Page 27
Full. Everything about her seems full. Complete. Like a picture in vivid color.
Looking at her is satisfying in a way that looking at other women just is not.
“I know what a chessboard is,” she fumes. I tuck this away as a crucial piece of information about her—what she hates most is someone insulting her intelligence. “I’m talking about the fidgeting. Fixing the piece.”
I look at the piece, then back at her in disbelief. “Did you—did you move that piece? Make it crooked?”
“Yeah, and you fixed it. Why?”
Shifting in my seat, I size her up again. All that time ago, in that club, I’d known she was my fated. What I hadn’t known was just how bright she is. In fact, I’d never really thought an omega as capable of strategy.
Except that’s not true. My sister has always been strategic. From growing up together, and it often being assumed that she would be an alpha herself, I tend to sort her into a different category than other omegas.
Either way, Mylah is a piece of proof against that assumption. There’s a flicker of awareness in the back of my head at this realization. That much of my perception of omegas has been shaped by what I’ve been told, rather than what I’ve seen myself.
Mylah grows impatient. “Augustus? Hello? Are you going to answer the question?”
It makes me laugh. “I just like things to be orderly, I guess.”
“But why?”
“Good goddesses, what are you, my shrink?”
Her forehead wrinkles. “You have a shrink?”
“No.” Wanting to move the conversation to literally any other topic, I clear my throat and glance at the board. Such a bright woman; it might be fun to play against her. “You play?”
She hesitates, clearly not pleased about the answer she’s about to give. “No. We didn’t have a board at home, and I wasn’t allowed to use the ones at the library.”
“Why not?” My first thought is that she did something to get herself banned.
Mylah gives me a look like I’m an idiot. “Because they were only for alpha and beta use.”
Right.
“Well, come on,” I gesture to the table, stand, and move over to sit down on the other side. Strangely, I get a rush of adrenaline at the thought of playing her. “I’ll teach you.”
“You’ll…teach me,” she repeats, standing and walking closer to me. Today, she’s wearing a pair of skin-hugging jeans and a loose crewneck. She looks so comfortable in it that it’s hard for me to remember her in that old nightgown, the denim wrapped around her feet.
“Yes. But you have to sit down.”
She stands on the other side of the chess table, studying me. “Why?”
“It’s not traditional to play chess while standing.”
“No. Why do you want to teach me?”
Because I like being around you. Because you are interesting to me. Because I never expected you to be so smart. “Because I’ll do anything if it means getting away from my council.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have told her that. She looks at me hard for another long second, then puts her hand on the back of the chair. “I’ll do it for a fee.”
I laugh, “You’ll let me teach you how to play chess…for a fee?”
She nods.
“Okay. Name it.”
“I want books.”
