Chapter 98: Inseparable

Daphne

I knew I was being too forward, inviting the king of the northern werewolves into my apartment, but I couldn’t help it. The idea of stepping inside alone and closing the door filled me with a kind of empty dread. I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted to be near him, even if all we did was sit on the couch and debate politics or something equally boring.

But once I shut the door behind him, I felt awkward. I guess it showed, too, because the man took pity on me. He glanced around the room, and his eyes fell on the chessboard that decorated one of the side tables. “Do you play chess, Daphne?”

“Um, no,” I admitted. “My brother Wyatt tried to teach me when I was a kid, but I was interested enough to sit through his tutorials. I went to the chessboard, which was made from marble, with exquisitely carved pieces. “Will you teach me?”

He smiled. Not his polished, perfect, kingly smile, but rather a quick expression of pure pleasure. Oh my, how it changed his face, it made him look so much younger, almost boyish, and it started that warm sensation deep in the pit of my stomach. I wanted to see him smile like that more often.

I wanted to be the reason he smiled. He carefully picked up the chess board and transported it to the coffee table. Pieces wobbled a bit as he set it down, but none fell. We sat next to each other, side by side on the couch, with our outer thighs touching.

“Let’s start by introducing the pieces,” Louis said, picking up one of the white pawns. Yes, I knew it was a pawn, but I didn’t want to stop him from explaining. “This is a pawn. Historically, it represents a common soldier or infantry officer. It’s the weakest piece on the chessboard.” He took my hand in his and pressed the game piece into my palm. “There are eight pawns. They can move forward one square, or on their first turn, they can move forward two squares. They attack on the forward diagonal.”

I turned the marble piece in my hand, feeling his residual body heat on the stone. “Okay,” I said, and I leaned forward and replaced the piece in its spot on the board.

He picked up another piece. “This is the bishop. On a modern chess board, it represents a Catholic bishop, but in the original Islamic tradition, it was actually a war elephant, and was shaped like a tusk.” He placed the bishop in my hand, brushing his fingers across my palm as he did so, spreading heat through my wrist and up my forearm. “It moves on the diagonal, as far as it wants, as long as it is not blocked by another piece.”

“Bishop, diagonal. Got it.” I replaced the piece. “But I like the idea of a war elephant better than a priest. A war elephant sounds badass.”

“I agree,” He shifted closer, and his arm rested on the couch behind my back. “I always thought a priest in a war game was shady.”

“Mmmhm,” I agreed, but I was very distracted by the nearness of that arm. I wish he’d stop being careful and just put his arm around me, but I was afraid to tell him so.

He picked up the piece that looked like a little tower. “This is the rook. It can move horizontally and vertically. It’s usually shaped like a siege tower, but the word rook actual comes from the Persian term Ruhk, which is a chariot.” He smiled a little self-consciously as he handed me the piece, this time he let his finger rest a minute on my fingers. “I hope I’m not boring you with all the history.”

“No,” I said, a little breathlessly. I looked up into his eyes, into the golden flecks that seemed to sparkle. “I find it… fascinating.” I blinked hard and forced myself to look down at the carved piece in my hand. “How the game has evolved over time,” I added hastily.

I replaced the rook and picked up the knight. “I know this one is a knight,” I said, holding it out to him this time.

“That’s right, this piece moves in an L shape, like this.” He showed me by moving the knight on the board. “It’s the only piece that can jump over any other pieces in its way.”

He picked up the queen and the king and held them side by side. “This is the queen, and this is the king. You win the game by forcing the king into checkmate. Checkmate means he has nowhere to escape. Ironically, the king is the weakest player on the board. He can move only one square in any direction. But this,” He held up the other piece, “This is the queen. She can move in any direction, any number of spaces, as long as her path is not blocked by another piece. She stands at the king’s side, and she is the most powerful piece on the board.”

He set the queen in my hand, and this time he curled my fingers deliberately around the figure. “A king is nothing without the Queen.”

It was a simple statement, and yet I felt it was heavy with many possible meanings. He was a king. He had lost his queen a long time ago. I had no illusions that I was anywhere near his league, and certainly hadn’t come to Canada with any designs on the throne. Yet, he was sitting on the couch with his warm fingers curled around mine.

That arm on the back of the couch finally found its way around my body. He drew my hand close to him, which in turn turned my torso, so that I was almost facing him. He leaned in until his face was mere inches from mine. He paused, and I knew he was giving me that split second to object, to pull back, to reject his attention.

Just like Nate.

Thinking of Nate should have put a damper on the moment, and I had a temporary flash of concern that it did not. I was sitting there, pregnant with another man’s baby, still rather hung up on that man, even though I should have written Nate off weeks ago. And yet, I was very much anticipating kissing Louis. What did that say about me, as a woman? What did that say about my sense of morality?

He leaned in further, and I met him half way, and our lips brushed together, lightly at first. Louis was a very good kisser, and curiously, he didn’t make any attempt to get inside my mouth, but instead tantalized my lips only. He took his time, kissing me from different angles, tracing the outline of my lips with his tongue, catching my lower lip between his teeth. It was just a kiss, but I felt like I was melting from the inside out.

He brushed light, butterfly kisses against my cheeks, and then pulled back to look into my eyes. “Daphne, there is something I have to tell you.”

I went stiff. Ugh, this is the part where he tells me, what? That he’s not looking for a long-term relationship? Not to get my hopes up, not to have any expectations?

He brushed my hair back away from my cheek, his gaze boring into mine. “I haven’t been with a woman since my wife died."