Page 40 of Royal Games (The Royals of Monterra)

“I’ve got it,” I said, tugging the plate out of his hands.

Aunt Sylvia asked him a question about what kind of games he hoped to create, and while they talked about that I started washing the dinner dishes. Even though I had my back to them, I knew he was looking at me. I turned off the faucet after I filled the left side with water and dishwashing soap. I had always found washing dishes soothing. Right now it was anything but.

Every time he shifted or moved, I knew it. Like I was tuned in to a frequency he emitted and I was the only person who could hear it. Then he laughed, and I grabbed the sink, locking my elbows into place. That laugh. It did something to me. Not something physical. Something emotional. There had been a time when we’d laughed constantly while we were together, and I realized that I missed it. This moodiness was different. Like somebody was walking around with a Rafe suit on, impersonating him.

Of course he’s sad. He’s in love with you and you can’t even stand to be in the same room with him.

In love? I raised a soapy, wet hand to my throat, trying to calm down the emotions that swelled there. He’d never told me he loved me. He obviously cared about me. And we were so attracted to each other we were like a couple of powerful magnets.

My physics professor had once mentioned that the Chinese were the first people to discover magnetic rocks. They called them “loving stones.” They had meant that the magnets loved metal just like a parent loved a child, but I was discovering that there was a whole different level to the loving stone. I wanted to repel him, but instead I kept ending up in his arms.

While I was caught up in my thoughts, I realized that Rafe had been showing Aunt Sylvia pictures on his phone. Of his home, his family. And then there were the ones of us.

“Genesis! Here’s the two of you in Mexico! Are you in an elevator?”

The plate I had been drying slipped out of my hand, landing on the ground with a loud crash.

Rafe came over to help me clean it up, but I shooed him away. I didn’t like to think about what had happened in Mexico.

It had been my very first time out of the country. And definitely my first time traveling with a man. We’d gone on a private jet, and I’d made sure to keep the window shades up. For some reason I didn’t feel so confined as long as I could still see outside.

We talked and laughed and kissed and cuddled together on one of the built-in couches. I told him about growing up on a farm, and he told me what it was like to come from a large family.

Some part of me felt guilty that we liked each other so much and that I was so deliriously happy. I would think about Lemon and the other girls and how they talked about him, how hopeful everyone was. And even though Lemon denied liking Rafe, I mean, Dante (as everyone else called him, including me when we weren’t alone; it gave me such a thrill that I was the only one who got to call him Rafe), I got the feeling that it wasn’t true—that Lemon liked Dante more than she let on. Which turned out to be right, seeing as how she and the actual Dante were about to get married.

Anyway, after we had landed in Cozumel, a limo whisked us away to a stunning four-star hotel. When we arrived, I saw a large banner and shrieked with glee. “There’s a Comic-Con going on here?”

“I thought you would like it,” he said, grinning as I bounced up and down on my seat. “You’re the only woman I know who would enjoy this as much as I would.” The limo pulled up in front of the hotel, behind several other taxis and limos. I had thought we were coming down here to lie on white sand beaches and drink virgin piña coladas. This had never even occurred to me as a possibility, but I would more than just enjoy it. It was one of the best things that had ever happened to me.

“But I don’t have a costume!” How could you go to Comic-Con and not dress up?

“Don’t you?” he countered with a wink. “Maybe you should check your room first.”

Giddy, I leaned forward in my seat, craning my neck toward the window. “How long will this line take?” I asked impatiently. “And what kind of costume is it?”

“You’ll have to see.” I narrowed my eyes at him. He was being mysterious and seemed awfully pleased with himself.

“What. Costume?” I said. If he put me in some thigh-high outfit with plunging cleavage, there was going to be a discussion.

“Well, since you’re a Trekkie ...” His voice trailed off when I smacked him with my purse. “Ow!” he laughed. “I guess I should be glad you had your phasers on stun.”

I was tempted to smack him again, even though I secretly loved it when he talked nerdy to me. “I’m not a Trekkie. I just likeStar Trek.”

“You like every version of it. Television and movies. And books and some fan fiction.”

“So do lots of other people.”

“Yes. They’re called Trekkies. Plus, I’m pretty sure denying your fandom is a violation of the Prime Directive.”

I tossed my hair over my shoulder, while he cracked himself up over his joke. “I like to think of myself as a Trekspert.”

He took my hand and squeezed, sending a thrill straight into my heart. “I think it’s adorable that you’re a nerd.”

The limo edged forward. “I prefer scientifically-abled. And you’re one to talk. That’s the techie calling the geek a nerd.”

He raised his eyebrows at me, clearly lost. He’d mentioned once that English wasn’t his first language. I’d asked him what was, but he changed the subject. He seemed to do that a lot when I asked anything too personal.

“Sorry,” I said. “I was trying to do a pot, kettle, and blackness thing and it didn’t work. Don’t mind me.”

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