Page 22 of Chess

Chess

Over the next several days, Chess had gone with Ever for supplies three times but never for more than an hour. It was too risky with him having killed Ari. Chess couldn’t say he was sorry for murdering her—she’d been friends with his mother and was a decent fuck, but she’d also clung to him like bad cologne, always wanting more. More attention, more pleasure, morehim, though he wasn’t sure if she ever actually liked him or if she liked his position of power—as small as it was. Either way, he didn’t have to worry about her anymore. Hedidhave to worry about Rav trying to hunt her down now though. With Ari gone, he would be searching for her and whoever made her disappear. And he wouldn’t be alone. Apparently, he’d recruited his mother’s friends, including Anna. Anna who could’ve passed for Imogen’s sister. Chess knew if he saw her it would stir up memories of his mother that he’d rather leave buried.

“Don’t think too hard. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” Ever quipped from where she sat on the floor, recounting their supplies. Guns had been impossible to find on short notice, but they had retrieved one more dagger for her collection and raided the blood bank.

Chess snorted, twisting the strings of the hoodie he’d stolen, and watched Ever carefully as she loaded her backpack, not sparing him a glance. He couldn’t help thinking about the way Ari’s appearance made him feel. Nervous, yes, because maybe Rav was right behind him, and then pissed because she could have blown his lie out of the water. But it was the rush of adrenaline urging him to protect Ever that irritated him. He’d hunted her for years to kill her.Protect her?Never. He huffed and turned his attention to the supplies still spread out neatly on the ground.

Seventeen blood bags, the three guns Ever already owned with a box of silver bullets, and four daggers. She’d packed two wigs into her backpack already—one with brown curls, another a dark bob—plus a change of clothes for them both.

“Are the costumes really necessary?” he asked.

“They’redisguises, and do you really need to ask? Ari spotted you easily enough.”

“Point taken,” he grumbled. Ari had followed him with no trouble because he was so focused on Ever.Damn.He really needed to step up his game.

“Here.” Ever tossed a blond wig at him. “I cut this into a style just for you.”

Chess snatched the wig in the air and scowled. “I don’t think this is my color.”

“It’s fit for a vampire prince.” Ever grinned, seeming to know that the wig looked like shit. “Try it on and stop complaining.”

“Demanding thing, aren’t you?” Chess purred, slipping the wig over his chestnut hair, not bothering to tuck any strands beneath. “What do you think?”

“It will do.” She pursed her lips in what appeared to be an attempt not to laugh.

Chess reached for a hand mirror beside the mattress. Looking at his reflection, his eyes widened in horror. Stringy strands hung down his neck and back while choppier spikes rested on top. “What the fuck is this atrocity?”

“I believe the mortals call it a mullet.”

“No.” Chess ripped the wig from his head and glowered at it. “I’ve seen stylish mullets andthis… this is an insult.”

Ever batted her long lashes innocently at him. “No one could ever accuse you of being unstylish, Princeling, which makes it the perfect disguise.”

“Yeah, fuck that,” he grumbled and lunged for the scissors on the other side of the room.

“Don’t you dare,” Ever shouted, and leapt onto his back. “The whole point is to make you look different. Rememberyouwere the one who was spotted the other night.”

He grunted as her weight shoved him to the floor on his stomach. “Trust me, I’ll look plenty different with this baggy-arse hoodie. The bad mullet is vetoed, Queenie.” Everyone had their limits and he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that wig.

“We don’t have time for you to fix it,” she huffed, her warm breath brushing his ear. He shivered inwardly at the soft caress of it.

Chess rolled beneath her so she was straddling his abdomen, his fingers at her hips. It closely reminded him of the position they were in the other night. He imagined himself slowly slipping into her heat as she rolled her supple body forward. “We have time,” he rasped. “Plenty of time, in fact, if you’re interested in finishing what we started on the second floor of the club.” He lifted a hand from her hips and traced her lips with his fingers, surprised when she didn’t shove him away.

Ever drew in a sharp breath, her eyes flicking to his mouth. Then she snatched the wig from the floor and pushed herself up. “Time to go, Princeling.”

Chess missed the weight of her on top of him. Damn, he needed a release—preferably by her hands. Or better yet, her mouth. Those perfect lips would undoubtedly feel like bliss running down his hard shaft. He eased his upper body up to lean on his elbows and watched her shove everything into her bag with a smirk on his face. She had considered his offer to continue, if only for half a moment. Which meant she had to want him too … wanted him to taste every inch of her, touch, tease, fill her up and wring out every drop of pleasure. The question was how much? Enough to have a tumble despite the loathing she harbored for him? The possibility felt a little closer every day they spent together. For once, he was glad he failed at assassinating her in the past.

Ever swung her bag over her shoulder and fished the key from her pocket. “Up, up,” she urged, motioning for him to stand. “We’re losing the night.”

Chess’s grin widened. “It’s barely midnight.”

“Yes, well…” She blew out a breath. “We’re leaving. That’s an order.”

“Oh?” Chess was on his feet the next moment, moving fluidly until he was standing an inch from her. Taking her chin between his fingers, he laughed. “You may be a queen, but you are notmyqueen. Unless, of course, you’d like to be. Once I reclaim Scarlet, of course.”

She stilled, her lips parting, her eyes widening at his words. They stared at each other for a moment too long before she batted his hand away and scurried up the ladder.

Chess stayed rooted to the spot. Had he really just suggested she become his wife? He’d meant to make her uncomfortable, to put her in her place and show how she couldn’t control him. But he wouldnevertake her as a queen—in fact, he would never take a queen at all. There were too many souls out there left to ravage in his bed to let just one vampire lay claim to it. He shook his head. She took it as intended—as a bad joke.

---