Arko Cade & The Magic Hunter

The Lioness

a/n: if you think you've seen this chapter before, this is a rewrite! please excuse the questionable quality of the next few updates, i'm working through a handful of plot holes. as a rule, i'm committed to idea of quantity > quality, seeing as this is a first draft, anyway. it'll all be edited once i manage to get a grip akjsdhlklkj. in the meantime, just in case you've lost hope on this book right now, i hope you consider perusing through the other arkoverse novels (which are far better composed in terms of plot right now, and might provide some clarity — since everything will come together in the end.)
love, kakie

. . .

I didn't believe in love. But she always came so close to making me rethink it. 

"I won you a race." I offered pathetically, as she drew the curtains closed and drowned us in suspenseful shadow.

I looked over the white pieces, evading her eyes. She took her seat, barely a meter away, then gestured for me to begin.

Pawn to D-4. A basic strategy. My mind was momentarily imbedded in the idea of Catarina outside, alone with the Wilde boys.

But as soon as Scarlett opened her mouth, all else was undoubtedly immaterial. "You cheated at the most prestigious Grand Prix in the world."

Her voice was like velvet, even when accusatory. Her accent was meticulously English, the perfect result of a lifetime of tutelage, as custom for every Wilde. Whenever she spoke, not a sound was out of place. Every syllable, every intonation, was deliberately selected.

"I won at your favorite sport." I crinkled my nose.

"You dishonored my favorite sport." She said it slowly, coldly. The little crevice of sunlight which shone through the portière glimmered briefly across her irises and they shone like honey.

Secretly nervous, I shook my head, "No I didn't."

"Save it for someone ignorant — pit stops are strategically essential. Also, they're part of the game. It's the rules. And no one wins from P13 in Monaco. Not without rain." She snapped, unexpectedly impassioned, "You got off without consequences because you're Arko Cade, and because nobody wants to piss off the most important person in the world."

"People piss me off all the time."

Her eyes flashed in momentary rage, "I meant your mother."

"You didn't." I propped up an elbow against the table, "Not really."

She leaned back against her seat and murmured, barely audible, "You drive me crazy."

I smirked, then, "I know I do."

Unamused, she took my bishop with a knight.

I pouted. "I should've driven with Ferrari. Maybe then I'd have impressed you."

She frowned, "I don't support Ferrari."

"You like the red cars." I scowled, "Besides, everybody likes Ferrari."

"I like people who don't cheat." She moved another piece — only then did I see she'd executed a perfect opening, the Queen's Indian Defense, her favorite.

I should've expected it. But (and I say this without meaning to cause offense, it's simply the truth) I always let her win, anyway.

I swear that's not me being cocky. Scarlett is smarter than anyone I know. It just so happens that I'm smarter than everyone altogether.