"It's your move."
Claire hadn't been expecting it. She hadn't been looking for it. And she most certainly hadn't welcomed it.
In a fine room full of luxury items and historical artifacts, she sat in a plush chair across from her opponent waiting for her to take her turn. Outside it was raining; no noise surrounded them other than the hush of the water and the occasional sigh that came from the intensity of the game. Ancient books lined the mahogany walls. The only light produced was from a massive chandelier directly above them twinkling with life whenever the air tickled it.
Her competition watched her carefully. She reached her hand out, hesitated, and pulled back resting her hand thoughtfully over her lips. Claire narrowed her eyes threateningly as she saw the girl across from her fumble with her titanium necklace that Claire also felt weighing on her own chest. The ever so infamous crest of "God's chosen ones" gleamed in the light reminding her that she was, in fact, prisoner in this room of finer captivity. It had been about a month since she had been captured and set to provide blood for the people who claimed to have saved her father. "The greater good" they called it. All she knew was she had 35 tallies in her metal bed post that she had been scratching with her thumb nail since the day she arrived.
The other woman shuffled ever so slightly causing her foot to slide gently, slowly across Claire's calf. Claire gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, trying her best not to let her body respond. But she had already shivered and her face was growing hot being able to feel the slight radiation from the smug body a foot and a half in front of her. This, they knew, was the real game.