Checkmate

Chapter Three

Chapter Three 

The Prince is infinitely gentle as he leads me through the masses of scoffing women.  His persistent tugs on my arm are calm and mindful, not anything like what I’d thought a Dark Prince to be capable of.  He, however, is not gentle in the slightest as he shoves pathetic women from his path like a underworldly god.  The meager crowd disperses before him, scurrying off like mice in the presence of a lion. 

The flashing lights are whirling around the dance floor once more, swaying over the ballroom.  After a few unbearable seconds of scratchy wails, the loudspeakers boom back to their regular volume and pounding music. 

The women bounce to the beat, pointed high heels slipping clumsily over the tile floor.  Their carefully secured masks amazingly do not topple from their foreheads, something that remains an utter mystery to me.  All I can do to avoid their catty glares is keep my eyes locked ahead of me, trained on Nathiel’s muscled back. 

Something inside prickles with extoling pride.  Here I am, not even eighteen years of age, and already I have influenced the Prince of all men.  My once fanciful dreams of luxury are but a kitten’s lick away.  All I need to do is keep up the act and hook my Prince Charming even further.  Judging from his past interactions with me, I highly doubt this will be difficult to accomplish.  

The lingering scent of sugary sweets fill my nostrils as we near the snack tables along the sides of the massive ballroom.  His calloused hand releases my wrist.  The Prince swirls around to meet me, his dark eyes smoldering like two black coals.

Mind moving swiftly, I pretend to trip over my hidden sneakers and crash like a graceless klutz into his muscled chest.  He recoils slightly with surprise, still saying nothing in the direction I'd been hoping for.  Blushing beet red beneath my ostentatious masquerade mask, I pull back, muttering dejected apologies.  That hadn’t worked in the slightest.  

Yet again, the Prince surprises me.  His arms move in the shadowy darkness of the dance, trapping my body against his.  My eyes are involuntarily drawn to Nathiel’s chiseled face, a thrill of unfamiliar excitement coursing through my veins as his eyes search me just as intensely.  Perhaps this is what a Prince does: seduce women, and nothing more.  But if this is the case, then I do believe I am sold, and that he is, too. 

“Careful,” Nathiel murmurs, vibrations shuddering beneath the hands of mine resting on his chest.  He leans closer to me, lips parted.  “Lord knows what would happen to you if I hadn’t been around.”

I shrug, inching ever so slightly closer to his body, my hands running over his muscles like liquid.  “I wouldn’t have made it this far.  I’d have be eaten alive by the women on the dance floor.”

Nathiel throws his head back in a thundering laugh.  The whites of his teeth are highlighted by the flashing strobe lights.  His brawny arms curl around my back, crossing in an X.  The Prince’s face is hardly an inch away from mine, and every logical instinct is screaming at me to close the distance.  “Well, it’s a good thing I’m sticking around.”

Suspicion plays over my heart, not quite reaching my face, but piercing and acute all the same.  Is it possible he’s setting this up for me?  Does this Prince have the forethought to design something that devilishly maniacal?  

Still, if I do not say anything with my classic fire then he’ll assume that something’s wrong, perhaps putting a few barriers back into place.  I smile, watching his sculpted face through my eyelashes.  “You’ll be heading off on your fancy train soon, and then you’ll leave me all alone again.  Then I’m for the wolves.”