Knight Series Book 1: Knight Takes Bishop
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Laila Callaway
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Lana’s done kissing frogs—and bad imitators of her dream predator. She craves a man who can chase her for real, one who feels the pull of that same primal connection she’s always imagined. Erick, meanwhile, has a different kind of problem: as the CEO of a matchmaking empire, he’s being told to find a wife—fast. Trouble is, the only woman who stirs his instincts doesn’t want to be caught easily. When their worlds collide, sparks fly, instincts roar, and the game begins. But in this chase, who’s really hunting whom?
Chapter 1: The Perfect Guy
LANA
“Why are you smiling like that?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at Chris. “Have you farted?”
He snorts, throwing his head back. He shakes his head at me. “No, I haven’t farted. I’m smiling because, believe it or not, I’m happy.”
“Aw, I missed you too,” I croon at him teasingly.
He rolls his eyes and throws his arm around my shoulders. I breathe in his cologne, spicy orange. Chris is my gay best friend, and I haven’t seen him in a month.
He went to Greece with his family for two weeks, then I went to Spain with my sister for two weeks. The timing sucked; I’ve really missed him.
“Of course I missed you. But actually, there’s another reason I’m smiling. His name is Paul.”
“Paul?” I turn to him and grin. “Paul? Please tell me he’s someone you’re seeing and not a new dildo.”
“Oh, he’s better than a dildo,” Chris grins. “He’s my boyfriend.”
“Shut up! Really? Oh, Chris, that’s amazing!”
“He is pretty amazing,” Chris agrees, his eyes shiny as he thinks of his fella.
“Tell me about him then.”
“He’s thirty-one and a real estate agent. He’s really successful, actually—has his own company and everything. I met him when I got back from Greece because I’d arranged to look at some flats. We got talking, and, well, the rest is history.”
“How long have you been dating then?”
“Since that first viewing two weeks ago, and he told me on the first date that he wanted to be exclusive and didn’t want me dating anyone else. It was really hot. Not controlling or possessive at all; it was just…sexy the way he knew what he wanted,” he says, sighing contently.
“I’m so happy for you,” I tell him and squeeze his hand.
“So, how’s your love life going?” he asks as I pull a bottle of wine out of the fridge with two chilled glasses.
“Ugh, can we not?” I groan. “It’s embarrassing enough having to live it, let alone talk about it.”
“Hush, I’m your best friend; this is what I’m here for. Talk to me.”
“It’s nonexistent,” I tell him and sigh heavily.
I pour us each a glass of wine and put the bottle back. I flop down on my sofa, a large glass of wine in my hand. Chris sits down next to me and sips his own wine.
“I thought you had joined that new dating app?”
“It’s the same situation as I have with the others,” I admit. “They don’t know what I want.”
Chris looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue.
“It’s just so hard to find a guy who isn’t using it as a power trip, you know?” I roll the stem of my glass between my palms as I talk. “Like, if I tell one of those guys on a dating app that I have a Primal kink, they either think it means I’m this freak between the sheets and I’ll be down for anything, and they try to stick something in my ass or tie me up without permission, or they think it’s an excuse to hit me and that I’m this masochist who loves being beaten up. They don’t understand.”
Being a Primal has so many layers, and these clueless guys can’t even scratch the surface. They have no idea why I like what I like; they don’t take the time to ask why or what or how I want it. They just hear I have a kink and go nuts with kiddy excitement.
Poor Chris has opened up the floodgates now; the words just come pouring out of me. This is hardly something I can vent to my parents about.
“I’m so scared to even mention it that I don’t, and I compromise with vanilla sex and spend the whole time with my eyes closed, playing out my fantasy.”
Chris grimaces and pats my hand. “Ah, babe, that’s shit.”
He knows all about acting out a fantasy in your head by yourself. Chris didn’t come out till he was twenty, and he spent two years having sex with women, closing his eyes and pretending they were guys.
“Why don’t you go to a sex club? There must be groups or places for people with the same kink, right? God knows you’ve got enough books on it,” he says, gesturing to all my Primal kink books on my bookshelf.
They have their own shelf, place of pride. They’re the stories that stop me from giving up hope. They’re also the primary source of content for my fantasies.
“Because the people there either already have a play partner or they’re creepy as fuck. I went to one once, and I’m still scarred; it was so pervy. They obviously didn’t screen their guests well enough,” I explain, shuddering at the memory.
The guys there lurk in corners, salivating and openly ogling women who walk by, taken or not. The whole thing feels lewd and dirty and horrible, nothing how I imagine my own Primal relationship to be.
“Did you see that article about that boyfriend that accidentally strangled his girlfriend during sex because they were trying out breath play?” I blurt to Chris. “That’s what scares me; there are so many fucking amateurs out there. I don’t know how to find someone who knows what I want and is a sexual deviant, not a raging pervert.”
Chris puts his arm around me again and gives me a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Lana. If I was straight, I’d be your guy. But I happen to really love dick.”
“Yeah,” I snort. “Me too.” I take another swig of my wine. “I’ll just have to rely on normal sex until I find a guy to fall in love with. Then I can tell them about Primal and teach them.”
Chris grunts. “But it’s not very sexy to have to teach your predator to prey on you, is it?”
I swirl my finger around the edge of my wineglass and shake my head despondently. “No, it isn’t.”
We’re both quiet for a moment, and guilt niggles at me. I haven’t seen Chris in over a month and this is how I welcome him back?
“Ugh, listen to me being such a fun sponge!” I whine. “Tell me more about Paul.”
***
I insist on having Chris and Paul over for dinner so that I can meet the man who has swept my best friend off his feet. A week later, they’re at my apartment, eating chicken fettuccine and drinking white wine.
“So, what is it you do, Lana?”
“I work in the marketing department of a cosmetics company. Mostly, I get to design ads and create social media content. It’s not bad.”
Chris snorts derisively. “She’s overworked and underappreciated. I keep telling her to quit.”
“And I keep telling you I like my job,” I retort.
“Of course you like the job; my problem is with the company.” Chris turns to Paul. “Do you know anyone else who needs a marketing agent?”
Paul smirks. “Actually, I do. My brother owns Eros—have you heard of it?”
“The matchmaking company?” I blurt, almost choking on my wine.
“Yeah, that’s the one,” Paul says. “Eros is the overall brand, but he has lots of different products and companies under the organization. There are multiple marketing agents for each section; I’m sure I could get you an interview.”
I gape at Paul and then gape at Chris, who is grinning back at me. He puts his arm around his boyfriend and kisses his cheek.
“I told you he was amazing, didn’t I?” Chris gets up and grabs the water jug to refill it. “So we’ve found you a new job, and now we just need to find you a new predator.”
This time, I really do choke on my wine. I cough and thump my chest with my fist. Paul frowns in confusion.
“Jesus, Chris!” I gasp.
“Sorry,” he says, returning with a full jug. “It was meant to be a joke. Sounded funnier in my head.”
“What’s this you’re talking about? A predator?”
My face is getting hotter by the second. I shoot Chris a glare, and he smiles sheepishly.
“It’s nothing,” Chris says unconvincingly.
Paul looks back at me and I groan. What’s the harm? It’s not like either of them would be remotely interested in me.
“I have a Primal kink, all right?” I say quickly. “Predator and prey are the couple dynamics in that world. Trying to find a predator is really hard.”
“I’m familiar with the terms,” Paul says, startling us both. “My brother is a predator.”
My mouth falls open. One glance at Chris and he looks just as shocked.
Paul continues, “I wasn’t sure if that’s what you were referring to, sorry. Please don’t be embarrassed.” He gestures at my red face. “My brother has been out as a Primal for like, well, shit, fifteen years now.”
“Your brother is a Primal?” I repeat lowly and then curse. “Fuck, say he’s gay too, isn’t he?”
Paul laughs and shakes his head. “Nope, he’s straight. And single, actually.”
Chris’s clapping makes me jump. He cries excitedly, “Oh, this is just perfect! We can set them up!”
Paul grimaces and looks apologetically at me. “Only problem is, he’s not looking for a partner; he’s looking for a wife.”
