by Selena Blake
“It gets better,” Coco said. “At the wedding—”
Izzy held up a hand. “I do not wish to know.”
“The point is, Izzy. It’s early yet, to give up on your fairy tale. There’s always second chances. Sometimes you just have to close your eyes and jump in with both feet.”
“What do you think they’re talking about? Izzy looks pale,” Shade said as Grayson broke the formation of colorful balls. As they rolled this way and that, the wolf glanced across the room at Izzy and Coco.
“Us, probably.”
Shade didn’t like the sound of that.
“Don’t look so stricken, man. Coco’s probably just giving you her blessing. She’s wanted Izzy to find someone for a long time.”
Shade frowned and leaned on his pool cue. “Why is that?”
Grayson glanced up from the table. “Surely Izzy told you how she became a vampiress…”
Shade nodded.
“They’re best friends, but it’s more than that. Coco’s protective of her. It’s not like Izzy needs a man to protect her or anything. My mate has taught the little vamp to defend herself very well. But you know how women can be. They find happiness and expect everyone else around them to start seeing hearts and spouting sonnets.”
Shade didn’t let women get close enough to see hearts or get any ideas about poetry and flowers. Not before Izzy. “Thank you for watching out for her.”
Grayson called the far corner and sank another ball. “About earlier, I’m sorry I lost it on you.”
Shade waved it off. “You didn’t know me.”
Grayson nodded and skirted the table, looking for his next kill. “When I first met Izzy, I came to Mystic Isle with a former buddy of mine. Richard’s a serious prick. You know the type. Thinks he can have whatever he wants when he wants it.”
Shade grunted in agreement.
“He got drunk one night and set his sights on Izzy and Coco.”
Shade felt his blood heat. “I bet that was a hell of a bar tab.” Wolves’ metabolism burned off alcohol quickly. For one to get drunk meant he had to chugging hard liquor, and quickly.
“It was. Anyway. They told him to fuck off and he followed them outside.” Grayson paused and his gaze went far away. He snorted. “That phrase, seeing red, I totally saw red. If Latham hadn’t shown up when he did…”
“You went for the throat, did you?” Shade could still feel the wolf’s massive hand wrapped around his throat and knew he would be a deadly adversary. He vowed to stay on Grayson’s good side.
“I tackled his ass. You should have seen the look on Coco’s face. I like to think I’m pretty kick-ass, since it was my job and all. But that day, I honestly thought looks might be able to kill and Richard was about to be toast.”
Shade chuckled.
“It’s no wonder Izzy doesn’t trust wolves. I don’t blame her. She’s met some pretty crummy examples of our kind.”
“But she trusts you, right?”
“Hardly.” Grayson missed the next shot and moved out of the way.
As Shade aimed at the pearly-white ball, Grayson continued. “I don’t know that she’ll ever really trust me. I hope she learns to because I can’t stand the thought of Coco feeling divided between us.”
“I don’t think you have as much to worry about as you think. I didn’t detect any malice from her where you’re concerned.”
“Izzy isn’t exactly easy to read.”
Shade nodded and watched the seven ball roll into the side pocket. “She’s complicated, I’ll give you that. Loyal. Stubborn.”
Grayson laughed.
“Impulsive,” Shade continued and aimed for the two ball. “Insistent… on paying her own way. Scared but brave as hell. She keeps a deck of playing cards in her back pocket like it’s a rosary. It’s a miracle she can even look at a man after what happened to her. But she doesn’t let the nightmares haunt her after she wakes up.”
“She’s still having the nightmares?” Grayson asked.
Shade nodded.
“You’ll have to give her something new to dream about, mate.” Grayson grinned as Shade sunk the eight ball. “You really are one lucky, bastard,” he teased.
“Guilty as charged.”
Chapter Twelve
Charles Latham stared out his office window at the setting sun. Streaks of brilliant red and burnt orange colored the western sky, seducing him with its placidness.
Swirling the golden liquid round and round in the small brandy snifter, he exhaled slowly.
It was going to be a long couple of days.
“Is something wrong, sir?”
He glanced over his shoulder to find Rosanna standing in the doorway, her perfectly shaped eyebrows knit in concern. The emotion didn’t surprise him. She wasn’t very good at keeping her feelings in check.
“Just wondering why I do this to myself.”
She stepped forward. “You’re going to have to be more specific,” she said dryly. She’d been with him since he opened the resort and had seen the good, bad and ugliness.
He turned back to the sunset. “At the moment… the tournament.”
“Ahh. That. You’ll have to be on your toes.”
“I know.” Running a pleasure playground for paranormals was risky business. Dangerous immortals combined with sex and possessive, sometimes competitive, emotions could be an equation for disaster. But luckily, most everyone followed his rules. Or suffered the consequences.
Organizing a poker tournament open to century-old creatures who could read minds, possess their enemies and kill in the blink of an eye… well, that was just crazy.
Latham thrived on crazy. Craved it even. At least, he used to.
It was too late to back out now. And a portion of the proceeds would go to a good cause, so it’d be worth it. That didn’t change the fact that he’d be watching the floor with a close eye to make sure no one was cheating.
“You need to go open the tournament.”
A quick glance at the sleek gunmetal gray watch on his right wrist told him she was right. Refusing to gulp the expensive French cognac, he set the glass aside and shrugged into his suit jacket. “Let’s do it.”
He picked up the glass and took a sip on his way out the door.
The casino was a living, breathing creature when he arrived a few minutes later. Abuzz with excitement and the low din of chatter. The bar was three-deep and the extra chairs set up around the room, completely filled. Dozens of pairs of eyes turned his way and marked his movement across the room. He was used to the sensation after six years of running the island.
One of his staff members handed him a microphone as he stepped onto the elevated platform where the head table sat beneath spotlights. He wasn’t surprised that the tension in the room grew thicker as the group focused their attention on him. There was a lot of money at stake. After he finished his drink and handed the glass to a waiter, he turned to the crowd.
“Thank you all for joining what I hope will become a yearly tradition here at Mystic Isle. You’re here for poker but part of the moneys will go to the Latham/Cross orphanage.”
He nodded to his pit boss. “Before we begin, let’s go over the rules.”
Izzy rolled up onto the balls of her feet, trying to see over the crowd. As the people in front of her shifted, she caught a glimpse of Charles Latham. He knew how to wear a suit. That, and he obviously had an excellent tailor.
The handsome blond-haired god held everyone’s attention but didn’t make a long, drawn-out speech. She appreciated that. Once again, she felt that time was of the essence. Even if she couldn’t find a car identical to Gorgeous, she wanted the money in hand when she saw Valencia again.
“Remember,” Latham said a note of finality and warning in his voice. “No mind reading. No cheating. Cheaters will answer to me.”
He glanced around the room, slowly making eye contact. She could barely see over the tops of people’s heads so she didn’t have to endure a stare down from the god. One
meeting this visit was enough for her. Being in the company of an all-knowing was more than a little unnerving.
Latham called Shade onto the stage and made a big deal about his claim to fame. Izzy smiled as Shade brushed off the praise. Somewhere, someone snorted. Someone else sighed. There were a few murmurs about fairness. She did her best to ignore them, to find her happy place where luck was always on her side.
The hair on the back of her neck tingled and she shrugged off the uneasy feeling. Someone was watching her. Lifting her chin, she glanced over her left shoulder. No one was paying her any attention from that direction. When she turned the other way a man was moving through the crowd toward her.
His dark brown eyes locked on her. She stuck her hands in her back pockets and watched him approach. He was good-looking; had jet-black hair, wavy though it was cropped short. Not nearly as tall as Shade, but muscular. He wore his clothes well, casual but clean and well-pressed.
Once upon a time she would have found him attractive… Would have been pleased to see the small horns peeking through his hair. But she didn’t feel the slightest stirring.
Whatever he wanted, she didn’t have time for. She turned her attention back to the stage, but when he sidled up next to her a second later she sensed his impatience.
“So you’re his new girl.” His voice was smooth and seductive; his accent foreign but delicious to her ears.
She feigned innocence, blinking up at him. “Who’s new girl?”
He chortled. “Joshua Sotenburg. I saw you two together.”
Izzy licked her lips. His eyes followed the movement and narrowed. It’d been a long time since Izzy felt in her element. But poker had been her thing since she’d turned fourteen and sat down at her first game. For some reason, she was good at it. At reading people. Which made her past screwups that much harder to swallow. Why hadn’t she seen the truth in them before it had been too late?
Was it possible that she was making yet another mistake where Shade was concerned?
But right now, that delicious feeling of calm swept through her. She managed to turn off her enchantment with the bedazzled chandeliers overhead and focus on the game ahead.
But the fool next to her was obviously trying to fluster her.
She took a deep breath and looked away from him. “And?”
“The cheering section is over there.” He jerked a thumb toward the bar.
“Thank you for the information.” Several heartbeats passed but he didn’t go away. “Was there something else?” she asked coolly.
“Maybe he’ll tell you how he does it.”
“It?”
“Wins. Cheats.”
It was Izzy’s turn to laugh. She glanced back at the man. “I am sorry. I did not catch your name.”
“Blythe Jordan.”
“And you want me to find out all his secrets and report back to you?” she murmured, trying her best to sound conspiratorial.
He looked surprised for two whole heartbeats. It made her blood hum with adrenaline. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on the green felt of the poker table. Winning was addictive. Watching men who underestimated her eat their words was the ultimate high. Far too often the male of the species looked at her blonde hair and blue eyes and thought she was stupid. Their mistake.
“Would you?” He turned on a charming smile and shifted toward her.
Izzy smirked. “Not on your life. But may the best demon win,” she said and then took her seat at the table.
Chapter Thirteen
After the first round had finished and a break was called, Izzy stood up from the table and stretched. Her blood was humming. She’d forgotten just how exhilarating it was to sweep her opponents. Twisting side-to-side she eased the tight muscles in her back. Anyone who claimed poker wasn’t a sport should be forced to sit in a chair, still like a rock to give nothing away, for hours on end and endure the brutal mental exertion. By the last hand she’d been in need of a long walk.
“Good game,” the dealer said.
“Thank you.”
She felt someone’s stare and looked up just as Shade bore down on her. He reached for her hand and pulled her along like a kite on a string.
So much for reveling in her post-win glory.
“Shade… what—”
He was around the corner and boarding the private elevator to the penthouse before she could finish her sentence. Something, adrenaline she would guess, surged through her making her feel light and breathless. There was something desperate about him. Needy in a way she hadn’t seen before.
He pulled her into his arms as the doors started to close.
“I need you,” he uttered just before his lips crashed against hers.
It wasn’t an easygoing, I’ve missed you kiss. Not sweet or tender, but hot and consuming. His tongue slid between her lips and touched hers, igniting a fire deep in her belly.
She opened for him: lips, arms, soul, and wrapped her arms around his neck at the same time. Lifting her legs, she encircled his hips and hung on tight. Giving. Taking.
She heard the doors open. Shade stepped back, taking her with him. His hips shifted between thighs as he stepped off the elevator. She kissed her way down his neck and her bottom hit something hard. A crash followed and she peered down at the shattered lamp at their feet.
Shade uttered an ‘oops.’
Izzy would worry about the furniture later. Right now she needed to feel his skin against hers. Shimmying farther back on the narrow entry table, she reached for the buttons on his shirt. He was quicker. With a jerk of his hands, the buttons went flying across the tiled foyer. He shrugged off the material and sent it sailing over his shoulder.
For a brief moment she got to enjoy the sight of all that male perfection. Tan skin, lightly dusted with dark hair. The thick column of his neck, broad sculpted shoulders, and well-defined chest. She wants to wrap her fingers around his biceps and lick a trail down his abs.
“That was sexy,” she said and stretched up to kiss his lips.
He worked his hands beneath her shirt and pulled it up over her head. The instant it was off, he was kissing her again. Devouring her.
His palms covered her breasts, heating and teasing them. She reached for his belt. He brushed away her hands and picked her up again.
She giggled. He obviously wanted to be in the driver’s seat. The hot length of his erection seared right through the fabric of her jeans. She wriggled against him, craving his heat. His body. Loved the sound of his groan, so deep and masculine.
He settled her onto something soft, and came down over her, his body pinning her. He made quick work of her bra and then straightened just enough to fumble with his jeans.
“Hurry,” she urged, reaching for the button of her own jeans.
He took over the task, rolling her jeans and panties down her legs. Slowly, his hands slid back up her legs, past her knees, over her thighs. His touch was reverent and his eyes caressed her just as his hands did.
He uttered something in German, something she understood only because of the raw tone and needy expression etched across his handsome face. He had to have her… soon.
Without another word, he scooped her up and started walking.
“Mine.”
The single, guttural word made her heart beat faster. She inhaled deeply, flush with pleasure. Lifting her mouth to his, she speared her tongue inside and poured her feelings into the kiss. Desire. Comfort. Happiness. But it was need that clawed at her, made her ache.
“I love the little sounds you make,” he murmured against her throat as he laid her on the bed.
She tugged at his hips, urging him closer. The tease held himself away from her, denying her what she wanted… needed.
Her protests fell silent as he focused on her breasts, kissing and licking every inch except for the sensitive centers that needed him most. She opened her mouth to plead her case but the swirl of his tongue around her left nipple made her moan instead. She needed more; was desperate for
relief.
Squirming beneath him, as much as she could when he was half lying over her, she tried desperately to rub her clit against any part of him.
“Shade!”
He sucked a nipple into his mouth so quickly, so sharply, that she bucked off the bed, gasping. Sweet pleasure/pain swept through her and she came back down with a sigh.
“Tell me what he said to you.” His voice was low, dark and dangerous. She struggled to make sense of the words when her body was feverish with need.
“Who?”
“Jordan. I saw him talking to you before the opening.”
“Why are you talking at a time like this?” She shifted toward him, reaching for his cock. A few good strokes would get his mind back on track.
“What did he say?” he asked and wrapped a hand around her wrist to stop her.
Sighing, she twisted her wrist out of his hold. What was so important about this Jordan guy? Izzy could not care less about him except that he was currently the topic of conversation keeping her from an orgasm.
“Nothing,” she assured him, gently raking her nails up his spine. Maybe if she placated him, he would forget his silly line of questioning and make her come. “Nothing important.”
“He doesn’t trust me. He thinks I cheat.” He spoke in between kisses peppered against her skin.
“Yes. He said so. It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters. I wouldn’t put it past him to—”
Frustration boiling over, Izzy cupped his jaw and made him look up at her. “I handled it. I do not care what he thinks. I told him. I do not think he will bother me again.”
“But—”
“Trust me. He is all talk. Wants to think he is better than he is. But he does not matter. Not to me. Not to us.”
“Right.” He gave her a quick kiss on the nose and trailed a hand down her side to the apex of her thighs. She ground her hips against his hand, telling him with her actions what words could not.
