Page 13 of Pride: Kneel Before None

He lowered his mouth to the back of my hand, which he squeezed tightly enough to make his strength known. Contact of his flaky, dry lips with my skin made me want to shrink back with disgust as it rolled through me. The tips of his fangs ever so slightly dragged across my hand as he inhaled deeply, a quiet growl reverberating from him in response.

“I’m Eve,” I replied crossly as I pried my hand from his death grip.

A wicked smirk pulled his lips upward. “It will be a pleasure playing with you, Eve.”

I internally cringed, getting the feeling he wasn’t just talking about playing a game of cards. The second I had the thought, my foresight kicked in. Fast and furious images flashed across my mind’s eye. Percy, me, and an unmarked dark hallway.

His teeth snap primally at me, like a predator taunting its prey. “You fuckin’ smell delicious, just like that whore at Acedia. I wonder if you taste as good, sugarplum.”

My hands press against his chest with my arms locked in full extension. “Go fuck a sunbeam, asshole!”

Using his strength, he knocks my hands off of him, lunging at my throat with an open mouth.

Before the vision showed whether his fangs sank into me or not, I shut that shit down in my head.

My heart still beat erratically behind my ribs as though I had been present in my vision. Percy must have sensed the uptick in my pulse, because I caught his sidelong glance at me as he snickered to himself.

Swallowing down the anxiety my vision had stirred up, I tried to turn my focus on the cards being laid out before me.

When I glanced up, I saw Ace now standing a few feet behind the dealer. His green eyes were no longer filled with the enticing warmth I had seen earlier. They were dark, like evergreens struggling to be seen in the moonlight. His jaw was set in a hard line as he stared at the table. Following the line where his gaze was cast, he directed that predatory look directly at Percy.

Each round proceeded, and my chips continued to stack up while Percy bled them like a sinking ship. He grew more agitated with every loss, and even more so when my winning streak continued.

“Another win for the lady,” the dealer said as he slid a stack of chips toward me.

I reached out to collect my winnings, and Percy slammed his hand down on top of my wrist, pinning it to the felt-lined tabletop. His hold caused the precious stones of my new bracelet to bite painfully into my skin.

He sneered at me and aggressively pulled me close, our faces within inches of each other. “You’re card counting,” he accused.

I wondered if he had been just as stupid during his human lifetime as he was in his undead one. If this fucker’s first thought was that I was counting cards, I found myself grateful that he couldn’t contaminate the gene pool with his pitifully moronic DNA. The dealers constantly rotated in eight decks of cards every few hands; it would have been a nightmare to keep track of without the use of supernatural abilities.

I rolled my eyes and jerked my arm back, but his grasp didn’t falter.

“No. Are you?” I countered as I looked him in his beady little eyes. His pupils constricted, and if he’d had any blood flow, I imagined his face would be flushed red with anger.

Percy’s canines slowly lengthened, and his upper lip twitched in response to my echoed accusation.

A now familiar presence came up behind me and two hulking security guards—definitely lycanthropes—and stepped up behind Percy. The creepy motherfucker hissed like a cornered cat as Ace’s men encroached on his space.

“Gentlemen, remove Mr. Corliss. He is being disqualified for an act of aggression towards another player,” Ace declared, his voice like the calm before a storm broke free from the clouds.

Ace placed his hands protectively on the back of my chair, his knuckles just barely skimming the exposed skin of my shoulder.

When I pulled on my arm again, Percy relinquished his hold, aware of the unwanted attention that had now settled on him. Both guards moved in unison, each aiming to take one of Percy’s arms to presumably help him up from his seat. The vampire snarled and stood of his own volition after ripping both his arms out of reach of the guards.

“I’m going!” he snapped.

Security stuck close to his side as they escorted him out of the ballroom. He made a scene the entire way, ranting about the tournament being rigged.

Pfft, sore loser.

Once he was gone, I looked behind me for Ace, but he had already silently slipped away. In his stead was the host, who immediately tried to chase back the tension in the room with a jovial smile and nervous chuckle.

“Ladies and gents! Well, it looks like we have a winner of Sevenfold’s Inaugural Blackjack Tournament.” The excitement in his voice held a tangible energy, perhaps a close relative of a siren.

There was a round of applause as I stood from my seat. The host motioned for a couple of other employees to join us. They brought over one of those ridiculously large checks that were worthless except for marketing photos.

With the attention of the entire room currently on me, I soaked it up like a sponge and gave the brightest smile as I posed with the massive prop. After some official congratulatory shenanigans, the host finally pulled two items from his jacket’s inner pocket.