Daphne
I knew I was being too forward, inviting the king of the northern werewolves into my apartment, but I couldn’t help it. The idea of stepping inside alone and closing the door filled me with a kind of empty dread. I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted to be near him, even if all we did was sit on the couch and debate politics or something equally boring.
But once I shut the door behind him, I felt awkward. I guess it showed, too, because the man took pity on me. He glanced around the room, and his eyes fell on the chessboard that decorated one of the side tables. “Do you play chess, Daphne?”
“Um, no,” I admitted. “My brother Wyatt tried to teach me when I was a kid, but I was interested enough to sit through his tutorials. I went to the chessboard, which was made from marb
