Sacrifice of the Pawn: Spin-Off of the Surrender Trilogy (Surrender Games Book 1)

by Lydia Michaels

  “I swear.” Toni painted a thin coat on her lips and smiled. “You look gorgeous.”

  When Tyrian’s car pulled up Toni fluttered around like a nervous wreck.

  “You do realize he’s my date,” Isadora reminded dryly.

  “I know, but he’s so cute. How are you so calm?”

  She rolled her eyes. Toni was nervous enough for the both of them. “I shouldn’t be late. Behave yourself.”

  ***

  Tyrian was lovely company. He conversed easily, employed chivalrous manners any girl would appreciate, and he smelled good.

  They talked about the upcoming election with little tension, even though they were voting for different candidates. He was very diplomatic, never quite announcing which side of any position he favored, but making it clear he was well informed on several topics. They discussed their families and played a game of seven degrees of separation to see which friends they might have in common.

  His father was in the oil business, most of their company stationed down in Texas. It was refreshing, knowing his family had money. Not because she was superficial, but because it made her father’s fortune less obtrusive.

  At the end of the night, he walked her to the door and kissed her on the cheek. When she told Toni nothing happened, her sister seemed disappointed.

  “No,” Isadora disagreed. “A kiss on the cheek is classy. It says he likes me enough not to rush things and ruin the chance at a second date.”

  At least that was what she wanted her teenage sister to believe. Isadora honestly didn’t know what a cheek peck meant in adult dating terms.

  “Is there going to be a second date?”

  “I don’t know. I guess that depends on him.” She already decided that if he wanted to take her out again, she’d go on another date. But only if he wanted to. She refused to push him.

  But there was a second date. And a third. And a tenth.

  Over the next two months Tyrian became a steady part of her life. She had yet to feel any real butterflies like she experienced from the start of her and Sawyer’s intimate relationship, but she and Sawyer also slept together an hour after they discovered their chemistry. Maybe butterflies with Tyrian would come once they reached that stage.

  On their way to a new restaurant in Folsom they drove past Leningrad, one of her father’s many companies. Seeing the building where Sawyer spent a majority of his days brought about a slew of emotions she’d been camouflaging with convenient distractions for the past several months. But she refused to give into her curiosity, wondering where he was or how he’d been passing his time.

  Those sorts of thoughts still hurt. Still .

  She believed Tyrian was more than just a distraction. He was fun, entertaining, and often made her laugh. He was more like a sedative, dulling the ache in her heart and helping her pass time while she healed. But nothing, not even her new relationship, allowed her to escape the pain altogether.

  Pulling her gaze from Leningrad, she turned to her date and focused on the present. “I heard great things about this restaurant.”

  He smiled as he navigated the evening traffic. “Me too.”

  “Do you think there will be a wait?” The restaurant opened only a few days ago and the chef was a big crowd-pleaser according to reviews.

  “We have reservations, so we should get right in.”

  When they arrived at the restaurant there was a line snaking onto the pavement. Patrons were dressed in business formal attire and a valet service was working double time to keep up. Rather than wait in line, Tyrian escorted her to the hostess station.

  A man was complaining to the maître d’ so they waited a few paces back for the hostess to return.

  “Our reservations were for an hour ago. Why make reservations if you can’t honor them?” the patron argued.

  “Sir, I do apologize for the wait. You’re next to be seated.”

  Uh-oh. They might be waiting longer than expected.

  The man appeared utterly flustered. “It’s our anniversary. I made these reservations last week.”

  The maître d’ looked over the man’s shoulder and spotted them, abruptly forgetting about the unsatisfied patron in front of him. “Ah, Ms. Patras. We weren’t expecting you tonight.”

  She wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear as the couple celebrating their anniversary noted the host’s preferential attitude. Nudging Tyrian forward, she let him relay the details of their reservation.

  Tyrian gave his name and Isadora’s gaze skated back to the disgruntled man who was now making excuses to his wife. The woman wore what appeared to be a new dress. Her hair was done in a twist that looked fresh from a salon.

  Menus in hand, the hostess returned and the maître d’ instructed Isa and Tyrian to follow her into the dining room. Isadora hesitated and sent Tyrian a pleading look.

  “It’s their wedding anniversary,” she whispered.

  He glanced at the couple and back to her, appearing to read her mind. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded and he turned to the couple. “Please, take our table. You’re celebrating.”

  The man and woman wore matching expressions of surprise.

  “Sir,” the maître d’ protested, but Isadora ignored him, captivated by her date’s show of generosity.

  The couple thanked them profusely and she and Tyrian wished them a happy anniversary.

  As Tyrian escorted her back to the valet, he asked, “How do you feel about burgers and shakes?”

  Enchanted, she slipped her arm into his and stepped onto the pavement. “That sounds perfect.”

  They wound up at a little outdoor spot sipping shakes and eating greasy burgers. A mess of crumpled napkins piled between them as they picked at their fries.

  “I like to dip mine in my milkshake,” Tyrian said, slipping the plastic lid off his cup.

  “I do that too!”

  He laughed. “I’m also a fan of pretzels in ice cream.”

  “Mmm. I’ll have to try that.”

  In that moment she admitted to herself that she liked Tyrian as more than just a friend. Maybe instant butterflies weren’t the only way people felt affection. Maybe some connections developed at a slower pace and came with other signals.

  With every date their kisses grew more frantic and the need to do more increased until they were practically clawing at each other’s clothing in the front seat of his car. Isadora missed fooling around and Tyrian was a good kisser, but sometimes when she shut her eyes she accidentally pictured someone else’s face.

  Pulling apart, Tyrian eyed her with evident desire. “How would you feel about spending tomorrow night at my place?”

  His question was expected, but it still managed to take her off guard. Despite her ramped up libido, her stomach plummeted.

  Were they already there? At that point? Her mind immediately went to Sawyer. Agreeing to spend the night with Tyrian felt like sweeping a big eraser over her past, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to do.

  Was Sawyer sleeping with someone else?

  Don’t go there.

  It had been months and Sawyer hadn’t contacted her while she’d tried to move on with her life. But she often worried he might be lonely in that huge house all by himself. She inwardly sighed and looked down into her lap. Forcing herself to move forward was supposed to ease the pain. So why did this decision hurt?

  She was no longer wallowing over the things she couldn’t have. She was too busy to feel badly about her situation. But when life got quiet, the ache in her heart knocked her down hard. And every time she had to pick herself back up she was reminded how much he’d hurt her and tampered with her trusting nature, causing issues in other parts of her life.

  But sometimes, when she was with Tyrian, she forgot to think about Sawyer at all. That always made her feel victorious and guilty at the same time.

  She was doing things with her life, becoming more independent every day. Yet she’d never felt so artificial.

  The sex appea
l was there, but only as a biological response. The desire to date was real, but only to subdue her loneliness. She wasn’t sure if anything she was experiencing actually had to do with Tyrian. Yet it seemed to have everything to do with Sawyer and the mess he’d left.

  Glancing at Tyrian she tallied his good qualities. There were a lot. He was a great guy, a true gentleman, and most importantly, he seemed genuinely open to possibly falling in love.

  When she thought of his drawbacks there was only one. He wasn’t Sawyer.

  She didn’t love Tyrian, but she also hadn’t loved Sawyer from the start. Love took time and maybe she wasn’t giving it or Tyrian a chance. She wanted someone to love her, someone who would never hurt her.

  Was that even possible?

  The familiar pang that dulled but never waned swept through her as her fingers tightened into a fist. She doubted that the ache would ever disappear, so there was no point in prolonging the inevitable.

  She glanced again at Tyrian. Did she trust him? Yes. Would he be a good lover? Probably. Did she want to have sex? Desperately, but what if it was different and not in a good way?

  “Isa?”

  Most women her age had multiple experiences with numerous men. Was it really such a big deal to take a risk and try something new? Recollections of her brother and Sawyer encouraging her to step out of her comfort zone raced through her mind. She was on the cusp of something—maybe a great something—but she needed a little push.

  She forced herself to say the words. “I can call my brother to see if he can stay with Toni tomorrow night.” That at least gave her twenty-four hours to come to terms with her decision.

  Tyrian kissed her, his hunger and excitement evident, but her private misgivings made it impossible to revel in her own anticipation.

  Several times throughout the following day she considered faking the flu and canceling, but she never worked up the nerve to make the call. Like everything else in her romantic life, sleeping with Tyrian set her head and heart in opposing positions. Her brain told her sex with someone new would be good for her, but her heart whimpered every time she tried to picture making love to anyone but Sawyer.

  Before she knew it, she was dressing for her date and Lucian had arrived to stay with Toni. Although her sister was old enough to watch herself, Isadora didn’t want her staying home alone all night and she had no idea if she’d be back before morning.

  It was happening. Something was definitely swirling in her stomach, but she was pretty sure they weren’t butterflies. Several times while getting ready she had to pause and take a deep breath.

  “Am I going to meet him?” Lucian asked, as he scooped ice cream into bowls in the kitchen.

  “That depends on your behavior,” Isa teased, finding her brother a great distraction from her nerves. “You’re always threatening the boys Toni likes.”

  “That’s because they want to do things to my sister.”

  She arched a brow. “And I called you over so I could go out and play checkers? Why do you think you’re here, Lucian?”

  “So you want me to kill him?”

  She laughed. “You’re too easy.” She closed her purse and went to the front window to check if Tyrian had arrived while Lucian trailed behind, his expensive shoes making only the slightest sound in their entryway.

  “You like this guy.”

  It was a strange assessment, one she couldn’t deny or fully agree with.

  “It’s still early.”

  Headlights turned onto their property and her heart tripped out of beat.

  “This isn’t the same guy from before, is it?”

  She let the curtains fall. “No. That’s over.”

  It was important to say it out loud, but excruciating to hear.

  She said goodnight to Toni and met Tyrian in the driveway. Lucian followed her outside and shook his hand, but saved the cross-examination for another time.

  Isadora never had an active father in her life, but in that moment she felt like she did. Somehow embarrassed that her little brother was assessing a man she intended to sleep with, she said a quick goodnight and politely urged Tyrian into the car.

  When they arrived at his place Tyrian cooked a homemade meal, which helped relieve some of her tension. Dinner was casual and they both appeared at ease. She was quite impressed with his culinary skills.

  “Everything was delicious. Thank you.”

  “I have to admit, I called my mom about a hundred times asking questions.”

  “That’s sweet.” He was so close to his parents. The next step in their relationship was probably for her to meet them.

  Trying to imagine how that might go made her feel like an absolute phony. She so badly wanted to be in a committed serious relationship, but her heart never seemed to follow the right pace. She hoped delay that introduction as long as possible. Maybe in time, as they crossed certain benchmarks, meeting his family wouldn’t feel so intimidating.

  After dinner they sat in the living room and talked, which eventually led to kissing. Regardless of her reservations, a tender tugging formed in her belly and she found herself leaning closer in an invitation for more. It had been so long since she’d had sex, her body was perhaps making the greatest argument of all.

  “Do you want to go upstairs?” he whispered, his lips playing over her throat and teasing a sensitive spot at her collarbone.

  Giving a slight nod of agreement, she adjusted her clothes and he helped her off the couch. But as she stood her body quickly cooled. Her legs seemed made of cement as she trudged up the stairs, making it harder to move the closer they came to his bedroom.

  By the time they reached his room her heart was winning and her brain’s arguments to push forward had quieted into soft whispers racing through her confused mind. Meanwhile, her body was so tense, she couldn’t figure out if her heart was racing with anticipation or fear.

  She was going to back out. She came here, convinced herself this was right, and now she was going to completely embarrass the both of them by changing her mind.

  No! If she wanted to heal she had to keep moving. Her heart was one thing, but she was not frigid. She was momentarily spooked, but downstairs her body had been having all the proper biological responses. And her brain, before this very moment, had decided this was right. She was just getting cold feet. Brain plus body had to outnumber heart.

  You’re doing this! Once it’s done it won’t feel so unfamiliar. You’re getting yourself worked up for nothing!

  Stepping to opposite sides of the bed, she thought in terms of movement, breaking every task down into manageable increments. Clothes would need to come off and she would need to lie down.

  Start with your shirt…

  She needed to shove past this mental blockade and force her hands to cooperate. Her mind flashed to the night she’d first met Tyrian. Sawyer had inadvertently orchestrated that, insisting she dance with another man.

  Sawyer is gone. It’s over. He doesn’t want you anymore. This is what he wanted for you.

  Something other than fear broke through the wall. Anger.

  You have to move on. This is the next step. You need to get over him.

  Her anger morphed into understanding. Sawyer was right. He was her safety net, her familiar home, but she’d never experience anything worthwhile if she couldn’t jump into the unknown.

  You might enjoy it. Just let it happen.

  Her shoulders unknotted as she considered how pleasurable it might be. First times were always a touch awkward, weren’t they?

  Can you see yourself having children with this man?

  A mental wall slammed down, thereby shoving her out of her thoughts and plummeting her into the present. Time to stop thinking and start doing.

  With an unsteady hand, she unbuttoned the front of her blouse, her fingers working robotically from top to bottom as her eyes focused on the bed. Drawing in a deep breath, she forced herself to meet his gaze, but could only hold it for a split second, so she slid off her
jeans.

  Breathing unsteadily, she stood before him in her bra and panties. Her gaze traveled over the bedding as she watched him undress through her lashes. Still unable to make eye contact, she slid under the covers and he did the same.

  Her heart rattled like a tin can dragging down a country road. She could hardly move a muscle for fear that she might run out of the room like a lunatic. The light went off and her panic skyrocketed. His body eased closer, and at the first brush of his hand over her hip her mind took a vacation, traveling outside of herself where she watched the moment like an outsider looking in.

  Unlike Sawyer, Tyrian touched her in an almost mathematical sense, as if her body was a formula he needed to solve. His touch moved from her breasts to her sides to her hips, and back to her breasts again, as if this would somehow equate to sex. It was as clinical and as unemotional as a doctor exam, the sort during which you stare at a pharmaceutical ad so your mind can get through without screaming.

  He didn’t caress her the way Sawyer did, yet he’d done enough for her body to form a biological response. Rolling to his side, he reached into a drawer and tore open a foil packet.

  She’d never had sex with a condom, but was glad for it in this instance. The idea of having nothing between them was far too intimate.

  He fit himself between her legs, his nearness overwhelming and her knees trembling. A tightness formed in her chest, swelling up to her throat as her eyes prickled.

  “You’re tight. Try to relax, babe.”

  His voice was gentle, as was his touch. Her mind teetered between willing her body to open and telling him to get off. Before she made up her mind, he pressed forward and there was no going back.

  She’d agreed to this. At some point she’d convinced herself this was necessary. Yet, as he pumped his hips between her thighs, breathed over her skin, touched her breasts, and took his pleasure, she felt like something sacred was being ripped away.

  Sawyer had been her first and her only. He was her first partner, her first relationship, her first love. With every thrust she felt his memory slipping away. Staring over Tyrian’s shoulder into the dark, a slow tear trickled to her hair.