Read Online Checkmate by Katherine Kingston - Free Book Online Page A

partner-opponent.
    Then the dance brought them together, and he made the move
more of a lunge, signaling it to her in plenty of time to let her parry it. He
closed with her so their chests pressed together.
    Despite the time, the place and the crowd watching,
awareness of him slammed into her like a fist into the gut. An
adrenaline-fueled burst of exultation jolted through her. This was an amazing
experience, doing an exotic and elemental cross between a mating dance and a
duel. The first tingles of arousal prickled in her cunt.
    When he whispered into her ear, his breath fluttering
against the delicate tissues there, it sent a fire of need and desire coursing
through her. She had to force herself to pay attention to the words.
    “Next reverse. Lunge from the right.” It was an order rather
than a statement. She nodded as he backed away, still following the footstep
pattern of the dance. They circled, lunged, feinted, parried and watched each
other until her internalized rhythm of the dance told her it was time for the
reverse.
    She dipped her right shoulder a bare fraction before she
took three fast steps toward him, bringing the knife around from the right.
Though he was half turned from her, he saw it and whirled in a blindingly fast
move to parry and push both blades away, even as the momentum of her charge
took her straight into his side. With his superior reach and speed, she
wouldn’t have a prayer against him if this were the real thing.
    Her blood pumped even harder as she clung to his body for a
moment. She panted from the exertion, but desire added its own acceleration.
    “Good,” he whispered to her. “I’ll come underneath…next.”
The low, intimate sound of the words made them almost a sexual promise. Her
body reacted with swelling and moisture in her cunt. She tamped it down to
concentrate on the action.
    He executed the promised maneuver. With the adrenaline
pumping and her muscles warmed up, she did a better job of selling her reaction
as a frantic parry. She warned him with a finger gesture before she closed on a
rapid series of swipes and lunges that he turned away with more effort than
required.
    They continued to dance around each other, back and forth,
lunging and feinting until exhaustion began to overwhelm the effects of the
adrenaline. She had no idea how long they’d been at it, but it seemed like more
than an hour. Muscles in her legs and chest began to burn.
    She might not know how to judge the Sangari’s reactions
properly, but the noise level had grown and become more enthusiastic throughout
their match. Surely they thought it a worthy match by then.
    Raje’s breathing was so ragged he could barely whisper the
words when next they came together. “End it. Leave you an opening. Left arm.
Twist right.”
    It annoyed her that he’d unilaterally decided she should win
the match. But someone had to do it and there was no time for debate. She
watched for the betraying twist.
    When she saw it she lunged forward with the knife held out
in front and stabbed at his left arm. It struck him a few inches above the
wrist. She didn’t think the blade went in deeply but blood immediately ran down
his arm.
    He dropped his weapon and slapped a hand over the wound. The
Sangari who’d started the match stepped into the ring and declared it over. The
injury worried her. It shouldn’t be deep or serious, requiring nothing more
than a plastiseal bandage to heal it. She hoped. When she questioned him with
her eyes, he made a tiny thumbs-up motion to reassure her.
    Devonne continued to watch Raje, even as others moved
between them. She wanted to go to him but dared not.
    Instead her Sangari guards escorted her back to the same
room she’d been in earlier and told her to change into her own clothes. She
asked about a shower but apparently that wasn’t happening. She’d have to wait
for a bath when they returned her to her cell.
    As the adrenaline began to wear off, she started to shake.
For most of the