Page 1 of Carnal Games

Chapter One

Iris

(Past – Eighteen years old)

No one ever knows when their life is about to be irrevocably changed.

Or when a cosmic force is hurtling one toward a path from which there will be no turning back.

That one single moment will define the course of our life and the kind of person we become.

Whether for better or worse, only time will tell.

A voice deep inside my chest whispers I’m struck by the same force, making my heart flutter behind my ribs in a wild drumbeat. It’s the only explanation why I keep returning to the park, at six p.m. sharp every evening for the past week. As though the universe is yanking me forward with an invisible rope, hinting and propelling me toward something twisted yet magical.

A powerful awakening.

The depths of which I have yet to understand and swim in.

I sit under the shade of my favorite old neem tree. A group of kids the age of six or seven play football around me, their laughter and shouts blending into the warm breeze while my gaze remains firmly glued across the distance on the tall figure standing so rigidly that not even a tornado could knock him off.

The rugged, handsome stranger is the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

His beauty isn’t that of a sinner meant to lure an innocent prey. Though something tells me sin would be his middle name.

His heart-stopping looks are the likes of a regal and scary grim reaper sent to steal your soul and make you run in the opposite direction.

Either I’m naïve to the dangerous aura and the red flag energy he exudes, or a daring person for wanting to make a home amidst his danger; and, apparently, color blind too.

I chose the latter.

Because if he’s sin and fear personified, then I’m his loyal sinner.

His worshipper.

His devotee.

The first time I saw him, I had come to an abrupt halt on the side of the road circling the park. In a single second, I finally understood the true meaning and the rush behind the saying ‘took my breath away’.

I stood unblinking for the longest seconds before the invisible rope tugged my strings. My curiosity, which always gets the best of me, led me closer—enough to study him without drawing his attention—to sink his masculine features into my memory. Because I was certain it was a one-time sighting, like watching a shooting star fly by.

A part of me was afraid he’d vanish if I so much as blinked.

He didn’t look like he belonged on my street from the expensive way he was dressed. For one, he was wearing a pristine business suit that looked tailored to his physique.

Again, I recognized the difference because when the general male population wears a suit, something is always amiss. Either the fit or the inexperience in carrying it with confidence, or those god-awful wrinkles in the pants or shirts when it’s a size too big.

But Mr. Severe’s—that’s what I’ve nicknamed him because I’ve yet to see him crack a smile—didn’t have a single wrinkle in sight and he filled the suit with his muscular bulk in all the right places. Effortlessly.

Second, his vibe and posture screamed upper class. The crème de la crème. I could tell he grew up in a wealthy family from his nuances, minus the self-entitlement that accompanied it.

Men like him are a whole different breed.

Superior.

Exotic.

Untamable.

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