Page 82 of A Game So Reckless

I catch my heart’s thrill and stuff it back down my throat before it can take flight. Because I can’t react this way. I can’t feel even the slightest shiver of pleasure at the idea that, whatever this relationship between us is, he wants it to continue.

He wants me, and I think that he probably hates that he wants me.

But he hates the thought of losing me even more.

I teeter on the edge of accepting the terms and running from them. Because I didn’t expect him to counter like this. I didn’t expect to be standing at a fork in the road. A road that could lead me further from him than ever…

Or a road that could bind me to him.

“Deal,” I breathe, and it comes out so quiet, but it feels like thunder in the room.

After seeing Darragh’s reflexes in action before, I shouldn’t be surprised by how fast he moves, but I am. He’s on the side with the white pieces, and before I know it, one of his pawns is already in motion, sliding forward two squares. I respond with a similar move.

And the game is underway.

We don’t speak with words. We speak with our hands. With our pieces. With our push and pull of strategy. Darragh’s a damn good player.

But as the minutes tick by, it becomes clear to us both that I’m better.

If this were a boxing match, or maybe even a game of cards, I’d never stand a chance.

But this is chess. Chess, that Curse and I used to play all the time, and still sometimes do. He’s got loads of books, the younger of my two cousins. And when I got tired of slogging my way through the dictionary that one summer, his tomes on chess were some of the ones I devoured instead.

I’m winning. We both know it. Darragh is agitated, his moves growing more and more reckless, more and more of his pieces being sacrificed to my questing queen and knights.

Strangely, I don’t feel any sense of victory. I only feel an anticipatory throbbing between my legs, and a hollowness where my heart should be.

If I win, this will be my last night with him.

It should be a relief.

And maybe it is, in a way.

But it also hurts far more than I could have imagined.

For an absurd moment, I think about throwing the game. About letting him win.

Just so I can see where the hell this goes.

But that’s not what I’ve come here for. That’s not what I’ve decided. This is my choice – possibly the first real choice I’ve ever made in my life. The first one that actually means something.

I am forging my future.

A future without him in it.

“Checkmate,” I whisper.

Darragh stares at the board. Something writhes at the back of his gaze. Something trapped and feral and not quite human. But when he finally raises his eyes to mine, they’ve gone icily blank.

“Stand up,” he commands. “Take off your dress. Then come to me.”

I swallow involuntarily. This is it. No preamble, I guess. But then I curse myself for being foolish. What did I expect, offering my virginity to a crime lord in a chess match? Champagne and roses and chocolates?

No. This will be painful. This will be a claiming.

And then?

This will be over.

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