The Last Queen Book Five Page 4

  “I guess that was the secret weapon he was warning us of. I guess John is finally getting desperate. Who knew the guy has balls, after all? Still, it ain’t gonna be enough. Now you know how to break one of those spells, they’re not going to be stupid enough to try it again.”

  “… Yeah,” I manage, though all I want to do is shove forward and punch Andrew.

  Though I spend most of my time complaining that John doesn’t have any balls, I don’t like hearing it from other people. As soon as they say it, all of the numerous counterarguments spring into my mind. The ones I don’t let myself think of, but the ones that are true nonetheless.

  You see, it’s not just that John lacks courage. It’s that he has too many people to protect, and presumably, has been playing this game so long that he knows risk always comes before a fall.

  Andrew doesn’t give me the chance to plunge into my thoughts. He nods me forward, and together, we loop arms underneath Michael’s huge form.

  Nobody was in this alleyway during our fight, but fortunately Andrew has been casting a reality-bending spell, and he keeps doing that as we start to lug Michael back through the streets.

  Andrew doesn’t say much to me, and that gives me the opportunity to think.

  Even if I didn’t go after Antonio, he’ll still know who I am. What’s more, I saved his frigging life.

  That was the only thing I could do at the time, and yet, my mind now whirls as I realize things could rapidly get out of hand.

  What if somehow Spencer finds out?

  What if John comes looking for me? What if he announces to Spencer that he knows whose side I’m really on?

  What if I just ruined everything?

  By the time we make it back to Spencer’s tower, I’m done. Though I wanted the chance to walk the city streets, I feel like sleeping for a week now.

  Fortunately, Spencer’s otherwise engaged, and no one stops me from going to my opulent room. As soon as I reach it, I lie down on my bed, clap my hands over my face, and let my disguise spell ebb. I can feel as that hulk of a man slips away and is replaced by my diminutive form.

  Slowly, I roll onto my back, draw my hands forward, and stare at them. From the whorls in my fingertips, to the slight cuts down my thumb and forefinger.

  I get stuck staring at those the most. Because they remind me of one fact. A fact I sometimes forget. I’m not invincible. I have power, but with power always comes one thing. The battle to keep it.

  And that battle?

  Is about to start.

  Chapter 3

  I walk into Spencer’s office just as Michael is walking out.

  We meet each other in the doorway, and he slowly slips his gaze toward me.

  Though I was never much of a bully, that doesn’t stop me from squaring off in front of him and shooting him a challenging look.

  Now I take every single opportunity I can to remind him who I am.

  It’s not because I get a kick out of being an arrogant bitch. It’s because out of all of Spencer’s pieces, Michael is going to do the most damage to me if given a chance.

  He shoots me a lingering glance, and in his gaze, I see the suspicion I saw just before he lost consciousness.

  He hides it as he turns and walks out.

  “That’s no way to look at my queen,” Spencer suddenly comments.

  I watch Michael stiffen just before he closes the door.

  “Though I can appreciate there may be some animosity between you two considering… she knocked you out, do understand that she wasn’t in control of her own body at the time.”

  Michael drags his gaze toward me. Seriously, it’s like he’s having to drag a car or something. By the time it finally reaches my eyes, that suspicion is even stronger than before. He allows his cheeks to slightly unlock, though, and his lips open. “Good to see you. I don’t blame you.” With that, he closes the door and walks off.

  Spencer leans back and shakes his head. “Sorry, my dear, but you have to forgive him. It’s gonna take him some time to adjust to the fact that we are together. He’s overprotective, which is a great thing for a first. But now there’s a queen, I guess that makes him a second. I’m sure you don’t understand the intricacies of the ordering system in this game, but your position dictates your worth. And Michael’s has just taken a hit.”

  I turn around. I control the desire to hit him for calling me my dear.

  Seriously, every time he does it, that anger just gets deeper and deeper, as if I’m drawing up bile from my gallbladder.

  I walk toward him, grab the seat behind his desk, and prepare to pull it out.

  That’s when he stands. He smooths his hands down his suit.

  For some damn reason that sends a tingle shifting through my stomach.

  Yeah, I’ve spent the last several days with Spencer hating on him, which is particularly easy to do. And yet, deep down, I still haven’t been able to dredge out that seed of lust.

  And I’m a big enough girl to call it lust now.

  I wouldn’t have several weeks ago. I would’ve shied away from that fact. Because I didn’t understand the imprinting process. Now I can see it for what it is. Mammalian instinct. The same damn pheromone-driven bullshit animals have to go through. They don’t get to pick their mate – their biology does it for them.

  And that’s exactly what I have to battle.

  For some reason as Spencer smooths down his suit, it ignites the desire inside me. It’s not the fact he’s wearing a $50,000 suit jacket. Hell, it’s not even his build. It’s the specific tension in his hand, a tension that reminds me bodily of what it feels like to be gripped by him.

  I take a breath, shifting my tongue over my teeth until I catch it under one of my canines and press in hard. I’m not trying to draw blood; I’m just trying to distract myself.

  And it works well as Spencer takes a smooth step toward me.

  He smiles. There’s nothing in that smile. It’s got the exact automatic feel of a guy who’s taught himself to smile by staring at male models in magazines.

  But his hand still calls to me as it falls to his side and he softly rounds it into a fist. He starts drumming it against his suit pants. “I’m finally going to give you what you want,” he says, a smile on his lips and in his voice.

  Goddammit, my stomach does it. It tingles. It sends nerves racing through me until I feel like I’ve swallowed a firecracker. Hell, as if I’m turning into a firecracker, and the only thing it will take for me to explode is a single spark from Spencer.

  When I don’t react, a very specific smile spreads across his face. “This is no time to sit. You’re about to get it.”

  I don’t like the way he says it.

  Or maybe I do like the way he says it.

  Goddammit, I’ve got to get a hold of this imprinting process. If I can’t, I’m never going to be able to defeat the game, am I? At the last moment, my loyalties between Spencer and John are just gonna pull me away from my task.

  I have to realize that. I have to appreciate the power the game has over not just everyone else, but me.

  So I finally square up. I don’t take a step away from him or slap him or do anything else to show him that I’m in control of the imprinting process. It’s an internal thing.

  It allows me to regain full control of my attention. I cross my arms, pout, and look at him askance. “There’s a lot of things I want in this world,” I say as I emphasize the word lot. “Exactly what are you about to give me?”

  He chucks his head back and chuckles. “It’s time to go and visit the board.” The way he says board is so specific, it’s as if he’s been taught it from a book. There’s just the right amount of power and yet deference, almost as if the word is the vocal equivalent of holding a dinosaur egg. Fragile now, but with the right conditions, it’ll grow into something insanely powerful.

  My cheeks pale. “You mean the ancient board under the city? I thought John secured that.” I surprise myself when I say John completely evenly. Even a
team of trained psychologists wouldn’t be able to see the emotion playing in my heart as I mention him. The emotion is there. Twisting and winding, grabbing and biting.

  The more I have to subdue the memory of John and my feelings for him, the bigger they get. It feels like one day they’ll just explode out, break through my wall of control, and completely own me.

  But that day is not today.

  I take a step toward Spencer, clasp my hands behind my back, dig my fingernails into my palms, and frown once more. “John’s going to know you’re after it. You’ve already acquired most of Senator Rogers’ other boards. He’s going to protect it.”

  “That I know. But there’s a way.” He looks right at me.

  I’d be a fool not to appreciate the exact way he’s staring into my eyes. It’s the way you look at a new tool. One more powerful than anything you ever had before. It’s the way you look, in other words, when you now have the power to change everything in your path, to destroy every obstacle, and to create whatever you want.

  I control my nerve as I keep that frown pressed over my lips. “What exactly will this entail? You haven’t forgotten what happened during my fight with Antonio, right?”

  “You don’t need to refer to him by his name anymore. He’s just a piece.”

  “Whatever.”

  “No, not whatever.” In an unusual moment, Spencer actually stands his ground. “It is the tradition of the game that you refer to enemy pieces not by their names,” he emphasizes that, “but by their positions.”

  Though Spencer very rarely wants to fight me on anything, and though I should be careful to keep him on-side, I simply look at him and shrug. “I don’t care what the tradition of the game is. All I care about is winning. That’s the same for you, right?”

  Though at first Spencer looks outraged that I’m challenging him, at that comment, I can see he’s derailed.

  I take a step away from him and clamp my arms in front of my body. It’s not a defensive move as if I’m blocking myself off from the rest of the world. It’s a strong move designed to bring attention to my muscles. I may not have that many – especially compared to the body I assumed this morning – but that’s not the point. My muscles are a stand-in for my magic. For my grit. For my determination. For my sheer power and tenacity as the Last Queen.

  “That’s right, isn’t it? All you care about is winning, correct?” My voice is so very careful on the word correct. It’s like I’m trying to balance a knife on another knife. Let them fall, and my anger will slice down with them.

  “Correct,” he says automatically, but he swallows as he does it. “You do not need to fear; I am nothing like him,” he emphasizes the word him as he clenches his teeth together and spits it out.

  “You better not be. I joined with you because you told me that you would do anything,” my voice shakes, “to win. I’m sick of men who hide in the shadows, protecting their pieces as they wait for opportunities. I want men who make opportunities,” I spit the word make with all of my force.

  Though I’m never usually this forward in front of Spencer, and I’m usually always careful not to discuss relationships in case he gets all sticky on me, but this is the only way to take control of this conversation.

  It works, too. Spencer goes from looking powerful to looking humble. “You can rest assured that there is nothing I won’t do to gain power.”

  “Good. So tell me what you want to do.”

  “I plan to show you,” he says as he sweeps a hand to the side.

  I frown at him. “Where are you taking me?”

  “To the ancient gameboard beneath the city.”

  “But it will be guarded. I just fought today. Though training is valuable, at the same time, so is consolidation. I need to figure out how to cast one of those doll spells myself,” I lie, as I have no intention of ever casting one. The entire idea of it is abominable. It smacks so much of what this game is about. Somebody more powerful than someone else controlling them, using their body, placing them wherever they see fit. It’s like a frigging metaphor for modern life.

  I hate it.

  “We will not approach it from that angle,” he says. His voice is hesitant. So is the look he shoots me.

  It makes my brow crumple. “What angle will we approach it from, then?”

  “Beneath.”

  I shake my head. “If you’re talking about tunneling up to the board, it won’t work. John is not an idiot. He’ll have full magical sensors around that board. If you think we can just—”

  “I did not say it will be easy. You have to learn a spell in order to do it.”

  I straighten. I straighten because of the look in his eyes as he says the word spell. His lips move in a specific way, too, almost as if he’s practically trying to kiss the air.

  That makes my stomach clench. And at the same time, I get that feeling. You want to know what that feeling is? It’s that specific way my stomach clenches and my back arches at the promise of new power.

  Though all I want to do is get rid of the game, at the same time, I have to appreciate that some part of me is the Last Queen, and some part of me wants to learn. Not to acquire power in order to destroy everyone in her path, but just… to understand it, I guess. There’s this deep-seated need in me to recognize all forms of magic. To figure out how they work, and, ultimately, to wield them.

  So yeah, I straighten, and maybe the look in my eyes changes, because a smile spreads quickly over his lips.

  He takes two steps toward me and plucks up my hand before I can shift away.

  I have to try seriously hard not to clamp my hand over his wrist and try to break his thumb.

  I press a confused smile over my lips. “Who are you going to get to teach me the spell?”

  “One of the queens. It’s finally time to crack them out.”

  “… I see,” I say. As far as comments go, it’s stupid. Weak, too, and if there’s one thing I can’t afford to show, it’s weakness. Especially after that rant I just gave Spencer.

  But maybe Spencer likes to see me weak, because he takes the opportunity to lean forward and peck me on the brow.

  Though I have to control the imprinting process as it sends devastating hot tingles down my cheek, I do not give into it, and God knows I don’t reach up, pull his chin down, and kiss the bastard.

  I just continue to frown.

  “There is no need to be afraid. Though I appreciate that the last time you encountered a shadow queen, she tried to kill you, that will not happen this time. I am in full control of them. They are nothing more than shadows.”

  “I’m not afraid,” I say.

  He chuckles. “It’s okay. It’s okay to admit your true feelings,” he says, his voice doing that same stupid thing where it shakes with barely concealed emotion on the word admit.

  If he thinks I’m about to throw myself into his arms for comfort, he’s wrong.

  I take a step back and let my hands fall to my sides. In order to ensure the move doesn’t look as if I’m trying to keep my distance from him, I smile. I ensure it’s halfway between a strong and pathetic smile. That is to say, I ensure it’s pretty much normal.

  And maybe Spencer likes normal, because a spark ignites in his eyes.

  Fortunately, he doesn’t push toward me again. Instead, he shrugs toward the door.

  “I don’t get it? Are you going to take me to the training room in this building? Am I going to learn the spell from a queen there?”

  He shakes his head. “No time. After all, you told me that real-world experiences are far more important than training. And I believe you. I will always believe you,” he adds.

  Is there suspicion in his voice? Is it in his eyes, too? Is it flickering there as he casts his gaze from the door back to me?

  I suddenly wonder what Michael told him.

  Though I’m confident that Michael wouldn’t have appreciated that I saved Antonio’s life, maybe he suspects I waited to break the control spell.

  I don�
�t breathe a word of this. I fall into step behind Spencer as he turns toward the door. We walk out, reach the lifts, and head down to the car park. There, there is a car waiting for us. Michael and Andrew are inside up front.

  Spencer opens the door for me.

  For some reason, that gets to me, and I’m not entirely sure why. I’m not one of those people who freaks out if a man does something chivalrous. I think it’s plain polite for ladies and men to open doors for each other.

  But I still freak out. I freak out because of the way Spencer looks at me. He’s looking at me as if he’s giving me a present. Something I can’t give myself.

  And that reminds me of one fact.

  Kings, at the end of the day, are fundamentally useless. They don’t have the raw power of queens. It’s simply the rules of the damn game that make them necessary at all. In nature, it’s always the most powerful who rule. But for some reason, in this game, it doesn’t work like that.

  I sit roughly in the back of the car, do my seatbelt up, and wait for Spencer.

  He chuckles as he sits down and stares at my seatbelt. “Michael is a good driver. And, at the end of the day, you’re a queen; there’s nothing that can hurt you.”

  He leans over and pats my hand fondly.

  I want to break each one of his knuckles just to hear what they’ll sound like.

  I also want to point out how goddamn different he is to John.

  John always tried to protect me. He would never tell me that as a queen there’s nothing that can hurt me. He would, presumably, if given a chance, give an exhaustive list of threats to my life.

  Spencer?

  He’s arrogant. And, quite possibly, stupid.

  No, not dumb. After all, if he was an idiot, he wouldn’t have been able to acquire Senator Rogers’ pieces and get this far in the game.

  What Spencer is, is blinded. He’s one of those men who simply chooses not to see the reality around him.

  Though business management books may tell you that that’s the greatest skill a leader can have, because it will help them share their vision and ignore problems, this is the real world. If you keep running along blithely painting your own fantasies onto reality, soon enough, you’re gonna walk right off a cliff you were too blinded to see.