The Death Games

by Vannah Summers

  I paced the floor, leaving tracks in the shaggy rug. “Yeah, I’m fine. She was waiting in there when I got back yesterday.” My fingers found my hair and tugged at the curls in frustration. “She got all up in my face, talking about mice and hellhounds and…”

  Grant scowled. “But you’re okay? She didn’t hurt you?”

  “No, not exactly.” I stopped pacing and glanced at him. I just needed to say it and get it over with. “She threatened you.”

  His frown deepened. “Then why did she go to your room?”

  “How the fuck should I know? One minute I’m walking into my room, and the next, I’m stuck listening to the crazy bitch drone on and on about mice.” Nibbling on my fingernail, I watched his reaction. “She basically said if I got in her way of winning, she’d target me. And you.”

  Grant snorted and relaxed into the couch cushions. “I’m not afraid of Natalia, Lea.”

  Rubbing my hands down my arms, I sat on the far end of the couch. “Yeah, well, you wouldn’t be. You could crush her skull with your thighs.”

  With a smack to his forehead, he groaned. “My thighs? Really?”

  I shrugged, unrepentant. “What? Don’t act like you couldn’t.”

  Releasing a loud breath through his nose, he shrugged. “If you’re worried about her, we’ll just be more careful.” He leaned back against the armrest with his hands linked behind his neck. “Her threats don’t scare me. If anythin’, they make me feel better.”

  I blanched. “What sort of masochistic freak are you? Who likes being threatened?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I just meant if she’s threatenin’ us, it means she sees us a threat to her win. Which basically means she thinks there’s a high chance we could beat her and the rest of the group.”

  My mouth opened several times to respond, but no words escaped. I hadn’t thought of it that way. But now that Grant mentioned it, it was impossible not to see it. Why, out of all of the contestants, would she target us? Was it because we scared her?

  “You might be right.” The tension in my shoulders relaxed marginally. “You might actually be fucking right.”

  He grinned wearily, his face drooping from lack of sleep. “Of course I am. So, stop your worryin’ and go to bed. She can’t hurt you outside of the games, and in the games, you’ll have me.”

  His words warmed my heart and blanketed the fear boiling under my skin. “We’ll have each other,” I said, and his smile broadened.

  “You’re right. We’ll have each other.”

  “For what it’s worth”—I stared down at my hands, bashful in this moment of honesty—“I think we make a pretty great team.”

  Either my awkward prediction made him uncomfortable or he wanted to alleviate my nerves as he reclined into the back of the couch and said, “No, I would make a great team. You have nothin’ to offer.”

  Scrambling over the couch, I smacked his bare chest, choosing to ignore the enjoyable feel of his muscles beneath my hand. “You dick! That’s not at all true. I’m an excellent partner in crime. Remember? I saved your life like a zillion times that first challenge.” My pout morphed into a smug grin as Grant blustered weak denials. “Plus, I make excellent team spirit banners.”

  We shared soft snickers, and my stomach bubbled in contentment as he slouched down into the couch and closed his eyes. “Okay, okay. So don’t let Natalia control us, but we lay low?”

  I studied the lines of consternation in his brow, the annoyed set to his mouth, and nodded. “Yeah, we lay low.”

  And that was exactly what we did. In common areas, specifically the training center, Grant and I kept a respectable distance. I continued helping him improve his shooting skills as he taught me hand-to-hand combat, but even in those moments, we adopted a professional air between us. It was irritating but, to a certain extent, necessary. I hoped Natalia bought it.

  In more private moments, we hung out like two friends at summer camp. We explored the forested grounds and tried to sneak into the higher levels of the building. No one ate collectively anymore, so instead of taking meals in the dining hall, we feasted in one of our rooms.

  At six o’clock on the nose, we’d meet at one of our suites and eat together while we watched Netflix. Sometimes, we played card games. Grant beat me at poker every time, but I was the master of Go Fish. All in all, the next five days were the happiest of my death.

  But in the back of my mind, the reminder remained, nagging at me in the wee hours of the night as I lay awake in my bed. One winner. One lonely victor.

  One way or another, our alliance wouldn’t last. There was a chance I would have to look at the man I was falling head over ass for in the eyes while I slit his throat. Funny how surrendering to Death didn’t sound so bad, anymore.

  Chapter 13

  Bigfoot and Other Myths

  Five minutes to six, there was a rap on my bedroom door, and, cracking it open, I warily peeked out. Logically, there was no reason to expect Natalia to appear, but one couldn’t be too careful. Grant and I had put on a good show, remaining cool without fully bowing to Natalia’s threats. But it would be a lie if I said she didn’t make me nervous.

  Thankfully, the person on the other side of the door was not Natalia. It was Grant, a cart laden with food in his hold. Good. After working myself half to death in training today, I was starving.

  With a smirk, I opened the door wide. “Thank you, garçon. Leave the cart there before you leave.”

  He rolled his eyes as he pushed the cart inside, savory smells wafting from the covered dishes. “Kiss my Italian mafia ass, green.”

  I chortled as he crossed the room. I hesitated at the door before inconspicuously locking the handle. It wasn’t to lock us in together, but more to lock scary things out. Hopefully, he wouldn’t notice and think me creepy.

  Stopping by the coffee table, he unloaded the plates one by one, and I eyed each one suspiciously as I took a seat on the couch. Meat swimming in a thick, brown sauce was piled on one plate while cubes of something gray were tossed on another. It wasn’t the most appetizing meal, but nothing in the Afterlife had tasted all that great.

  Grant sat beside me on the couch, his pajama-clad thigh brushing mine. “All right, Your Highness, dig in.”

  “Oh, you’re not going to serve me? I expected palm fronds for shade as you hand fed me peeled grapes. How you disappoint me.” I winked as I loaded my plate with peach-colored rice then smothered it with gravy and colorful cubes of vegetables.

  Unamused, Grant poked my side hard, and I spilled brown sauce onto the coffee table. “Used to a life of luxury in Bumfuck, Kansas, huh?”

  “Hey, watch your mouth!” I feigned a glare as he helped himself to the weird food. “Bumfuck, Kansas ain’t half bad.”

  We laughed as we relaxed on the couch, scooping bites of the shockingly flavorful gravy into our mouths. The rice was slightly sweet, but it complemented the thick sauce.

  “This might be the best meal I’ve had since dying,” I said through a mouthful of food.

  Grant grimaced. “Lose your manners along with your taste buds?” I waggled my tongue, my half-chewed food almost dropping out of my mouth, and he recoiled as a few chunks splattered in his direction. “The fuck’s wrong with you? That’s gross!”

  Cackling, I proceeded to eat the rest of the meal with my fingers, and he shook his head in revulsion as I licked my thumb clean. “Come on, Boston, loosen up. We’re dead. Manners don’t mean shit.”

  “I may be a corpse, but I can still be a refined, dignified corpse.”

  “With an accent like that, you can be neither refined nor dignified.”

  “Says the hick from Bumfuck, Kansas!” He playfully shoved my shoulder, effectively spilling the remaining gravy from my plate onto my sweatpants.

  With a scandalized cry, I gathered the spilled sauce and smeared it on his cheek. The look he sent me heated my stomach in the best, yet worst way.

  “Oh, green.” His voice dropped to a deep purr. “You’r
e gonna regret that.”

  Simultaneously terrified and excited at the dark promise in his eyes, I bolted from the couch, but my flight was short lived. He captured me around the waist almost immediately, but he lost his footing. We crashed in a mass of tangled limbs on the carpet.

  “Shit!” I moaned as his weight crushed me for the briefest of moments, but he lifted himself up onto his elbows to allow me breathing room.

  Of course, that was all the consideration he offered. He attacked my sides, and I shrieked with the most humiliating type of laughter as he tickled me. Sure, most people weren’t cute when they were tickled, but they could still manage a certain amount of dignity. I was not one of them.

  My face would bleed red as a tomato, and I’d break into an unhealthy sweat. Snorting, wailing, and excessive amounts of saliva were all very real possibilities. I begged and pleaded for him to stop, but he didn’t. He tickled me until I couldn’t breathe, and it wasn’t until tears leaked from my eyes as I succumbed to the inevitable pig snorts that his fingers stilled.

  Grant gazed down at me with eyes wide as dinner plates, his expression pure glee. I groaned in mortification as he roared with laughter. He laughed in a way I’d never heard before, free and full, and his gorgeous smile almost made up for the fact I was practically foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog.

  “Oh my God, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a human make those sounds.” He captured my wrists as I tried to punch him and trapped them above my head.

  “Well, it’s your fault, you asshat.”

  I struggled beneath his weight to no avail, begging my overly-excited cock not to harden as he loomed over me, trapping me with a playful expression. My flushed skin was too hot, and his proximity wreaked havoc on my poor hormones. I loved the weight of him grounding me, holding me hostage, but I couldn’t let him know that. The moment he caught wind of my boner, things would get awkward.

  “Let me up, dickwad.” I bared my teeth with a growl, and Grant snickered, settling on my hips more firmly. I bit back a groan.

  “Nah, I think I like you like this.” He winked, and my fight evaporated. Wait… what?

  Before I could comment, he rose in one smooth move, and I curled into a ball to hide my now prominent erection. Was he purposefully teasing me right now? Douche.

  With a smug smirk, he returned to the couch and finished his meal, completely unperturbed by our exchange as he lazed against the cushions. Once I was no longer sporting wood, I rose and mumbled an excuse about needing to piss. He tracked my movements across the room, and I swallowed heavily as I escaped to the bathroom, relieved as the door shut between us.

  I used the toilet, brushed my teeth, then splashed my face with cool water, studying my flushed reflection for a moment before grunting. “Get it together, you idiot,” I hissed at myself. “Keep it in your damn pants!”

  When I left the safety of the bathroom, Grant stacked our empty dishes back on the cart, and I wheeled it into the hallway. On my return, I froze at the sight of Grant lounging on my bed, perfectly at ease as he scooped something red, fruity, and—judging from the scent in the air—sweet into his mouth. The TV played a rerun of some Animal Planet show, and he watched with rapt attention.

  Approaching the bed, I craned my neck to investigate his choice in television program only to bark out a laugh. “What the… are you seriously watching Finding Bigfoot?”

  Grant lifted a dark brow and nodded. “Hell yes. Bigfoot totally exists.”

  “Along with aliens and Lochness?” I mocked.

  He nodded again, stone-faced. “Yes.”

  Within the last few days, I’d never suspected Grant liked this kind of show. We usually watched Family Guy or The Office. Yet, here he was, captivated by the idea of Bigfoot.

  Warily, I sat on the mattress and frowned. “For real?”

  “The universe is vast and immeasurable. The Mariana Trench is so deep, most scientific instruments can’t make it to the bottom.” He offered me his spoon, the jiggly red dessert wiggling in invitation. “About 65% of the Earth is still unexplored, and you want to tell me that you believe we’re the only intelligent life out there? That we, as humans, know all there is to know? Bull-fuckin’-shit.”

  His spoon touched my lips, and I opened my mouth on instinct. The jello-like substance was tart yet sugary, and I rolled the bite around on my tongue, tasting raspberry and lemon.

  “I mean, I guess that’s true.” I crawled onto the bed and made myself comfortable. Cautiously, I kept a small amount of space between our bodies, just in case my overeager dick decided to wake again. “I just figured that if Bigfoot exists, people would have found him by now.”

  “These people have.” He pointed to the TV, and I fought the urge to mock him again.

  “Maybe.”

  “Whatevah.” He stressed his accent and offered me another bite of his gelatin dessert, and I accepted with a smile. His eyes locked on my lips as I enveloped his spoon, but he refocused on the television before I could decipher his expression.

  And that was how Grant and I ended up binge-watching Finding Bigfoot until the sky outside my windows blackened. Stars sparkled outside, the constellations unfamiliar, and my tired eyes drooped.

  At some point, I burrowed under the covers, no longer worried about propriety as Grant used the bathroom. With only the TV lighting the room, I blinked blearily at the screen as I snuggled beneath the blanket.

  I figured he’d return to his own room, but he didn’t. Instead, he climbed back into my bed, joining me under the covers, and propped his head up with his arm. As the credits scrolled, I closed my eyes. I just wanted to rest them for a moment until the next episode began, but the minute they shut, I was unable to open them again.

  Exhausted, I squirmed toward the warmth permeating the other side of the bed, and when I met a hard, hot surface, I sighed. My nose pressed to evergreen-scented fabric, and strong arms wrapped around my shoulders as I floated away, more comfortable than I could ever remember being, even when I was alive.

  I woke to the smell of evergreen and hot breath puffing through the frizzy curls above my ear. The heat of the body next to me was borderline uncomfortable, but I couldn’t have escaped if I tried. Sometime in the night, I fell victim to thick, long limbs and was now trapped in a python grip with my face smashed into someone’s neck.

  Comfortable and warm, I snuggled into the embrace and smiled when the toned arms cradling my body tightened. It had been a long time since I had cuddled with someone, and I soaked in the soothing touch.

  Drifting in the no-man’s land between sleep and awake, I listened to the soft snores vibrating against my nose. A thigh shifted between my legs, and I inhaled sharply as my morning wood pressed against the firm muscle. With a whimper, I wiggled closer, straining for relief to the sudden need bubbling in my veins.

  Someone grunted as strong fingers spanned my hip, squeezing as if to stop me, and I whined in frustration. The evergreen in my nose combined with the desperate want, and I needed… something.

  “Don’t start somethin’ you can’t finish, green,” a Boston accent husked in my ear, and the heavy sleep smothering my brain vanished instantly.

  My eyes shot open, my vision filling with Grant’s Adam’s apple, and I jerked away from him with an unattractive squeal. As my legs caught in the sheet, my flailing threw me off balance. I rolled right off the bed and landed on the floor with a bone-jarring crash.

  “Shit, Lea, you okay?” Grant leaned over the edge of the bed, his eyes puffy from sleep. But that boyish grin spread his lips, and a moment later, he burst into deep chuckles. “You look ridiculous.”

  With a face hot as a skillet, I glowered spitefully, curling my legs to hide the mortifying morning erection still happy inside my sweatpants. “Oh, fuck off, Boston! What the hell are you doing in my bed, anyhow?”

  Flopping onto the bed, he made himself comfortable in my blankets, not a care in the world. “Fell asleep watching TV.”

  “And the early-mo
rning molestation?”

  He rumbled with mirth. “Says the one humping my leg like a dog in heat.”

  Humiliated, tired, and—much to my chagrin—horny, I rose to my feet, fuming. “Sometimes, you can be a grade-A asshole, you know that?”

  “Wait, Lea!”

  I charged to the bathroom, intent on slamming the door hard enough to break the windows. Maybe then, the wind would sweep in and hurl Grant off the sixteenth floor. Poetic justice.

  But I never got the chance. His arms trapped me, hugging me from behind as I struggled. He didn’t release me. He held me until I stopped fighting, and only then did he loosen his grip.

  His stubble scratched my ear as he spoke against my cheek. “I’m sorry, alright? I shouldn’t have teased you. Stop bein’ dramatic.”

  “I’ll show you dramatic,” I threatened, and he smiled into my hair.

  “Lea, it’s mornin’. I’m a guy. I get it.”

  My face broiled, but the sincerity in his tone eased my embarrassment. “Well, when you’re lying in bed with a hot guy, what do you expect?”

  The beat of silence following my roundabout compliment charged expectantly, and I inhaled sharply when his lips ghosted over my ear. “I think I like you complimentin’ me.”

  “Don’t get used to it.”

  His chortle buzzed through my body as he freed me from the prison of his arms. “For what it’s worth, green,”—he dropped his voice to a sexy purr as his hands framed my hips—“you ain’t too bad yourself.”

  “W-What?”

  As I took back my weight, my knees almost gave out, but Grant didn’t catch me this time. He brushed past, entering the bathroom as I attempted to remain standing, and when he faced me, his eyes were burning coals, searing me even at a distance. A terrifying smile tipped his lips as he swung the door shut.

  At the last second, he peeked through the crack in the door, his eyes dropping to my crotch. “You might want to take care of that.”

  I glanced down at the obvious tent in my pajama pants and yelped, covering it with my hands as Grant shut the door with a boisterous laugh.