“Dominic is the only one with the patience for it. We play occasionally,” he replies.
I have to suppress a flinch at the name, remembering my wild flight from him yesterday.
“Oh, that’s interesting,” I say absently.
Looking back at the board, I hesitate. There are so many options. I’m afraid of mis-stepping.
“Interesting?” There’s a curious cant to Jasper’s head; it makes his silky black hair fall forward slightly.
“I just . . . didn’t think the two of you got along very well.”
“Oh?” Jasper rests his chin on his fingers. Settled back in his chair, he’s relaxed and watchful. “And why do you think that?”
My fingers hesitate over the pieces as I eye him. This feels like a trap.
Flustered, I move my bishop to G4. “You were arguing. When I saw you together— Oh, I don’t know. Just a feeling, I suppose. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Eden, would you do me a favor?”
His dark eyes snare me, fathomless and shadowed. I nod, swallowing.
“Please stop apologizing,” he tells me gently.
I release a breath. I’ve only technically apologized to him twice today, but I know he’s asking more than that.
“You intimidate me,” I confess quietly.
Jasper’s chin dips. “I’m aware.”
“Of course you are.”
He actually smiles at that, and small and neat as it is, it changes his whole face. I stare at him, lips parting, my eyes tracing over the tragic delicacy of his cheekbones, the way I’ve been doing each night before I slip into a sweet, feverish sleep.
“I would be lying if I said I don’t enjoy a sub being nervous around me. You being afraid, however, does not appeal in the slightest.”
Thinking that over, I nod slowly. I can appreciate the distinction.
Jasper adds, “There has been some talk of punishment that I fear has misled you. To be clear, I don’t intend on causing you any harm, or crossing any lines you aren’t comfortable with me crossing. You can always refuse, Eden. Always. And with no consequence to your position in this house.”
His need to make me understand is tangible, and although my fears and frustrations and desires go far deeper than that, I’m comforted by his reassurance. He’s giving me an out, despite the group’s earlier agreement, and it’s a huge weight off my shoulders.
No whipping necessary today.
I tilt my head. “Dom said—”
“Ah,” he breaks in gently. “Dom may lead the men, Eden, but this is my home. If he has a concern about my guests, he can discuss it with me.”
When he sees his words have sunk in, he picks up his pawn at D4. Some of the tension around his mouth and shoulders has eased.
“Occasionally there will be consequences for your actions, however,” Jasper tells me with a dangerous glint in his eye. He indicates the board with his head. “Such as for that move. That one was a mistake.”
With precise motions, he takes my pawn at E5. I’m now left unprotected and retaliation in that spot would be futile. I scowl, and he chuckles softly.
“In answer to your earlier question, I like the captain just fine. We both have competitive natures and occasionally that leads to conflict, but I respect him. He’s a good leader.”
I move my bishop to F3 to take his threatening knight. As soon as I do, I crinkle my nose. I’m going to lose that piece. It’s utterly unprotected.
Damn. I need to prepare better against his attacks.
“May I ask something of you, Eden?”
“Mm-hmm,” I mumble, still puzzling over the board.
“Will you tell me about your husband?” The words are careful, calculated—like he timed their delivery to the second.
My hands clench hard, and I realize he’s knocked down my defenses. Smooth and deadly, Jasper takes my bishop with his queen.
A clean kill.
I force a smile, though it feels more like a grimace. “Trying to shrink my head?”
“Trying to get to know you, actually,” he replies with gentle reproach.
I lift my eyes to his, feeling shame sting my cheeks. He’s right. That wasn’t fair of me. Thinking about Henry upsets me, puts me on edge, but that’s not his fault, and it’s a fair question. I’m curious about his past too—about all of their pasts. I’ve shared my body with both Lucky and Jaykob, but I’ve only gleaned the tiniest teases of information about who they are and where they’ve come from.
And unlike my body, their pasts are not on offer.
Taking a moment to collect myself, I use my pawn to take his at E5.
“My husband—” I start, then cut off, not sure where to begin. Frustrated, I blow out a breath. How can I even begin explaining all these complicated things I’m feeling? “I don’t know how to—”
Jasper nods once, and his expression grows thoughtful.
Moving his bishop on white to C4, he says, “I was married for ten years. We divorced a year before the strikes. One of the last conversations I had with my mother was about the divorce, actually. Despite her years here in America, it was still not something she felt comfortable with. Nor did I, for that matter.” Jasper picks up his tea and sits back in his chair. His fingers stroke the rim absently. “I loved Soomin . . . very much.”
Jasper was married? I don’t know why that surprises me so much. Maybe because he seems so lonely to me, so distant and hard to reach. The lines of his throat are taut, like he’s holding in some strong emotion. It’s almost incredible to me, how the rest of him seems so calm and relaxed. Unless you were watching closely, you could think he hardly cared at all, despite his words.
Wanting him to keep talking, I stay silent and focus on the board. Jasper’s pieces seem more involved—and far more exposed. I want to get more pieces out to play; I’m feeling timid and trapped behind my line of pawns.
I move my knight to F6.
“I grew up in a trailer park,” I offer. Sucking in a deep breath, I continue, “My mother was an addict—I don’t know who my father was—and after I was born, she left me with my grandmother.”
“What was your grandmother like?” Jasper slides his queen to B3, placing several of my pieces in direct danger again.
Nerves slide like oil through my intestines. Needing to defend myself, I move my queen out to E7 to protect my pawn from his bishop.
“She was fine, as long as I followed her rules. But I minded my manners and went to church when she told me to, so we didn’t have any problems.”
His eyelashes shade his eyes, and when they fly open again, there’s a crease between his brows. “What I said to you, in the library, about your manners . . . that wasn’t based on anything you said or did, Eden. I’m sorry if I hit a nerve. I was upset about something else, and I have an unfortunate habit of cruelty when I’m caught off guard.”
I study him. “Is that one of the flaws you mentioned earlier? That you’re not so proud of?”
He looks away, unseeing, toward the teapot where it cools on the benchtop.
“It’s one of them,” he murmurs.
“I met my husband, Henry, when I was eighteen,” I quietly offer in return. “He was handsome, and wealthy, and I thought he was so kind when he did me the high honor of lifting me out of poverty. He worked so hard to help me slide easily into his world. To . . . correct . . . all my embarrassing behaviors.” My throat feels sore, no matter how I swallow. “And in exchange, I adored him.”