The Immortal Game (book 1) by Joannah Miley Read Free Book Online Page A

espresso counter with Langston, the tall poet—Ash and Sage’s brother.
    A sudden darkness came over her, followed by an unexpected shiver of fear. Maybe it was the exam. Maybe she hadn’t done as well as she imagined. She shook her head and tried to chase the feeling away, but it lingered.
    Sage looked up when Ruby reached the counter. Langston was leaning with one elbow on the glass top. A woman in a short denim skirt rested against the curve of his bent body.
    “Rubes,” he said, as if he knew her, though no one had ever called her that before.
    Sage held a tattered book with a single gold word stamped on the stained yellow cover: Myths. “Look at the illustrations,” she said as if Langston hadn’t spoken. “Hand-drawn lithographs.” She opened the book to a picture of a young woman with long flowing hair standing in a field of wild flowers. The woman held a large bouquet against her body with one arm. It would have been an idyllic scene if it weren’t for the black robed figure coming up out of the ground pulling her down as if he would drag her into the earth with him.
    “Hades and Persephone,” Sage offered.
    “Yeah, I think I remember that one,” Ruby said, thinking back to her mythology class from the previous term. “He’s the god of the dead. Right? He kidnapped Persephone and took her to the Underworld to make her his queen. Or something.” She paused, not sure if she had the story right. She had skimmed most of the reading in that class.
    “Or something,” Langston said sarcastically.
    Sage shot him a dark look. “Ruby, this is Langston.”
    He stood up to his full height. He was at least six-and-a-half feet tall. Ruby felt the strain in her neck as she looked at his classic sharp features, platinum-blond hair, and sky blue eyes that were a foot above hers. He wore white pants and a green polo shirt. The smell of his cologne was subtle, but out of place in the Athenaeum, with grungy college kids sitting at most of the tables and the heavy smell of coffee in the air. He wasn’t a typical coffeehouse poet. He might have been more at home at a country club with a stem of champagne in his hand.
    “A pleasure.” He winked. She took his hand to shake it but almost pulled away when he turned it over, bowed, and brought her hand up to his warm lips to kiss the back.
    She smiled awkwardly at the antiquated gesture and glanced at the dark-haired woman standing there. She wore thick eyeliner and a heavy metal T-shirt with the denim skirt that just managed to cover her backside. No one introduced the woman. Ruby smiled at her, but she didn’t smile back.
    “I was about to read my latest poem: “The Immediacy of Lust .” He drew out the last word and glanced at the woman in the denim skirt. An ivy leaf stuck out of the black journal he held up like it was a bookmark.
    “What can I get you, Ruby?” Sage asked, ignoring Langston.
    “Double latte, please,” she said, glad Sage had changed the subject. “And …” she peered into the glassed-in case of Ambrosia Bars, brown and plain looking, “ that Ambrosia Bar.” She pointed to a fat one with golden filling oozing out the side.
    Sage measured out the coffee and looked at Ruby. “You okay? You look tired.”
    Ruby nodded. She didn’t want to talk about the exam. It turned out she wouldn’t have to.
    Ash was suddenly there, standing next to her, close enough that she could feel heat coming off his body. She glanced at him and noted in an instant the broken-in jeans, the blue Henley shirt, the black cowboy boots. His hair was unruly. Part rodeo, part grunge. Very un-country club. A giddiness rose in her chest. She tried to swallow it down.
    “Hey,” he said, in that low husky voice that made her stomach flutter.
    She looked at the chess table. The blond woman he had been playing reached for her bag, glanced in their direction with a scowl, and turned to leave.
    “She beat you?” Ruby asked.
    “What?” His eyebrows came together in a V.