4. 4 – Alyss
4 – Alyss
M y hands slam into the glass.
Chess’s voice is hard. “Don’t fucking move.”
My pulse is pounding as I stand there, frozen. I’m still wearing Hatter’s scent, still reeling from waking up this morning only to find myself alone. I reached for him, my lips curving and my eyes still closed, to find a cold space beside me.
At least he had the decency to leave me a note, scribbled on the notepad I keep beside my bed.
I’m sorry. – A
Not a trace of him to be seen - nothing but the note, and apparently a card to the place I’ve been hunting down for months . A card Chess is now holding hostage as he runs his hands over my body.
I need that damn card.
“I said, don’t move.” His hand slaps firmly against my ass. “You can’t be fucking trusted to take care of yourself, so don’t throw shade at me when I do it for you.”
I scoff, my heart hammering. “You call this taking care of me?”
I choke as his fingers slide into me again, spearing me. “Yeah. In more ways than one.”
I hate him. Hate him.
Chess keeps his fingers inside me as his other hand runs over my skin. Assessing every mark, pretending to punish me while checking me over, and my heart twists and pounds inside my chest, guilt rising.
This is torture for him. We both know it.
For six months, we’ve fought and we’ve fucked, in that order. The relationship we used to have lies in ruins alongside the scattered ashes of Adam’s body.
Refusing to let him in, but refusing to let him move on. Holding him over a ledge, punishing him, punishing myself.
I can’t remember the last time I saw Chess smile. A true smile, not the sarcastic grin he wields like a weapon.
This is the first time I’ve gone to somebody other than him.
Too far. I went too far this time.
I swallow, my eyes closing. Because I can’t bring myself to regret it either, to regret the time that I spent with Hatter last night.
It matters , he said to me. Don’t tell me it doesn’t matter.
It did matter. There was something precious there, something to treasure, but he left me anyway without a goodbye, without any way to contact him.
I should be used to it by now.
Everyone I care about leaves me.
And Chess – he’s going to leave me too. I’m going to drive him too far one day soon, push him one too many times, and he’ll be gone.
I almost wish he’d get it over with, as much as I dread the day it inevitably happens.
Chess is still behind me, still holding me on his hand, his fingers buried inside me. His voice is a plea. “Tell me to stop, Lyss.”
My face crumples as I stare out of the glass. The tears spill over, where he can’t see them, but I swallow down the shaking in my voice. “No.”
He yanks his fingers free, and I cry out as his cock enters me in one, deep thrust.
“Damn you.” He punctuates his words with a second thrust. A third. “Damn you, Alyss.”
My nails cling to that glass, my body bucking beneath him as Chess pounds into me. His fingers grip my hips, exactly where Hatter held me, as if he knows .
“ Tell me ,” he says hoarsely. “Did he fuck you like this? Did he know the exact spots you like to be touched, Lyss? Did you show him the places I touch you?”
One hand slides up, over my ribs, cupping my breasts. “You were fucking made for me, and you gave my pussy away to a damn stranger?”
I shouldn’t grow hot at his words, shouldn’t become impossibly wetter as he holds me in place and fucks me as though he’s entitled to it. As though he does own me. “We’re not together.”
“Like fuck we aren’t.” I cry out as he reaches around to pinch my clit, tugging it between his fingers without losing pace. “Pretend as much as you want, Alyss, but you’re mine .”
My orgasm is a fucking freight train that rips through my body, leaving me limp. Chess’s arm bands around me, holding me in place as he fucks me through it, my hands trembling badly against the glass.
“Chess,” I half whisper, half moan. “I’m going to—,”
He stops me from falling forward, lifting me and pressing my body further against the reinforced glass, my breasts, my stomach, his cock still pushing into me as he groans my name as if it’s a curse. Wet heat fills me, dripping down my legs.
He slows, stopping, but he doesn’t move away. He holds me there, his chest broad and warm against my back, and his head drops to my shoulder. “Stop pushing me away. I’m begging you, Lyss.”
I close my eyes.
I can’t.
I don’t know how.
He doesn’t say anything when I push back against him. I can feel him between my legs like a brand, my aching muscles a blend of Chess and Hatter that makes my heart twist as I duck out from under his arm and reach for my robe.
My eyes latch on the card, crumpled and discarded on the floor.
I’m turning it over in my hands, studying the address when he tugs it from my fingers. “You’re not going in there without us. And since you won’t come home, you’re not going in there at all.”
Chess sounds tired. Exhausted, by me, by us, by this charade that I insist on keeping in place between us. “Come home, Lyss. Please .”
Both of us are exhausted by our grief.
“I’m not coming ho—,”
I stop, clear my throat. “I’m not coming back.”
Home . The word locks in my throat, the back of my eyes burning.
The club isn’t my home anymore.
It stopped being home six months ago.
“You have people that love you,” he says quietly, watching me closely. “They miss you, Lyss. You don’t have to do all of it, not if you don’t want to. We can work something out. Just come home .”
I move away from him, hugging my elbows as I walk over and pick up my cold coffee. “Not until I know.”
“Know what?” Chess tugs his jeans up before he runs his hands through his cropped sandy hair. His eyes are hard. “That he isn’t coming back?”
I flinch, drops of cold coffee spilling over my hands. Chess’s jaw tightens as he watches me. “It doesn’t matter how long you wait. Adam’s not coming back, Lyss. And it would kill him to see you like this, pushing all of us away.”
“I’m fine.” I don’t meet his eyes. “And once I know who did it, I’ll be even fucking better.”
His hands cover mine then, his voice gentle. I can hear the pain in it. “Lyss… he did it to himself, baby. Nothing any of us could have done.”
My face goes hot. “He never touched any of that shit, Chess. Never. There was no reason for him to be on that side of town – it wasn’t even our territory . Without me, without you – alone? It makes no fucking sense.”
His fingers skate along my cheek. “No, it doesn’t. And it’s not fair—,”
“ Fuck fair.” I back away from him, shaking my head. “Don’t you dare stand there and baby me, you asshole. And don’t try to tell me that I didn’t know him, Chess. He was my fucking brother. You’re supposed to be his best friend.”
“I was his best friend.” His voice hardens. “But Adam is gone, and he’s not coming back. And it’s not fair that everything sits on your shoulders without him and your dad, Lyss, but life isn’t fucking fair. We know that better than most. And I’m not going to lose you too.”
I’m done talking. Done listening.
I lunge for the card in his hands, trying to take him by surprise as my coffee cup shatters on the floor into a dozen pieces, but Chess catches me easily. I’m worn down, worn down by grief and pain, but he’s clearly been working out his own anger in the gym we used to share. All of us.
Every single part of him is a reminder I can’t bear to look at, but I can’t bear to lose .
I claw at him as he wraps his arms around me and carries me to the bedroom, sidestepping the ceramic shards.
“I hate you.” I’m crying, deep, shuddering sobs ripping from my chest. “I wish it was you .”
I regret the vile words as soon as they fall from my mouth. Vitriol pours from me far too easily now. “Chess—,”
“I know you do.” He easily pins me down to the bed, ripping away the sash of my robe and using it to tie my wrists to the fucking bedpost as I fight with him. “And it kills me that I can’t bring him back for you, Lyss. I’d swap us in a fucking heartbeat to fix this.”
The words only force more angry tears from my eyes.
I yank at the sash, my mouth tightening when it doesn’t budge. I glare up at Chess as he turns for the door. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Starve?”
“Call your concierge,” he says shortly. “ Martin . You’ve fucked him too, haven’t you? I’m sure he’ll be only too happy to let you out.”
My mouth falls open, irrational hurt piercing my chest at his barbed words. Even though I’ve said worse, much worse. And maybe… maybe I did let him think that. “I haven’t. Slept with Martin, I mean.”
He inhales, turning back to face me. His eyes, a mix of brown and green, that distinctive amber outline, stares at me.
“I know. But you still slept with someone that wasn’t me. And losing you like this, piece by piece… it hurts almost as much as losing Adam.”
He tips his head toward the small table I keep beside my bed, my phone on the top. “You think I don’t know you keep a knife in there? You can still reach it, so cut yourself free. You get stuck, call someone else.”
He’s leaving. And he’s taking the card with him. “ Don’t you dare walk out of here. ”
But this time, he doesn’t stop. He ignores me. Chess doesn’t look back as he leaves me there and walks out of my apartment with the only clue I have to my brother’s death in his hand.
And I… I don’t call him back. My apology sticks in my throat along with all the others, warring with anger and sadness that I can’t seem to push aside long enough for us to talk through the grief that separates us.
Letting out a breath, my head thumps back into the pillow. I wait until I hear the sound of the elevator doors sliding shut before I reach for the knife, cutting through the sash of my favorite robe.
And then I grab a notepad, scribbling down the address embedded in my head.
***
After my second shower of the day, I sit on my couch with my hair dripping down my neck and stare down at the paper in my hand.
It’s not an address I recognise. Opening up my laptop, I type it in and look over the information that comes up.
It’s in the warehouse district. Not an area in our territory. Spades, if I remember correctly.
If I called Rab, he’d be able to confirm—
No.
I haven’t spoken to him since the day I packed up my shit and walked out on my family inheritance. When he ran after me, begging me not to go, and I left him there as I got on my bike and left them all behind.
Everyone except Chess, who refuses to let me go.
Swiping my hands over my face, I consider my options.
Wonder.
The most exclusive club in the city – when it’s here. And the most elusive.
Always on the move. You could get there one night, then turn up the next and the whole place would be packed up and transported somewhere new, leaving only an empty shell behind.
It’s said to be magical. Enchanting. Another world.
And the only way to get in is to be invited. You need an invite, and you need a ticket… like the one Chess took with him.
My lips tighten. Six months I’ve spent searching for their location, only to get shut down at every turn. I’ve searched every inch of this city, scoured it for any sign until I knew they’d gone. I spent weeks on the road, trying to find them before I admitted defeat and crawled home to lose myself in shitty bars and shittier life choices.
But if the address I’m staring at is right, Wonder is back .
And now that I know where it is, I’m not about to let a little issue like a fucking ticket stop me from getting the answers that haunt me.