve had it before.”

Not had it? It wasn’t in my trinity but it was darn close.

“Then you need to start with one of these,” I said, holding up a Crab Rangoon. He didn’t even look at what I offered him, just leaned forward and took a bite while maintaining eye contact. My hand started to shake. He reached out to steady it, eating the second half in one bite. His lips brushed my fingertips.

“Thank you,” he said.

I cleared my throat before I attempted to speak.

“No problem.”

For the rest of the meal, I kept my food to myself. Slowly, the emotions of everyone else in the room started to bleed into me.

If Ethan thought I was unusually quiet, he didn’t mention it.



Grey beat me to the room, and I saw my bag on the bed with him.

“Werewolves are ridiculous,” I said before closing myself in the bathroom to change into my exercise clothes and pull my hair back. When I stepped out again, Ethan was on the opposite bed, reclined and watching TV.

“You game for a little exercise?” I asked him.

He glanced at me and gave me a reassuring smile.

“Nah, I’m going to milk it another day.”

I shook my head at him and left the room. He probably wasn’t milking it. He hadn’t asked me to rub any more ointment into his shoulder, and I was willing to bet it was because he didn’t want me to see the ugly colors his bruise was turning.

The exercise room in this hotel was almost nonexistent. The tiny room had a treadmill, an elliptical, a TV, and a Carlos. He leaned just inside the door and straightened when I walked in.

I debated turning around but knew I would regret it if I did. My skin already itched. He was here and sparring was always better than running. So I stayed.

Ethan had made a valid point before we’d eaten. Running wasn’t an option. That left tolerating these people. Most days, I didn’t tolerate well. I needed to set things straight with Carlos.

“We’ll need to be careful in here,” I said, looking around at the foot room.

He nodded and got into his ready stance. I started out slow with easy jabs. He blocked each one with an open palm. His stoic silence, both emotionally and verbally, bugged me.

“What did you think talking would accomplish?” I asked, just before I picked up the pace.

He shrugged.

“Not good enough.”

I dodged around his block and caught him in the ribs. He exhaled slightly, so I knew he felt it, but otherwise gave no other indication I’d even touched him.

“It was obviously planned,” I said as I continued with a few jabs. “I mean, you had Winifred say something to Ethan, so he wouldn’t ride in the car with us. And you said Grey wanted you to drive, so you would stay calm. Meaning, you talked to him about it beforehand. If you planned something, you had to have an expected outcome.

“So, what did you hope to accomplish?”

“Alone time.”

“We’ve had alone time. This is alone time.”

“Alone time where you weren’t angry.”

“Then you picked the wrong topic.”

He stopped blocking and straightened. I automatically stopped hitting.

“Why did it make you angry?”

“Are you kidding me? I’ve known about you people for what? Three days? You flipped out when I first met you. The girls in this group—my ‘sisters’—are all paired up with a werewolf; then, the first night Ethan and I join the merry men, Michelle comes to my room and mentions how she was attracted to Emmitt. Next, you try to start talking about ‘the pull.’ Three days. How would you react?”

“So, it has nothing to do with him?”

Melissa Haag's books