Checkmate

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

A high pitched squeal jars my slumbering thoughts, rattling inside my skull unbearably.  It wails with a blaring volume, snapping my eyes open.  Every muscle in my body tenses as the room sways.  My fingers knot in crisp sheets, releasing a scented flood into my nostrils.  If I had not been utterly awake then, I am now. 

The entire world rocks.  A grating ruckus roars to life, and the buzz of machinery clicking drowns out my own thoughts.  Through a circular window with crystalline glass, the terra cotta blur of the buildings from my home slowly fade into the green embrace of the Roanoke forests.  My eyes widen and my heart pounds with fear.  Though I am aware that the moving of the train bodes me little harm, it takes longer than I care to admit to fully calm.

Rigid as a board in the bed, I am fully aware that my priority is to examine my surroundings.  Without moving an inch in either direction, I do just that.  My eyes graze over the neat quarters, my ears strain to identify the clicking of clockwork and hiss of steam rising, my nose tests the air and the fragrance of burning coal and scented sheets, and my skin senses the scalding heat of another lying in bed beside me. 

His breathing is even and mellow.  However, it lacks the slow rhythm of sleep, driving along with a slightly more vigorous beat.  The arm draped over me is positioned shamelessly and yet respectfully in the same breath.  His skin is sweltering against mine, twining around my waist, but avoiding all areas of explicit consequence.  His calloused fingers brush the vulnerable skin of my stomach, too close to organs for my liking.  Our bodies do not interact anywhere else, not even a miniscule touching of flesh.  And, strangest of all, we both seem to be bearing all clothing. 

My world spins as I do, rolling in the silky sheets.  They twine hopelessly in my legs, yanked along in my journey of rotation.  Scarcely daring to breath, I turn and gaze directly into the brown eyes of Nathiel. 

We share a single pillow, a beige cushion caving beneath the weight of Nathiel’s head.  He lays sprawled gracefully over the bed, one hand around my wait and the other lying limp at his side.  Tranquility dominates his expression, magnanimous when compared to his previous lust.  Tousled hair sits in disarray atop his head.  The sunlight streaming in through a hatch in the wall to his back turns his brown skin golden. 

“Hello,” Nathiel greets.  A purr runs through the shared mattress, inspired by the vibration of his vocals.  Nathiel smirks, his lips quirking into a sly smile.  The arm around my waist tightens marginally.  “Pleasant to see you again, Omega.”

“I’m not naked,” I note, sharp tactical sense hardening any inkling to be polite to the arrogance of the Prince.  Acutely, I study his face, inspecting the planes and angles. 

The cold haughty expression Nathiel wears seemingly whenever he and I communicate falters, softening.  Ice melts and burns.  His other arm frees from its wedge beneath the sheets and strays towards me, gently moving over the sheets.  His rough thumb strokes my cheek with religious tenderness, expression melting only further.  The thundering of his pulse harmonizes with mine.

“I figured,” he whispers throatily, “that it wouldn’t be amiable to lose a friend and gain a child on the same day.” 

The ice has sealed over my heart, and fire has seized me soul.  No longer will I allow the belittling thoughts of grief and sorrow to worm their way into my tactful mind, because now, my mind is the only thing I may rely on.  With Gay’s death, my world has become hostile and hostile only.  Instead of enemies I can kill, instead of enemies I can stab, my enemies are the hedonists I sit beside as friends and the ones that think of me with an unjust misogyny.  From this point onward, I am alert, I am vigilant as the wildcat.  However, the frail standard of female emotions, in this case, bid me no harm.