convince you against your choice.”
My choice.
Right.
That’s all I heard. The cloud I was riding on suddenly drops me on my ass, shattering whatever imaginary forcefield had kept me so engrossed in the moment. A moment where it was just him and I, where I wasn’t thinking of what’s become of my life or contemplating what it’ll feel like to die a second time.
So stupid. So utterly stupid and irresponsible. It’s then I decide I won’t let myself be alone with him like this again. Not after tonight. This right here, it needs to stop.
It’s not fair to him.
“You’re serious?” I swallow again, mentally begging that lump of emotion to disappear.
Callan crosses his fingers and nods. “You have my word.”
Do I though? He’s famous for trickery. “So let me get this straight—you win and I...have a taste? Will that be enough to complete the transition?”
“Not at all. There was more in your breakfast.” That wicked smirk of his? Picture it now.
See? Trickery.
“Are you just saying that?”
“Perhaps,” he shrugs, “Guess you’ll just have to give me the benefit of the doubt, huh?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“You’ll always have a choice, Tinksley. I may not agree with them, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t entitled to make them.”
What I want to ask is why he won’t agree, why he wants to keep me alive so desperately. But I don’t. My gut says to trust him, and so, I sigh, “Fine. I’ll play, but if you don’t keep your word—”
“I will,” he asserts, leaning forward and holding a hand out.
So I lean forward and do the same, slipping my palm in his, and with a simple shake, the game begins.
A series of minutes later, both Hook and I have moved one of our knights, and a pawn. I’ve just finished sliding another up one space on the right when he, too, takes a pawn and moves it up two spaces.
My face splits into a grin. I thought he was supposed to be skilled?
Fingers curling around the top of my knight, I hop the necessary spaces to retrieve one of Hook’s pawns.
“Ha!” I giggle, setting the acquired piece onto the table beside me.
Callan grins subtly and nods. “Just remember, it’s not over yet.”
He moves his bishop. I move my second knight. My smile still sits firmly in place, until I notice the positioning of our pieces and realize what he’s about to do.
Hook takes that same bishop he just moved, and hops it diagonally all the way across the board, taking out my rook. “Told you it wasn’t over yet.”
“That’s fine,” I reach for my knight, “it will be soon, though. Hope you’re not a sore loser.”
Said knight sweeps in and takes out another one of Hook’s pawns.
Yes.
I set it down beside the other and regard Callan who’s focused on the board, his shoulders bobbing up and down through a silent chuckle.
“Keep laughing, Captain. As I said, I hope you’re not a sore loser.”
“I’m not.” He moves his second knight. “But I have a feeling you are. You’re more competitive than I imagined.”
My knight takes yet another one of his pawns, driving my simmering ego up another notch. “I get it from my father. He’s very competitive.”
“That, I do know.” The amused sound of his voice momentarily distracts me from what’s taking place between.
I catch it right as he’s completing his turn. His queen...he moves her and reclaims my knight.
“Asshole,” I mutter, debating my next move.
I finally settle on moving a rook, a shift I feel good about, until Hook reaches for his knight and eliminates another one of my pawns.
What the fuck?
On a growl, I grab one of my pawns and move it up a single space.
Callan’s still laughing silently, moving his bishop four spaces. I know exactly what he’s trying to do. He’s trying to take my last rook. My blood doesn’t boil, no, it goes surging in its white-hot state.
Reaching for said rook, I drop it one space, the other pieces on the board rattling a bit with the movement.
And he’s still fucking chuckling, wasting absolutely no time after my move to take his second bishop and move the five necessary spaces left to claim the rook I just moved.
How did I not see that?
I growl in frustration, loudly, profoundly, which finally prompts Hook to laugh freely as he aligns all the pieces he’s taken from me.
That damn chuckle is like nails on a chalkboard, grating on my nerves almost immediately as I batter a pawn forward. “What’s so funny?”
He eliminates yet