“I want her,” he said gruffly, his voice full of barely restrained passion. “I’ll pay extra.”
Kadambari laughed and somewhere behind me, Sam started back up with his groaning. I really hoped this wasn’t about to get freaky. I didn’t sign up for an orgy. “Let’s see how you fare at the tables tonight, shall we? If the gods show you favor, perhaps we can make a deal.”
I was too busy watching the Sylph who’d come to tonight’s game to notice Rylon’s reaction to Kadambari’s offer. She hung back from the group, visibly shaken, leaning against a table for support. Fighting an internal battle, no doubt, against the effects of the Ambrosia. “What’s your name?” I asked as I helped her to stand straight.
“Mithandra,” she said. “My sister is the Raksasha’s slave.” She laid a hand to my chest to steady herself and looked up into my face. Wide, green eyes drank me in. Eyes that reminded me of Darian’s. Her lips curved into a sweet smile before she buried her nose in my shirt and inhaled deeply. “You smell good,” she said dreamily. “I can’t think straight. I know what I have to do . . . but—all I can think about right now is touching you.”
I knew what she meant. Her hand on my chest was like a brand, stoking my desire. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew this wasn’t right, but my body wasn’t really talking to my brain anymore. In fact, I was pretty sure my dick had switched over to autopilot about Stopeen five minutes ago. “Let’s just get through this, okay?” I said as I tucked her under my arm and led her toward the group. The last thing either of us needed was undue scrutiny. Or to keep touching each other like we were . . . “Give yourself a few minutes and you’ll be thinking more clearly.”
“The Fae—Rylon—I’m worried he’ll try to force himself on my sister before my mind is clear enough to do anything about it.”
I gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry,” I said close to her ear. “Our hostess isn’t going to let anything happen to your sister.” Yet. “I promise.”
She looked up at me again with those wide eyes and I swallowed down the emotions rising up in me like bile. I didn’t usually drink because I wasn’t one of those jovial drunks who everyone loves to see get schnockered at their party. No, I was more of the angry, emo drunk who ruins everyone’s fun. The Ambrosia made me as horny as a bull in rut, but it also made me want to tear this place to the ground and take every living soul with me as I wallowed in my sorrow. As it was, I was having a hard time keeping my shit together. And I wished to hell Mithandra would quit looking at me, reminding me of her.
“Broken-hearted gamblers are my favorite,” Kadambari mused as we approached a table that had been set up in the dead center of the dance floor. “And you’re quite the jilted lover, aren’t you, Tyler? I think you should place the opening bet.”
I looked up from Mithandra’s face, only slightly aware that I’d been stroking her red hair. “Sure, I can start the ball rolling. Why not?” I had nothing to lose. Not really. Darian didn’t need me, making me as useless as a third testicle. I’d honored her with the highest gift my race could bestow: unequivocal loyalty and protection. And she’d taken a dump all over my sacred gift. So, yeah, I’d place the first bet. Bring on the gambling. “Chips?”
Sam shouted and jumped as if startled, swatting and brushing at his arms. “Holyfuckingshitonashingle! Where did all of those spiders come from?”
Kadambari smiled hungrily as she watched Sam’s fear-fueled exhibition. She looked like a diner gazing into a lobster tank at a seafood restaurant. “Through your various contacts, you’ve all proven you’re good for the money. I’ve issued everyone one million dollars in credit for tonight’s game. Freya will distribute your chips.”
In the center of the table sat a large golden contraption that looked very much like a roulette wheel. Humans had no problem bypassing the wheel for a partially loaded revolver cylinder when playing with their lives. Supernaturals, on the other hand, weren’t quite as fragile. The roulette wheel seemed innocent enough, but it was just as good as a revolver when the stakes were this high. A Smith & Wesson had nothing on a death marker. At least with the gun, it was over quickly.
“Tyler?” Kadambari said with amusement, pulling me out of my reverie. I shook my head as if that would clear my muddled thoughts. I caught movement from the corner of my eye, a shadow slinking along the wall. My mind reeled as I squinted into the dark, convinced Darian watched me from the shadows. Impossible. Just an illusion. My eyes once again wandered to the Sylph, who was now leaning against the table for support, head bowed between her slight shoulders. “Perhaps you’ve found something more worthy of your attention?”
Was it simply a side effect of the Ambrosia, a figment o S, a wof my imagination that Mithandra reminded me so much of Darian? And why, at this moment when I needed a clear head, was she all I could think about? “Let’s get started,” I said as Freya approached me with a tray of chips. “I’m not interested in wasting any more time.”
Taking the tray into my hands, I stepped up to the table. The wheel glowed like the morning sun, marked with interspersed black and white notches. I noted that there were far more black notches than white. Great. The odds definitely tipped in favor of our deaths—not that Kadambari would have it otherwise. As if of its own accord, the wheel began to spin, rising up off the table until it was almost level with my torso. Sam let out a sort of half-whimper, half-scream. I didn’t have time to waste on him right now, though he’d secured a moment of our hostess’s attention. His fear must have smelled like a tray of fresh baked bread to Kadambari. An appetizer to the main course she’d consume once the game concluded.
“Your bet?” she asked as politely as if she were inquiring as to my health.
No need for an actual wager board for tonight’s game. We didn’t need a board with numbered squares to mark our bets. There were simply two options: life or death. And only a fool would bet against his life. I plucked five ten-thousand-dollar chips out of the tray and winced as one of the razor-sharp disks bit into my skin. With a flick of my wrist, I tossed the blood-smeared chips onto the table. So that was how the ghoul bound the gamblers to their life debt. Blood magic. Gods, how I hated it. “Fifty thousand.”
Freya dropped a golden sphere, not much bigger than a marble, over the game board. Anxiety knotted my stomach as I watched the bead roll counter-clockwise to the wheel. I wondered with every turn if my luck would hold tonight, or if I was simply digging myself a grave beside Levi’s. The click, clack of Kadambari’s stiletto heels mingled with the bounce of the ball, barely registering in my brain as she walked behind me. Her breath tickled my ear in a pleasant, intimate way. “I hear you’re after a king’s ransom tonight.” Her voice was like a caress and my spine wasn’t the only thing that stiffened. “To think of your lover in another’s arms . . . must be torture.”
My vision clouded as images of Darian lying beneath Xander, her body writhing in pleasure, appeared before me. The bar, my one safe haven, had officially become my personal hell as the illusion came to life: Xander holding her, caressing her, tasting her. Darian screaming his name as she rode him. Gods, my worst fears and insecurities I’d had about our relationship over the past few months buffeted my mind, tying my emotions into an unyielding knot.
“Sometimes, death is the only escape,” Kadambari whispered. “Your fate is bound to the wheel, Tyler. The freedom of death or the pain of living . . . I wonder, where will the ball stop?”
If I had to live in a world where Darian’s love belonged to that arrogant bastard of a king, I’d rather be dead. They’re visions, nothing real. Just the effects of the Ambrosia. Reason scratched at the back of my consciousness. Darian is yours. She’ll always be yours.
The wheel slowed to a stop, the ball bouncing twice before it landed on a white square. A sigh of relief escaped my chest. “Life,” Kadambari said simply, and motioned for Freya to dole out my winnings.
I’d made twenty-five grand on my bet. Most people would have scoffed at the odds. Bu
t when the alternative was death, th Swasaceose odds suddenly didn’t look so bad.
“Rylon.” The Fae looked away from Freya at the mention of his name, a snarl curling his lip. The thing about consuming Ambrosia: It not only lowered inhibitions, but enhanced certain personality traits. Rylon must have been a disagreeable motherfucker on a good day, because his aggression was off the charts right now. “Step forward.”
Freya held a tray of chips under one arm, the golden ball in her opposite, outstretched hand. She bent her elbow in toward her body as if she feared getting too close to the Fae. For good reason too. He’d made no secret of the fact he wanted Kadambari’s slave, and instead of plucking the roulette ball from her palm, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her hard against his body.
“Mine!” he snarled before running his nose roughly against the Sylph’s cheek. Rylon inhaled deeply and shuddered in ecstasy. He snatched the tray of chips clutched tight in Freya’s other arm and deposited it on the table, snagging a handful for his bet. Rylon hissed as the gambling tokens lacerated his skin and he threw them on the table without preamble, sending them scattering across the surface and down onto the floor. “Two hundred and fifty thousand,” he all but growled. “And if I land on white . . .” He jerked Freya tight against his chest. “The Sylph belongs to me as well.”
A strangled cry bubbled up from Mithandra’s throat. She stumbled toward Rylon, fumbling with her waistband at the small of her back, presumably for a weapon. My brain was slow to react, still thick and logy from the Ambrosia. So many kinks in what was supposed to be an easy job. I didn’t want to make a scene, and if Mithandra charged Rylon, she’d only serve to enrage our hostess and get herself killed. In my muddled state of mind, I reasoned there was only one thing to do. . . .
I intercepted her before she made it to Rylon, spun her toward me, and kissed her.
Whoa there, buddy. My brain put on the brakes so fast I had whiplash. What in the hell are you doing? Mithandra wrapped her arms around my neck, coming up on her tiptoes to press her body into mine. I’d been hoping to distract her without making a scene, but when the idea popped into my head, it had all played out differently. Smoother, somehow. My reasoning was all fucked up, the Ambrosia still working its way through my system. Mithandra’s too. Obviously. Her tongue flicked out against the seam of my lips. Gods, it felt good.
Slow your roll, tiger. It wasn’t my inner voice chiding me this time, but hers. Darian. I looked over Mithandra’s should and a perfect image of her stood to one side of me, her smile almost mocking. Get your shit straight. You’re not going to protect dick fucked up like you are. And I can guarantee you’re not doing that poor Sylph any favors by kissing her that way. Take it from me; you’re an outstanding kisser, Ty. She’ll be a puddle of goo at your feet in a couple minutes flat.
Even though the illusion was a result of my inebriated state, she was so, so real. I wanted to reach out. Touch her. Prove to myself that she wasn’t just a figment of my imagination, but flesh and blood. The vision of Darian jerked her chin toward Mithandra. Better disengage, champ. She’ll be stuck to you like a leach before you know it. Calm her down, get the situation back under control, and wrap this shit up. Levi needs you.
“Mithandra.” I broke free from her embrace to whisper against her lips, my eyes still locked on the Sloc widt vision of Darian. “Kadambari knows why you’re here. Each one of us is desperate and in need of something. She’s playing with you. Raksasha feed off of fear. Don’t give her what she wants.”
Mithandra nodded and pulled away slowly as if sated by our kiss. I blinked to clear my vision as the illusion of Darian blurred and faded into nothing. Shit. Screw a cold s
hower, I needed to be plunged into arctic seawater to sober up enough to shake off the lingering effects of the drink that had been forced on us. But whether real or imagined, my vision had been right: Levi needed me.
Time to take back control of the situation.
Chapter 9
I wasn’t here to drink, or to gamble, or to make out with random Sylphs. My only reason for being here tonight was to determine who held the death markers and make sure that individual was stopped once and for all. In my defense, thanks to the Ambrosia, I was drunk off my ass and thinking with my dick; but even that wasn’t a good enough excuse to tarry anymore.
“So, how long does this go on?” I asked, letting irritation seep into my tone. “We continue to bet our lives away until sun up, or the owners show up to kick us out?”
Kadambari gave me a wan smile letting me know she wasn’t in the mood to answer any questions. Sam screamed from somewhere near the back of the bar and a glass shattered in its wake. Just what I needed, some crazed asshole trashing the place while he tripped out. “Fuck me, did you see the size of that goddamned rat?” he exclaimed. “Holy shit! As big as a fucking cat!”
Rylon snorted in amusement and, still clutching Freya, tossed the ball onto the wheel. Round and round it turned, the black and white slots swirling into a gray blur. The three actual players—Sam was still freaking out over the imaginary mutant rat—watched with morbid curiosity as the ball bounced around inside the golden wheel: white, black, life, death, and so on until it began to slow, skipping from one slot to another. When it finally came to rest, Mithandra let out an audible sigh of relief, while Rylon lost his shit entirely.
“It’s fixed!” he shouted, shoving Freya away as he rounded on Kadambari, finger pointed accusingly. “You treacherous bitch, this game is rigged, isn’t it? I’ll cut out your fucking heart and—”
The gambling chips vibrated on the table, dancing and jumping until they collected into a neat and tidy pile. I took in a shallow breath as the air became heavy with magic, saturated with something dark and evil. As if someone had detonated a mini bomb, the chips imploded in a pile of crimson dust, and what was left was a single onyx chip pulsing with a dull gray light—a death marker. Rylon’s death marker.
“Thank you for playing,” Kadambari said with serene calm. She gathered the chip from the table and it glowed golden for a single moment when it made contact with her skin. The ghoul inhaled a sharp breath, and she swayed on her feet as if blissfully drunk before composing herself. Never in a million years would I have thought it would be this simple. But it was. Kadambari ran the gambling ring. She alone held the markers. Levi was as good as saved.
I jerked my phone out of my jeans, fumbling to access my text messaging screen while Rylon continued to shout and bemoan his misfortune. Typing as fast as my fingers would work, I fired o Vloc wimes, seff a text to Kaii, praying that auto correct wouldn’t screw me over and send her a completely incoherent message. No time to check. I hit send and almost dropped the damn phone trying to get it back in my pocket.
“Tsk, tsk,” Kambari chided, stepping over Rylon who had crumpled to the floor at her feet. Funny how betting your life seems trite until the moment you’ve actually signed it away. “Tyler, I thought you understood the rules for tonight’s game. You couldn’t possibly be so bored as to resort to electronics for entertainment. Not with what I’ve offered you here.”
Kadambari could have given me a run for my money in the icy rage department. Her tone sobered me up far better than any arctic plunge could have. I hadn’t had time for anything other than a quick text to Kaii, no opportunity to delete. If the Raksasha read the message, I was as good as fucked. “Can’t a guy check his e-mail?” I asked, hoping to stall her.
“No. My house, my rules. You broke those rules, Jinn. I told you, no phones.”
“Technically, this isn’t your house. I mean, you are borrowing this space, aren’t you? So can you truly make rules in a place you’re simply squatting in?”
Her eyes narrowed, and I swear she was wishing she could shoot daggers from them. “Don’t think that because you’ve escaped death once means that you’ll escape it again,” she seethed. Without looking away from me, she said, “Mithandra, step up to the wheel.”
A heavy weight of dread settled in my
gut. My protection was relegated to my Charge and no one else. I couldn’t intervene with magic to save Mithandra from the risk she was about to take. If I called up my power to help her, I’d be in hot water with the Synod. Instead, I had to sit by and watch as her fate was determined by a little golden ball. Maybe it was the Ambrosia, or perhaps it was the fact that her green eyes, red hair, and fierce determination reminded me so much of Darian. Either way, I wanted to help her and there wasn’t a goddamned thing I could do. Gods, I felt so helpless. Hurry up, Kaii. Get your ass over here. . . .
Mithandra threw her shoulders back and marched up to the table without showing an ounce of fear. Good. Kadambari would have reveled in her unease, and I was glad that she refused to give the ghoul the satisfaction of seeing her afraid. Freya handed her sister a tray of chips and the golden roulette ball, tears streaming down her cheeks. Mithandra gave her a reassuring smile. “You allowed Rylon to double down. I expect the same consideration.” She gathered all of the chips into her hands and didn’t so much as flinch as they cut her skin, drawing blood. “I’m all in. If I land on white, Freya’s life is mine.”
Kadambari dismissed Mithandra’s show of bravado with a flick of her wrist. “The odds are always in the favor of the house.” She leaned in close enough that her lips brushed Mithandra’s cheek. “I’m going to enjoy breaking you.”
Spine ramrod straight, Mithandra dropped the ball onto the spinning wheel. Freya looked like she might pass out as she watched the ball skip from one slot to another, teasing the sisters with freedom or condemning them to a fate worse than death.
I couldn’t help but be a bit awestruck by the Sylph. She was all of about five-foot, maybe ninety pounds soaking wet. And rather than bemoan her fate and rail to the gods like Rylon, she stood at the table, a grim expression on her face, and waited for her fate to be decided. Freya gasped as the whee [d a
The ball began to lose momentum and there weren’t enough white notches to catch it when it landed. Only one option presented itself: black. Death. Torture. Or worse. The smug smile curving Kadambari’s lips spurred me to action. I couldn’t use my magic to save the sisters, but by gods I’d do something to stop this. I lunged across the wheel, reached out, and batted the ball away before it slid into the black groove waiting to receive it.
Lost to the Gray: A Shaede Assassin Novella (A Penguin Special from Signet Eclipse) Page 7