Page 6 of Darcy
“Don’t jinx it,” Dodger warns. “This dungeon has been tearing us a new one, and I want out of here.”
Ba dum tss.
[HzD]Proph3t
Pineapple belongs on pizza. Now *please* heal my ass.
I cackle and—with the press of a button and a little mana sacrifice—Prophet’s orc roars, standing straight, all his status ailments gone in one sweep.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” I coo.
Prophet grumbles what sounds like a curse. “Don’t push your luck.”
“When are you going to give us better ringtones,cariño?” Slate asks, changing the subject before I can tease Prophet into regretting his actions. “Mine is just…” He makes a noise that can only be interpreted as a verbal shudder.
“Aww, but I thought you liked it,” I smile. “It fits you so well.”
“Stop teasing them,” Dodger says, his avatar making a rude gesture which smoothly returns my attention back to the game. “Come on. We’ve got a dungeon to finish.”
“Yes, sir, Dodge, sir.” I use the honorific just because I know it will drive him crazy, but there’s no drawing a rise out of him.
Not yet, anyway.
Three
Darcy
The message comes as we’re winding down for the night—well, morning, really, given that it’s well past midnight. The tone—a deafening tyre squeal—matches his car obsession.
[HzD]D0dgeVip3r
stay online
Two words that set my heart racing. I knew this was coming. I’ll never admit it, but I’ve been silently hoping for it since that stupid break up text.
The second the clan has said our goodbyes, Dodger drags me into a separate, private, voice chat.
“Five seconds,” he requests.
The sounds of rustling and doors closing fill my ears, along with a few masculine grunts, until it’s silent once more. When we’re alone like this, every note of his voice whispers over my skin like dark velvet, and I can’t help my shiver.
“Was that little bratty display earlier a sign you’re ready to play, baby girl?”
I bite my lip, knowing I should say no. Any sane person would consider the night after a breakup to be too soon. But Dodger and I have been playing this game for so long that it’s less like a rebound and more like coming home.
I must take too long to answer, because he hums under his breath.
“You rethinking our agreement?” he asks.
If I said I was, he’d wait. He’s done it before, when I was too raw from a toxic relationship to do anything. But that was a long time ago.
“No,” I whisper back.
“Good.” One word, but he doesn’t even try to conceal the lazy satisfaction behind it. “I wish I could say I’m sorry that the latest ‘Mr. Right’ didn’t work out, but since it means you’re finally mine again…” He trails off, and somewhere deep in my chest something aches.
Because, yes, I am his. Until the next one. Our first virtual hook up was an accident, and I quickly broke it off. After all, this isn’t going to go anywhere. Whatever relationship we could have is doomed, and I’m looking for more than he—or any of his band—could give me. But we’re like two asteroids, forever orbiting one another, and after I broke up with Michael—or was it Daniel?—we found ourselves back here again.
Still, sometimes I like to pretend…
