Heather Killough Walden The Game (pdf)

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All right, she nodded, speaking softly. Thank you.
Not a problem, he nodded, back, raising his hand to signal that she should go inside first.
Victoria climbed the stairs, feeling the presence of the large man at her back. His nearness
was causing her body to flush warm. Or maybe that was just her power, waiting to be used.
Either way, she felt the heat course through her veins and tease her nerve endings.
When she made it to the double doors, the blonde man reached around and over her and
pushed one of them open. Her hopeless blush deepened and she went inside.
* * * *
In the darkness beyond the reach of the village lights, a man in black watched the golden-
haired woman disappear into the tavern s warm environment. His gaze narrowed, his eyes
glittering with dark deliberation as the tall, fair-haired stranger followed closely behind her.
The watcher s eyes began to glow in the shadows, jealousy rearing its head and rushing
liquid fury through his tall form. He stood from where he d been crouching beneath the sheltering
black leaves of a low-lying tree.
He waited there, silent and still, for several minutes, his dark gaze never leaving the double
doors where Victoria Red and her very large acquaintance had disappeared. He weighed his
options carefully.
And then he stepped out onto the village road and made his way toward the tavern.
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The Game
Chapter Twelve
Victoria sat down in the wooden chair that the large man held out for her, and then jumped
only slightly when he pushed the chair in toward the thick, round table. He took the seat across
from her, his massive form as sturdy-looking as the rough hewn furniture that supplied the large
tavern.
He raised his arm, and she assumed he was going to wave a serving woman to their table, as
she d seen someone do in Room 73 at the TGB.
Wench! Over here! He barked the order, and a woman with short black hair and breasts
shoved up so high that they nearly bounded out of her girdle spun around to face him. Her blue
eyes were wide and her face was ashen.
I m on me way! She responded, and Victoria s own eyes widened at the exchange.
You could have said please, she told the man across from her.
Brown eyes cut to her and she stilled in her chair, pinned beneath that damn steady gaze
again. He smiled, but for some reason, it didn t so much put her at ease as change the nature of
her anxiety. Still, she noticed that his eyes glittered with something like amusement.
Is that what they say where you re from? He asked.
Victoria took a moment to clear her throat; it had closed up a bit. Yes, she finally replied.
Then, with more force, it is.
I see. He nodded his understanding and she wasn t sure whether he was teasing her or not.
Very well.
The woman approached the table and the man turned to her. Please bring my companion a
dinner and an ale, wench. And make it quick. I swear I can see her losing weight even as we sit
here.
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Heather Killough-Walden
Again, Victoria s eyes widened. She blushed furiously this time, a hard retort rising to her
tongue even as the serving woman nodded her consent and spun away.
Excuse me! she hissed, trying to keep her voice down, despite her sharp disapproval. My
weight? She asked, incredulously. What in the world is wrong with my weight?
He chuckled. Not a thing, little one, except that you need more of it. You re a beautiful
woman, don t get me wrong. But you look as if you d break in a bit of rough and tumble.
Victoria s eyebrows shot toward the ceiling. She was torn between being complimented,
albeit embarrassed, by his calling her a beautiful woman and being insulted by his reference
to sex. After several seconds, she still couldn t think of what to say, so this time, she just kept her
retort to herself. If you can t say something nice& . Her mother had always told her that.
Victoria froze.
Her mother? What the hell was she thinking? She had no mother.
Right?
That s what Game Control had told her. She was an orphan taken from one of the sectors
when she was ten years old and brought to play on the Field after one of those tests they give to
every child orphan or not.
The stranger was watching her carefully now. His expression was guarded, but his eyes took
everything in.
Victoria hurriedly filed the mental misstep away and attempted to regain her composure. The
man was buying her dinner; she should at least engage him in friendly conversation. There was
no good reason to piss him off with a lecture on table etiquette or bore him with strange
memories.
What is your name? she asked, glancing up as someone came through the front doors of
the tavern. The newcomer was a young man with dirty-blonde hair and worn clothes that matched
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The Game
the general, sensible fashion of everyone else in the tavern. He took a seat at the bar and Victoria
looked back at the man across from her.
He studied her for a moment. I m Anders, he told her. Now it s your turn.
She thought about whether she should tell him or not; could he be questioned by Victor
later? Then she sighed and shrugged. It didn t matter. She already stood out enough that she
made an impression; her manner of dress, alone, would set her apart in his memory.
I m Victoria, she said, Victoria Red. She started to extend her hand in order to shake his,
but when she recalled that she was no longer on the Field, she hesitated. Did they shake hands
here?
As if to quell her fears, he extended his own hand over the table top. When she relaxed and
brought hers out again, he grasped it firmly at the wrist.
Victoria s power leapt to life inside of her and her palm grew warm. But, just as she was
beginning to wonder if she would have to set Anders on fire, he chuckled and gestured to the
hand he held. You re supposed to grasp my wrist as well, little one. It s the way people greet in
these parts.
She blinked. Oh. Wow, am I ever astute tonight. How many stupid times am I going to say
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