Page 91 of Claim Me
"Maybe we should drop this topic," I mutter quietly, "he would most likely not be happy if he knew how much we were dissecting his personal life."
Veyron waves it off. "It’s fine, Gabriel. You’re here basically alone in that huge skyscraper, surrounded by strangers, you have no one to talk to." He hesitates, "Have you thought about inviting Marlow over once in a while? I exchanged a few messages with him recently, and he seemed pretty down. It’s his final year of veterinary school, but he says he has no idea what he wants to do afterward and has started questioning his choices. He could probably use a conversation with his brother. I don’t think he’d be comfortable opening up to me."
A sharp pang of worry hits me.
Marlow has never liked sharing his doubts, always keeping everything bottled up, and I’ve only managed to get through to him occasionally. Now, because of what I did and this contract, I left him to deal with everything on his own.
"As a matter of fact, I did. I’ll reach out to him soon. I hope he’s doing okay after that last breakup; he looked miserable."
"Seriously, he should consider omegas. Going after alphas is a waste of time, very few of them will ever take him seriously."
I sigh. "You can’t really control who you’re drawn to," I say quietly, glancing at Blue again.
I catch him turning away from me quickly. Was he watching me the whole time?
"Alright, let’s spar a bit more, I feel like I need some endorphins to drown this out."
"Sure!"
We go at it again, grappling across the mat, but my mind refuses to let go of that part of our conversation that was about Blue.
Does he really carry that kind of deep fear of relationships? Or is there more to it than that?
???
Half an hour later, Veyron and I have had enough. We are dripping with sweat, and Axel looks at us with disgust, but Blue doesn’t.
I have to agree with Veyron, Blue really is watching us more now, as our bodies glisten with sweat, and he seems less focused on the chess game.
I take Veyron to my bathroom so he can wash up, then walk him to the elevator to say goodbye.
As he’s leaving, he tells me, "If you believe something could come out of this, don’t give up, Gabriel. Some people say youhave to carve your own path in life, but those are the best ones, because they fit you perfectly. Keep your head up." He gives my shoulder a light pat just as the elevator doors slide shut.
I head back to the rooftop garden, where Blue and Axel are still playing.
A little unsure, I move closer and glance at the chessboard. It looks like they’re evenly matched, with almost the same number of pieces left.
I get the impression that what drives Blue’s performance is thesheerbrilliance of his mind rather than experience, since he doesn’t practice much, while Axel probably has years upon years of competitive play behind him and heavily relies on his hard-earned skillset.
I sit down in a rattan chair next to them and end up watching Blue, frankly staring rather intensely, my eyes like two hooks fixed on him. He notices it, and I can see he grows more fidgety, occasionally adjusting his glasses and brushing back loose strands of hair.
After some time of watching the game, I feel like saying something, making a comment or suggestion. I used to play chess with my brother, but I don’t quite have the nerve, and they’d probably just laugh it off anyway.
Axel’s gaze flicks up the moment I rub my chin, like he’s been expecting an interruption.
"Well," he says, smirking as he leans back slightly, eyes still on the board. "You got any advice for Blue, or are you just here to watch me win?"
Blue doesn’t look up. He just moves a piece between his fingers.
"I’m not really into chess," I start, already regretting stepping closer. "As a kid, I played with Dallas quite a lot, but he was awful and bullied me, calling me a short alpha brain, laughing off my mistakes, so I just gave up."
Axel tilts his head, sighing deeply. "That sounds like Dallas. But I’m definitely not him. And my uncle over here might actually benefit from an outside opinion. He plays too risky."
Blue finally glances at me for half a second, then back to the board, not commenting.
I hesitate, scanning the position. Something about the queen really feels slightly too exposed, too committed to the center without enough escape routes.
"Maybe…" I say slowly, "you could make the queen a bit safer. It’s sitting on a diagonal that’s getting more and more dangerous. If you tuck it back one square, you reduce the pressure and keep more control over the center."
