Hour by Hour (Games & Diversions #2) (12 page)

I open my eyes, gasping suddenly for air, coughing and sputtering under the shower stream as it sprays directly into my face.

I reach for the walls to keep myself upright, and I have to lean against one of them until I finally catch my breath.
Fuck.

A dream
—a vivid daydream. That’s all it was.

I’m still in the shower alone, and though I can practically smell Lukas on my skin, he’s not here with me in the bathroom. He was
never
really here.

I wash quickly, pelting myself with the hardest stream setting before climbing out red and hopefully ready to face Lukas again.

The dream makes me crave him like never before, and I crawl naked beneath his sheets, praying that I can keep my cool when he returns.

Praying
that I can prevent him from seeing that more than just lust lies in my eyes.

I wrap myself in his black comforter and wait.

And wait… and wait…

Twenty minutes pass by, and Lukas is still nowhere to be seen. I hop out of the bed.

I return to the bathroom, replacing the discarded shirt back on my shoulders, and then I’m off.

I pad carefully down the stairs, my bare feet slapping softly on the marble beneath. I start to turn a corner after reaching the bottom level when something stops me.

A clank from outside catches my ear.

I peek out of a side window towards the front of the house… and start to panic.

Lukas is pacing in front of his driveway. His march is heavy. His bare chest is marked with large black smears.

But it’s his face that unnerves me.

It wears a mask of
fury
, giving him the countenance of a thundering god of vengeance.

I’ve never seen him look so angry, and I cannot figure out what has happened to cause this change in him.

I open the door.

Clouds roll in as I exit the house and walk up the driveway to meet Lukas halfway. He doesn’t even see me.

“Lukas!” I call.

My shout surprises him; he looks up and into my face. I think he’s walking towards me, but then he doesn’t stop. He walks past me, growling as he goes.

“I need you to go back into the house,” he grumbles.

I stare after him—shocked. “
What
?”

“I need you in the house—
now
,” he shouts over his shoulder.

But I don’t listen.

I follow him up the driveway, clutching the shirt’s long sleeves between my fingers.

“What is going on?” I look down at his body. And for the first time, I notice the envelope squeezed in his hands. “What’s that?”

He turns on me.

“
Elena!
Do as I say. Go back in the house! This doesn’t concern you.”

I turn angry—fast.  “
No! I’m not going anywhere. What the
fuck
is going on around here? I want to know.”

Lukas acts like he doesn’t hear me. He continues marching towards the single stair in front of his house. And then he surprises me.

He collapses, sitting raggedly on the step, placing his head in his hands.

I run to him; I am unable to do anything else. I kneel at his side while he mutters incoherently to himself. I even manage to make out some of the words.

“
Checked the brakes.
The brakes are fine…
Mate
…
Mate
… What’s that mean? What do they
want
?
What could they poss
…”

And then I smell it. The smell of car oil. It’s on him, all over him.

He said he checked his brakes.
What does that mean?

I try to make an appeal to him. I place my hands on the sides of his face, looking intently into its beauty.

“Lukas,” I say softly. “
Tell me
.”

He says nothing. But he does look up at me. His eyes are distant, confused. He hands me the paper in his hand.

I open the crumpled envelope, noticing the letter inside. My stomach bottoms out.

My eyes scan back and forth across the letter’s text several times.

Time is running out to make your move. Didn’t the clock tell you anything?

You’re losing precious minutes. Your “mate” is getting closer and closer to danger…

By the way, have you “checked” the brakes lately? Hmmm…

Bishop to C7. Last chance.

The note sounds like a riddle—a play on words. It’s obviously alluding to chess, but it’s more
mocking
than it is funny. To me, the words don’t make sense, but nonetheless…

They scare the shit out of me.

Lukas grabs the hand that holds the note.

“
Elena,”
he says fiercely. “Did you drive your car last night?”

I blink—confused. “
Aphrodite
? No, I didn’t.”

“Did Kat?”

“No, Kat doesn’t have my car. What are you…?”

A sudden, close-by ringing nearly scares me half to death, and I jump up from where I kneel, joining Lukas’s side as he stands to reach into his back pocket.

From there, he removes his cell phone, answering it quickly.

His face soon twists into a scowl.

“
Slow down, Kat
. Take your time… I can’t understand you.”

Kat?!
What does she want?

Lukas looks over at me, covering the phone’s receiver.

“
You don’t have your phone?”
he says to me.

“It’s upstairs. It’s on silent.” A feeling of dread trickles down my spine.

“Why?” I ask. “What’s this about?”

But Lukas is already back on the phone. I speak to him as he tries to talk to Kat. I grow impatient.

“
What’s going on?”
I irritably demand. “What’s this about my car? About Aphrodite?
How does this…?”

Lukas cuts me off. “
Stop, Elle! Something’s happened.”

His expression drops, and he lowers the phone to his side. The trickle of dread I feel becomes a lightning bolt. Lukas looks directly at me.

“It’s Ana…”

Has the game sucked you in yet…?

I hope it has.

Round 3 of the Games & Diversions series
,
Minute by Minute
, begins December 29
th
, 2015….

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More on
Minute by Minute: Round 3
on the next page….

A word of advice to all players:

If your opponent cannot do anything active, then don't rush the position; instead you should let him sit there, suffer, and beg you for a draw. 

-
        
Jeremy Silman

That’s all you’ll get from Round 3…

For now.

There’s so much I’d like to say, but I think I’ll leave it until the end of the series—that way I can purge my heart’s content out. ;)

To my family, my friends, my readers, my beloved bloggers, my favorite Facebook ladies: you’ve kept me going through my toughest days.

I am thankful for you every day.

Natalie E. Wrye is a math geek by day, writer by night. She is a quirky, former Yankee living in Northwest Georgia with nothing but her Friends and Gilmore Girls reruns to keep her company.

Natalie started writing nonsensical stories at the ripe age of 6; she hopes things have changed since then. She loves chocolate, cuddly things, and large libraries. Oh...and she thinks it's pretty cool to talk in 3rd person.

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