Chapter 8 Zane
ZANE
There was a time when the manor was filled with guests almost every night.
Relatives paraded through in a revolving door of love, hugs, and presents.
The parties my parents, and grandparents before them, were known for filled these halls with voices, music, and laughter.
My aunts tried to one-up one another in the kitchen.
The scents wafted in torturous trails through the house until we couldn’t stand it anymore.
Sweet, buttery breads, savory soups, and main courses so rich you’d be full until the following day.
My cousins and our friends would beg at the door for just a little taste.
I was never truly lonely, even after my parents passed away. That’s what home meant to me.
C changed all that. Of all the things he took from me, that’s the one I mourn the most. The price for my chance at revenge.
When I saw the look on Kaye’s face when she was reunited with her furry friend, I knew I had done something special. Maybe given a little piece of home back to her. And then she wrapped her arms around me and my world tilted.
She’s right to be afraid of me. I’m volatile. Dangerous. Ruthless to a fault. But there is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect what is mine. I just didn’t realize how quickly that would come to include my charming adversary.
I hadn’t realized I had decided to speak until the words had left my mouth, but I meant it when I offered Kaye my protection.
Threatening her this morning left a sour taste on my tongue.
One that was necessary, even if I’d have given anything to wash it away.
Now, her arms are around me, her tears soaking my shirt.
She darts away as soon as I begin to reach for her, eyes wide and trembling hands clasped to her chest.
My palms lower to my sides, so cold now in the absence of her warmth. I never realized how much I missed that—the comforting warmth and trust that humans give one another. We need that connection, even if we like to tell ourselves we don’t.
“How about a little tour?” I ask. “There’s something I want to show you.”
It seems like she’ll refuse. Maybe it’s all been too much for one day. Then she steps up to the challenge with something of her old spark in her eyes. “Lead the way.”
Sunlight streams through the manor’s large, open windows, casting my home in an enchanting light.
It’s that special time of day, where the soft dew of morning has not yet given way to the vibrant glare of day and every shadow carries the smallest touch of night.
The time of day filled with promise yet to come, and for just a couple hours, anything is possible.
Even as I take in this beauty, my eyes are drawn toward the companion at my side. The expression as she takes in my home and the ghosts of bruises not yet fully healed.
“How did you find this place?” Her fingers trail over a floral hand-carved into a thick, wooden banister. “It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen.”
“It belongs to a friend who used to be close with the Maxwell family.”
“Close enough to leave them their home? Must be a nice friend.”
“I know a little of the history of the home. I could share some things, if you’d like.”
Her eyes flit to mine. “Like what?”
“For one thing, this archway here separates the main house from the east addition.” Her eyes follow the point of my hand above our heads.
“It was important to the architect to maintain the gothic style the original doorway had, paying homage to the past while embracing the new. This side was used as space for the Maxwell family’s guests.
Its twin marks the family quarters to the west. Both were constructed in 1948. ”
“Does this tour include the family quarters too?”
“You want to see the family quarters?”
“Hiding something, Charade?” Long, dark lashes ghost over the crests of her cheekbones as her gaze dips to the hand-painted vase on a shallow wooden table to our left. The corners of her pink lips rise, and that familiar spark of challenge glints in her eyes.
I move into her space and she moves with me, two magnets with perfect polarity.
Something dark and ravenous starts to take control, my stance changing as I stalk toward her.
Every sense hones in on her and her alone.
Nothing is outside my scope of notice. Not the quickening rhythm of the rise and fall of her chest, the moment her pupils swallow the rich color of her honeyed eyes.
I’m attuned to her in a way I’m sure isn’t healthy, and it’s saved my ass more than once.
“Is there something you’re trying to find?”
We’re on my terrain now. Her shoulders hit the wall, and there’s suddenly nowhere left to run. Leaning forward, I brace my weight against the wall beside her.
“You don’t scare me.”
“Is that so?” My thumb grazes the arch of her cheekbone, her lips parting in a gasp.
Soft. She’s so goddamn soft. Perfectly made to sink hard edges and teeth into.
My lips skim the warm shell of her ear. “Comfy, Checkmate?”
Her scent is all around me, rich and intoxicating in a way that overrides every rational thought in my head. Her palm rises between us to rest on my chest. “Perfectly.”
“Are you going to use your powers on me?”
She shakes her head. “I’m still too weak.”
“You have a willing source right here.”
The pads of her narrow fingers press into my shirt, and I close my eyes. Wait for the sensation of her draw.
Instead, so faint I’d never hear her if we weren’t so close, she admits, “I can’t.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
Her lips, so rosy and plush, are torturously close.
I have no doubt they’re just as soft as the rest of her, that the heat of her passion would bear the hallmarks of her powers.
I wonder if she feels it, this magnetic draw.
If she drowns in it, as I do. If after all those long nights we faced each other, when her exhausted, battered body finally dropped into bed as the first light of dawn stretched in, she laid awake wondering—what if?
It would be so easy to ruin everything, but what a heavenly destruction it would be.
I push myself away, until I can no longer smell the floral notes hidden within the whorls of her spice. Kaye’s eyes slowly open, blinking against the sudden intrusion of light. The feather-light touch of her fingers over the flushed skin of her chest narrows my focus in a way I don’t like.
I knew I was attracted to Checkmate. I’ve always wanted things—and people—that I’m not supposed to have. But having her here… It’s making me reckless. I can’t afford reckless—not if we’re going after C.
“Do you like chess?” I ask. “It would be criminal not to with a name like Checkmate.”
“You are the expert on criminals.”
I shrug. “You’ve spent more time in prison that I have.”
That wipes the triumph right off her beautiful face.
“Being imprisoned by the CCP is not the same,” she spits. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed the change in subject. There must be something really juicy in those empty, dusty rooms of yours.”
She stalks into my space, all anger and pent-up emotion, and I’m more than happy to meet her. We’re nearly chest-to-chest as she looks at me with those sharp eyes. They miss nothing, and yet are so blind in all the wrong ways.
“Let’s make a wager,” I suggest. “If you win, you can poke around in the family quarters to your little, black heart’s content.”
“And if you win?”
Her breath hitches as I run my fingertips along the fine curve of her jaw. I lean in, dropping my voice an octave as her chest brushes mine. I rest my cheek against hers, her skin surprisingly cool. “I want to know how the CCP captured you.”
“No.” Her posture stiffens. “Anything else.”
“I don’t want anything else.”
Her eyes search my face, and I can’t help but wonder what she sees there. For so long, we hid from one another behind masks and threats, games and forced decisions. A rivalry, yes, but a kinship like no other.
“Why does it matter?” Her bottom lip quivers, her arms wrapping around herself.
“You’re mine.” My knuckles trace over the curve of her cheek, the shadow of a caress. “Whoever hurt you will consume their own fingers bite by boney bite, fully aware and unable to stop themselves, until they understand the price of my displeasure. Until they regret touching what belongs to me.”
Something changes in her eyes then, something hard coming into focus.
“One condition.”
“Name it.”
“Backgammon, not chess.”
“You like a bit of luck in the games you play.” A notion I could appreciate.
An ember sparks behind her eyes. “Lady Luck owes me, and it’s time for the bitch to pay.”
I take her hand and for the first time she doesn’t pull away.
My grandmother loved challenges of any type, but cards and board games were her favorites.
She would spend hours playing Rummy, Parcheesi, Yahtzee, or Risk.
No one could take a hand like she could in Texas Hold’em.
She was the one who taught us about strategy and how to turn the tides of luck to your favor, no matter the roll of the dice or the lay of the cards.
She loved it so much that she dedicated a room to it.
A room that remained her refuge until she passed from this world.
An ocean of memories greets me as I open the door, its tidal pull sweeping me out to sea.
Of rainy afternoons and winter days, teas sipped in the massive armchairs by the fire.
Of boards set up between us and plates of buttery cookies close at hand.
A layer of dust coats it all now. It rises like a cloud as I wipe the surfaces clean.
“You don’t come here often.” Kaye palms the white cue on the billiard table. The dust parts like the Red Sea as it sinks perfectly into a corner pocket. I bet she’s a crack shot at that too.
“Who would I have played with?” My back is to her as I bend to rifle through a chest filled with games, but I hear the satisfying whoosh as she sinks into one of the chairs. “George is a sore loser. I like my balls where they are, thank you.”
The sound of her laugh warms straight through my bones.
She chose my favorite seat, the one facing the gardens just beyond the smoky, lead-paned glass.
As I sink down into the soft, cracked leather of the chair my grandmother always preferred, I can almost smell the sweet floral scent of her magnolia perfume.
She would have loved Kaye, would have devoured every sordid detail of our feud like she devoured her favorite Agatha Christie novels.
The mystery of Checkmate.
She would have solved it long ago, and never let me live it down.
I feel her eyes upon me as I prop the case on the table between us. I trail my fingers lazily over its soft, lacquered surface, all satin wood and ebony. The clasps open with a soft snick, then the elongated triangles jutting out from either side in alternating colors unfurl. “What’s your poison?”
She starts placing the light pieces on the board.
“Typical.” Though if I’m being honest, I’ve always preferred to play as the darker color in any set. This one is jade, while Kaye’s pips are white marble with gray veins running through them.
She sets up her pieces with a practiced hand, then we roll to see who will play first.
“You realize that you’re going to have to tell me something real at some point, right?” The dice tumble out of her hand and she moves her pieces accordingly, making an anchor outside of her base with one set and another outside mine with the other.
I move one of my pieces past all of hers and into my home board. “That’s a risk I can’t take just yet.”
“Isn’t that the whole reason I’m here?”
There are so many reasons. I should hate her. Maybe I did once, but that feeling seems to have burned out somewhere in the last few months. When she disappeared, I dreaded starting every day knowing it could be the first of many without her light in it.
It’s my turn again and with her concentration on our conversation, she has left one of her pieces open. I manage to roll just what I need to land on it.
She rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Her legs cross toward me, torso leaned forward with her chin resting in the palm of her hand. Her fingers touch her bottom lip as her eyes lock on mine. Heaven help me, but she’s fucking gorgeous. “You just made a very big mistake.”