Chapter 8: Ruger

Chapter Eight

Ruger

I watch Zayna’s face, waiting for her to say something to me. I’m hoping she doesn’t push me away. But she does. Of course.

“If you want to see a black woman, go watch some porn,” she says disdainfully.

She has a gleam in those dark eyes like she’s trying to start some shit. But I don’t find her slice of attitude this time amusing in the slightest. There’s no place for pornography between the two of us. Between me and any woman. Acting quickly, I lean forward and spit on the ground at Zayna’s rude ass suggestion.

She flinches, because it’s obviously fucking nuts to spit on the floor, and maybe she thinks I’ll give her another hand necklace. I like watching her flinch and squirm, especially when she sneers at the wad of spit. Her first clean up job tomorrow.

“I don’t watch that shit,” I say to Zayna, making sure she can see that I am dead fucking serious about every word coming out of my mouth. “Relationships and sex are meant to be cherished. Private. Special. Intimate.”

I close more distance between us. She might be filthy. She might have the wrong color skin for me. But every time I get closer to this woman, my dick gets hard. So fucking hard that I wonder if I am attracted to her. Zayna rolls her eyes, even if I mean everything I said. When I love a woman, my eyes exist only for her.

God made it quite clear in the good book. Even looking at another woman after promising yourself to another is adultery. Plain and simple. I hold myself to those standards and expect the same treatment in return. Darlene knew my beliefs when she agreed to marry me. My whole fucking family was right about that woman.

Zayna keeps looking at me all fierce and upset, like she’s trying to think of what to say next. The best thing she comes up with is a single, disinterested word.

“Whatever.”

“I’m serious,” I tell her, heat flowing just beneath my skin as I stifle the urge to threaten Zayna with all manner of torture if I catch her looking or thinking about another man. (I can explain the rules to her later.)

“Okay. Great,” Zayna replies sassily. “That doesn’t mean you need to see me naked.”

My cock swells uncomfortably in my pants and I want to grab Zayna by that thick head of hair and drag her ass into the shower. But I can’t. Not if I want to get what I want. Still, I can’t let Zayna get away with too much sass.

“You’re here and you have the skin color I want to see.”

She folds her arms over her chest which feels like I’m getting further away from my goals. Even if I’m close to her, she doesn’t budge. She doesn’t give me the slightest bit of affection or kindness in her gaze. It’s just pure anger.

“You’re racist,” she says with this flat tone of realization.

I find the accusation highly irritating. But I can’t let her know that she’s getting under my skin, because what I know about Zayna so far… she’ll enjoy it.

“You get to be the judge of that?” I try to look like I’m teasing her. Like I feel happy-go-lucky about everybody’s obsession with race. Why does my curiosity make me a villain? I was truthful. I want to see her naked.

Zayna is quick with it. “I’m black, so yes.”

“Okay. Well you’re racist towards me,” I throw back at her.

There it is. Anger. I feel like I’m winning.

“Huh?”

“I’m white. So I can say if you’re offending white people.”

Despite my certainty that I have thrown Zayna off with my logic, she just sounds disappointed. “You are such a sicko.”

“Huh?” What the hell did I say that made me a sicko? I push my tongue along the inside of my mouth, thrusting down all my irritation with her.

“Listen to me and stop trying to win the argument,” Zayna says.

Win the argument? I’m not trying–

Zayna claps her hand in front of my face. Startling my ass.

“Hey!” she yells. “I can already see your ass thinking of your next comeback.”

Heat warms my ears. Did this woman just yell at me? Part of me wants to smack her across the damn face, but… I’m fascinated that she feels comfortable clapping and yelling at me. So I’ll give her a minute.

“I’m listening.”

Her little display of aggression is truly out of place but… I really want to see where the hell she’s going with this.

She spews out words like I just took my finger off an open wound. Zayna just hisses at me. “It’s weird. The way you look at me. The way you talk. The way you said dirt.”

“Christ. Now I can’t tell you when you stink to high hell?”

“STOP TRYING TO WIN THE ARGUMENT.”

She bursts out with pure anger. I don’t want to stifle it… I want it to grow. I push my tongue around the inside of my mouth. I’m going to get this woman naked – I know that. I can feel that. I know it’s dangerous, especially tonight. But her anger is fucking hot.

Don’t know why her yelling works on me. Honestly.

“Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll stop.”

She seems taken aback. Like she expected me to smack the shit out of her for that disrespectful ass yelling. I made a promise when I heard Eden’s first cries to control my violence – to be strong and protective, but to stay away from going too far. If I hadn’t been so high on violence, maybe Darlene would have survived. I don’t know if it’s guilt, exactly. It just could have gone another way.

“It’s an instinct, Ruger. You make me uncomfortable. You say things that are just… off.”

I don’t want to argue, but how can I resist defending myself? Zayna has unrealistic expectations.

“I never said the n-word in front of you,” I remind her, since I truly have been on my best behavior.

Angry bird face comes back. What the fuck did I say wrong!?

“But you have said it?!”

“You want me to lie?” I ask her calmly. Her eyes flicker with pure anger. Race gets those people so upset. But she asked me to stop arguing with her and… I’m curious about what she’ll say. Tamiya would have clawed my eyes out by now. Every time I say something… they just want to fight.

“Right,” Zayna says, “When you were singing along to a rap song. Probably that Kanye and Jay-Z song about gentlemen in Paris?”

It’s hard not to laugh at Zayna trying to explain away my use of the n-word.

“No. When I was insulting someone for being black.”

She flinches again, although she does a much better job at hiding it this time.

“Exactly. I don’t want your Ku Klux Klan ass watching me bathe,” Zayna says. She seems very proud of herself. Even if I don’t understand what the fuck she’s saying.

“What the hell is the Ku Klux Klan?”

Okay. Angry bird face gone. This woman looks like she wants to crack my nuts between her back teeth.

“Stop fucking around.”

“I’m not.”

Zayna continues, still outraged. “You’re not an idiot. You’ve heard of the KKK.”

“That’s what it stands for?”

“I’m going to search this house for robes. I don’t care how much you play dumb,” Zayna mutters.

“Jesus…”

I’ll need Jesus to deal with this woman. I can tell. From the back chat, to the way she smiled when I put my hands around her neck… My head is too foggy and confused with concerns about Eden. I’m missing something about this woman. Something big.

There’s something wrong with her crazy ass and you know it.

She just keeps staring. I hate that I’m so fascinated with her. If it weren’t for that, I would have smacked her around a little, maybe. I would have done something reckless. I would have done something that would absolutely violate this woman. I’m trying to stay strong. Engage her little arguments, do what I can to get her naked with at the very least her consent.

But the more she pushes, the more I wonder if it’s just not meant to be.

“What do you want me to say?” I ask her. My heart starts pounding a disturbing thrum against my chest. I want to do something right – just to get her ass naked in the shower. Just to see what she looks like with that dark skin… Is it the same color all over? And what about her tits and ass…

Unfortunately, Zayna has a good fucking read of my mind. Goddamn it.

“I’m not showing my ass to a racist,” Zayna says. She’s dull. Emotionless. But I can tell she means it and she might claw my fucking eyes out if I try anything. Hm.

“What about your tits?” I ask. “Can I see those?”

I try to ask her in a calm manner to get my way. But that doesn’t work either. Turning away from violence appears to be a mistake already.

“I’ll smack you,” Zayna says. She smiles, like she wants to. Like she’s excited that she might get the chance.

Hm. No way this woman gets a one-up on me. I shrug my shoulders, like I couldn’t care less about seeing her ass naked.

“Fine,” I tell her. “I’ll set out some clothes for you. Towels in the bathroom closet. Take your damn shower. I’ll leave your ass alone. For now.”