The Pawn and The Puppet (The Pawn and The Puppet series Book 1)

“Why were you following me?” I ask. His legs are longer than mine, so naturally, he walks faster down the stairs, and I find myself practically jogging to keep up.

“You seem to have the habit of collecting bad karma,” he answers.

His answer fills my stomach with feathers. “Sooo…” I muse over the idea I am about to throw in the air. “You wanted to keep me safe.”

“No,” he replies sternly.

“You wanted to protect me,” I offer again.

“NO.”

“THEN WHAT?!”

“I DON’T KNOW!” A lion’s roar. His hot breath—a gentle breeze over my face.

We pause in the middle of the stairwell for several seconds. “Careful. You wouldn’t want me to believe you could possibly have a heart,” I say.

“Ha!” He begins walking down the stairs again. “Perhaps that is exactly what I want you to believe.” His deep, rugged voice is hot, boiling water. I follow after him, tripping my first step then regaining balance on the next.

“Well, you could have let that man defile me,” I pant, trying to keep up with him.

Dessin spins around to point a finger in my direction. “Enough, Skylenna.” The anger refuels his warm-brown eyes. For some reason, this amps me up.

“You could have let him violate me in all sorts of terrible ways, but you didn’t.”

He corners me, hands pressed against the wall. “I SAID ENOUGH!”

Adrenaline pulses through my body. “I’m sorry,” I mutter. His glare fixates on me as he slowly comes out of the rage I put him in. “I didn’t know me talking about it would bother you this much.”

He grimaces. In a swift decision, I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his shoulder. “Thank you for protecting me,” I whisper, trapping my warm breath against his neck. He’s tense, built like a castle, complete with walls to keep me out. Several seconds pass, and his arms remain at his sides. He exhales slowly and gently circles them around my waist.

I release a breath, unsure how I feel about this moment we are sharing. Grateful he has impeccable timing with this ability to show up at the final hour to save me. Excited that he is showing more and more signs of actually having feelings and passions. Nervous that aside from these feelings, I have one hiding deeper inside of me that I am trying to keep undetectable.

“Where does Aurick think you are?” Dessin grabs my waist and helps me down the two broken steps.

“Ahhh.” I sigh, wondering if he knows what day it is. “I had a convincing excuse.”

“Hmm, it seems a little me of you to use such a dreary day in your past to manipulate your friend.” And there it is. Of course he knows what today is. Why wouldn’t he?

We exit the tower. The sky shows signs of a storm coming our way, lightning cracks across the sky, and the clouds clap with thunder.

“I am not manipulating him.” I gesture, looking around the abandoned field. “I just knew he would never be okay with me coming out here… He would want to come with me and learn whatever you wanted me to learn about yourself, which I might add—I would never violate your trust. So really, I was doing you a favor.” I begin walking in the direction of where I thought I came from. I turn back around to look at Dessin. “Are you ever going to tell me how you mysteriously know so much about my life?”

“Why would I do a silly thing like that?”

The cool breeze against my cheek becomes moist and heavy. His soft brown hair whooshes away from his face in the gentle wind, leaving one stray lock to rest to the side of his temple. I lose my train of thought for a moment as I imagine myself running my hand through his hair, to feel its thickness between my fingers, to see his change in expression as I step into him.

He blinks at me, snapping his fingers in front of my face. “Focus, Skylenna.” His eyes look intently amused.

“How many people have you killed?” I snap out of my momentary catatonic daze.

He chokes on a surprised laugh. “What?” He half smiles at me expectantly.

“How many? I want to know.”

He brushes me off with a whimsical rise of his brow and a sneer in his smile.

“You certainly aren’t subtle, are you?” He crosses his arms. “I have not kept count.” I follow behind him as he walks in the direction of the oncoming storm.

“That is definitely a lie.”

“How do you figure?”

“I think you’ve kept count every single time, even though the other man living in your head wishes you could forget.”

“How are you getting home?” he asks. I can see in the distance the rain falling in a mist of gray. Dessin watches it unconcerned.

“I’m not going home.” I glare. “I’m staying right here until I get some answers!” I stomp back to the tower, hoping he doesn’t see through my bluff and falls into my trap.

The rain reaches us, pouring over my body and staining the abandoned road.

Dessin whips his head back around to see me heading for the stone steps. Rain plummets to the ground, dampening my dress, turning the gray fabric into black. And the wind is harsh, almost aggressive, as it whips my hair across my face.

A striking gash of annoyance appears on his face. He unfolds his arms and stubbornly walks toward me. I can hardly see him as he makes his way through the curtain of fog and falling water.

“Do you have a death wish?” he shouts over the thunder. “This isn’t just a little rain, Skylenna. A hurricane is blowing in. It’s either drown out here or go back inside and get attacked by another lawless rat.”

I look out at the blurred horizon, unrecognizable with a waterfall of rain. “What do you want from me, Dessin?” I whisper, the notes and letters of my desperate question free-falling into the abyss of the storm.

He looks away, pulling me under the shelter of the doorway, watching the white and gray blaze surround us.

“I want you to be cautious, and I want you to get strong.” He looks down at me, his heavy, sultry voice echoing against the walls of our shelter.

“Cautious of what?”

“Of me. Of the asylum. Of everything… Of everyone.” He moves closer. “You’re too trusting, and you’re far too forgiving.”

“Why are those all bad things?” I mutter, feeling overwhelmed with this day and our conversation.

“They aren’t bad…. Unless there are constant threats around you.”

Threats? Am I unknowingly being sucked into his paranoia?

“What are you trying to tell me?”

“You’ll crumble to pieces. You are too fragile and kind to be this trusting.” Raindrops tumble over his full lips, running down his chin and disappearing across his neck.

But my gaze is transfixed on his mouth. And with a shift in the air, he notices. The acknowledgment is in the subtle tension creeping into his jawline. I flick my gaze up quickly, embarrassed that I lingered there for a moment too long.

But it’s a mistake…because his dark, powerful, brooding eyes have dropped down to my lips, shamelessly studying them without blinking. I’m suddenly overwhelmed by the broad width of his shoulders consuming every breath of air around me. His wet hair is messy from the impact of the storm, and I don’t know what comes over me. I don’t process the impulse as my hand reaches to his hairline, smoothing the strands away from his face.

The light touch shoots a bolt of lightning up my arm, and his eyes close in response. The sound of his ragged breathing blends in with the harsh winds and pounding rain behind him. His brows knit together as if my touch physically pains him. But his eyes stay closed, and his jaw clenches.

I should say something. We’ve been sucked into a moment I don’t know how to climb out of. I lift my hand away from his scalp, slowly, carefully reeling it back to the safety of my own space.

But he closes the distance around me, slamming my back into the stone wall with gentle aggression. He’s a snake that has decided to strike. And those eyes have snapped open, hooded and glazed over as if he’s under a spell.

“Please,” he utters. His voice is gravel and thunder. “Tell me to stop.”

A wicked feeling curls low in my belly. Tell him to stop! I can’t speak. I can’t even wipe the stupid look off my face.

His rigid arms are holding him up against the wall on either side of me. More drops of rain roll down his sun-kissed skin, outlining his bulging muscles.

“No,” I say the word like it’s a plea for life. A plea to survive.

The rumbling in his chest is a cross between a growl and a groan. Tortured and pleased.

“No,” I say again, striking away any doubt he had that I said it the first time. His arms leave the wall, clamping down on my waist with a hungry possession. His entire body closes in now, pressing against my front with a feverish need to touch me. I let out a stuttering gasp.

What am I doing? I have to stop this.

“Skylenna,” he pants, forehead pressing against mine. “I need you to be safe. I need you to be safe.” There’s emotion there. Ancient, clouded feeling that’s layered with lust.

I want him to lower his mouth. My hands slide up his neck, snaking over his jawline to pull his face closer to mine. My fingertips graze the stubble over his skin, and I can’t hold back the satisfying moan that slips from my throat.

That soft sound sparks fireworks behind his hooded gaze. His hands tighten around my waist like he’s a breath away from ripping off my dress. And with that thought, he pushes himself away, turning around to face the storm with clenched fists.

“I’m not fragile at all,” I say breathlessly. “I can handle whatever you can handle.”

He doesn’t look back. “That’s what I’m hoping to find out.” His hands rest on his hips. “How are you getting home?” Like clockwork, my buggy pulls up slowly, tires whooshing through the flooding water. “Go,” he urges.

“I’m not just going to leave you here?!” I step back.

“Yes, you are. I got here on my own. I can get back just as easily. Go.”

I grab his arm. “Come with me.”

His brown eyes widen, and he smiles slowly. “No, Skylenna. But I think you should make one more stop before going back into the arms of the devil.” He smirks at the satanic reference to Aurick. “Go see Jack.” My father. Strange to hear someone else say his name as if they knew him personally.

My stomach flips, and I involuntarily ball up my fists.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says, disappearing into the shadows of this old decaying building.