Page 22 of Maksim

Leaning against the counter, I twist off my beer cap and take a swig.

I didn’t expect her to leave the basement.

Not today. Eventually, I knew she would cave, surrendering to the tiniest comfort that is the human companionship of a house full of apes, but today, I expected her to be stubborn.

What a nice surprise.

Fox crouches next to Elira and pats her leg. “Hey baby, pause for a second.”

I watch her muscles contract. She was already a little tense, but the contact makes her uneasy. Or pissed. Or maybe she just doesn’t like being called baby.

His hand is on her the whole time it takes for her to scoot from underneath the table, a scrub brush in her grasp, but he finally pulls his hand away when she recoils from him. Her pinched expression makes me smile, but she doesn’t outright glare at Fox.

She does, however, glare at me.

What the fuck did I do?

Fox carefully takes Elira’s hand and leads her to the counter where the macaroni box is. He lifts the box to rattle it a few times. “Food.” He says it loud and enunciated like he’s speaking to a hard of hearing toddler who’s never seen dried pasta.

I snort. This is fucking rich.

He stirs an imaginary spoon in a pot. “Cook. Food.” His finger stabs at the box. “Food.” More stirring. “Cook.”

I cover my mouth as I laugh, expecting Elira to throw another glare my way, but she doesn’t. She stares at Fox with eyes convincingly blank.

His head falls in defeat as he lets out a dramatic sigh.

“I’ll try,” I say, setting my beer on the counter and taking the macaroni box. “Give me a minute.”

He grabs a beer from the fridge and makes an expression that shows his doubt. “Good luck.”

I watch him walk from the kitchen before turning back to Elira, my lips stretched, but she isn’t looking at me, doesn’t even seem to register that I’m here. She sets the scrub brush in the sink then goes to the table and pulls a bucket of water from beneath it.

She was seriously scrubbing the floor.

What the fuck?

She pours out the brown water into the sink, then goes about rinsing it.

“You know, you don’t have to do that.”

No answer.

“Elira.”

She tosses me a look like a silent plea for me to shut the fuck up. She really doesn’t want people to know that she can understand them.

It’s smart, I’ll give her that. The less people think she can understand, the more they’ll say in front of her. It’s how she knew I’d try to kill her. It’s how she fooled me so well.

I’d put an end to it if I didn’t think it was cute.

The video game starts blaring again, and I shift her way. “They can’t hear.”

When she goes to put more soap in the bucket, I take her hips and spin her around to face me.

Her eyes widen with fear that eases my grip on her waist, but I don’t pull away. I can smell her this close, and the scent has me leaning in even closer, which is ironic with how repugnant she was just yesterday.

I breathe in.