Cards of Love: The High Priestess

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Cards of Love: The High Priestess Page 5

by Olivia Ryann


  Damen points out two seats that are free near the left wall, and we head over and make ourselves comfortable. The patrons to our right are two men that are either in love or very drunk — or maybe both. They basically make out the entire time we’re sitting here, in their own world.

  It’s a perfect place to talk about what to do next. After bantering with the waiter and ordering, we talk in quiet voices.

  “Someone is after us,” Damen says. “Only I can’t tell who us is. Are they after my family? Or Arsen? Or something else entirely?”

  “It’s hard when there are so many reasons that someone might want to hurt you.”

  I feel his eyes on my face, probably trying to tell if I’m being sarcastic or not. But I’m being wholly honest and truthful. His family’s business makes it highly likely that they’re the target of violence… but it isn’t for sure. It could be any number of things. Maybe it has nothing to with the Aetós clan at all.

  “I wish I had some idea of who attacked us. Not once, but twice. And I would catch a plane out of town, but I’m not even sure that I’m not the target.” His expressive mouth presses into a thin line. “This is terrorism, you know that?”

  I nod, even though I’m not exactly sure where the line is that identifies the shooting and bombing as terrorism. After all, terrorism is usually political. Like Damen said, until we know what the target of the violence is, we can’t really throw words like terrorism around.

  I keep that to myself, though. “Where should we go next? What should we do?”

  Giving his head a shake, he sighs. For the first time since I met him, he looks tired. “I don’t know. I guess we need to get your sister and try to lay low for a few days. We’ll see what my brother does. I have a few guys that I can call to come in and sniff around, if we still need to find out who the target of the attacks is.”

  I don’t respond to that. I just chew that over in my head a little bit. Damen slides his gaze over to me again and abruptly changes the subject.

  “How long have you had this… thing?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder.

  I sip the Diet Coke the waiter brought me and shrug. “The feelings? All my life, essentially.”

  “Does it run in your family? Or do you know anyone else that gets these… feelings?”

  I’m so surprised by the question, or my reaction to the question, that I knock over my Diet Coke. It runs all over the table, the cup flying one direction, ice and sweet brown liquid crashing another.

  “Shoot!” I exclaim, jumping to my feet.

  Damen grabs a handful of paper napkins and starts sopping up the mess. By the time our food comes, the question is forgotten for the time being.

  But the question’s core principal — the issue of Cass’s safety and whether or not I can trust Damen with her life… that looms large in my consciousness.

  As I eat my scrambled eggs and my waffle, I sneak glances at Damen out of the side of my eye. Despite everything else, despite what my heart tells me it wants, there are facts that cannot be discounted.

  He’s a stranger.

  A man I barely know.

  I might be foolish enough to let myself fall for whatever Damen is selling, but I can’t put my sister through that kind of risk.

  I won’t.

  So when he asks again, I will smile and lie right to his face. I’m not my father. I’m willing to gamble myself, but I can’t leave Cass’s well-being up chance.

  8

  Damen

  While Bianka uses the restroom, I stay at the counter and pull my tarot cards from the inner jacket pocket of my tuxedo. Taking off the rubber band, I shuffle the deck, trying to focus my mind on just one question.

  It shouldn’t be hard, but it is. There are so many questions swirling around in my head right now.

  Who is targeting us?

  Should I be worried about Bianka’s safety, or are they after my brother?

  Where should I go now?

  What should I do?

  I’ve never had anyone else to protect before, but now I have not just Bianka but her little sister too. I shuffle the cards, my thoughts a mess.

  I lay out three cards, which should represent Situation, Action, and Outcome. This is the tarot spread that I’ve come to prefer in the last couple of years, emphasizing action and decisiveness.

  I flip the cards over, surprised that they are all major arcana cards. In the position of Situation is the World, in reverse. It means lack of something, or a situation needing closure.

  In the position of Action is The High Priestess, which makes an eerie kind of sense. That card has been turning up like a bad penny everywhere I look, warning me of something. It means the subconscious mind or a kind of divine intuition. Then, lo and behold, Bianka drops right into my lap.

  “What a surprise you are,” I say, tapping the High Priestess.

  In Outcome, there is the Tower. It means disaster or sudden change, possibly upheaval of circumstances. It’s the only card of the three that doesn’t make sense yet.

  I glance up and see Bianka heading back to me. Instinctively I hurry to put my cards away, not wanting her to think that I am weak or that I rely on cards to tell me what to do. It’s not that.

  Sometimes the cards can help me see things more clearly, through a different frame. That’s all.

  I eye her as she comes back, looking equal parts regal and intoxicating in her ball gown. Especially here, in this place where she’s so out of mode. For some reason, that makes me find her even more attractive.

  Then again, I have always been more interested in what didn’t fit, the things that looked wrong in a painting. Why should Bianka be any different?

  “Ready?” I ask her as she arrives.

  She shrugs a dainty, bare shoulder. “That depends. Where are we going?”

  “That is the million dollar question, isn’t it?” I give her a slow smile. “I think we should go back to the Belvedere, get your sister, and find somewhere to lay low for a few days.”

  Without hesitation, she nods. “Okay. That sounds like a good plan.”

  I follow Bianka to the front door, my heart heavy. There are so many possibilities, so many threats to our future. All I know for sure as we get in the car is that the cards don’t lie…

  The World.

  The High Priestess.

  The Tower.

  Something big is coming. Time is running out.

  And the High Priestess has only just shown her face.

  As we pull of into the New Orleans night, I make a promise to myself, to Bianka, that I will figure it out before it’s too late.

  More Is Coming, and Soon

  Patience i a virtue, at least that’s what I tell myself all the time. Here are the current titles in the Cherish Underground:

  Capture

  Control

  Covet

  Cherish

  Grab Capture for FREE right now!

  About the Author

  Olivia Ryann is the dark romance pen name of Wall Street Journal, USA Today, and Amazon Top 20 Bestseller Vivian Wood. She loves poetic phrases and bits of melodic memories. She adores dominant, hard men and soft, fragile women with backbones made of steel. She wants to put them together as often as possible, in unconventional ways.

  Follow Olivia Ryann on Amazon to stay updated! https://www.amazon.com/Olivia-Ryann/e/B07GTTR9MB/

  If you haven’t ever read any of Vivian’s work, we suggest beginning with Addiction and Obsession.

  Cheers!

  Olivia’s Works

  Capture

  Control

  Covet

  Cherish

  Vivian likes to write about troubled, deeply flawed alpha males and the fiery, kick-ass women who bring them to their knees.

  Vivian's lasting motto in romance is a quote from a favorite song: "Soulmates never die."

  Be sure to follow Vivian through her Vivian's Vixens mailing list (http://eepurl.com/buorZn) or Facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/VivianKWood/)
to keep up with all the awesome giveaways, author videos, ARC opportunities, and more!

  Vivian’s Works

  Bad Beginnings

  Bad Behavior

  Bad Reputation

  Dr. Hottie

  Smolder

  Hot As Hell

  Wild Hearts

  Addiction

  Obsession

  His Virgin

  His Best Friend’s Little Sister

  Claiming Her Innocence

  His To Keep

  Promise Me

  Knocking Boots

  SEAL’s Bride

  SEAL’s Kiss

  SEAL’s Touch

  For more information….

  vivian-wood.com

  [email protected]

 

 

 


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