Roksana made a croaky sound and it took several breaths to make her heart stop constricting. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him standing in the kitchen of the vacant apartment, the broad muscles of his back flexed. Waiting.
If you want to be effective tonight, you can’t think of him.
Or the fact that despite everything, she missed him.
Roksana took a calming breath and re-focused.
Unlike her relationship with Elias, her rapport with Tucker was easy. With his jocular attitude and ability to lighten the mood, he was impossible not to get along with. In other words, he was Elias’s exact opposite, but the two were as close as brothers.
Hopefully she wouldn’t have to kill him.
Best to find out his angle before the game started.
Roksana pushed off the house she’d hunkered down behind and started toward the mansion. As soon as she stepped into the street light, Tucker’s pace stalled at the door. Of course, his super-sensitive hearing caught her footsteps, especially because she was making no effort to soften them. But he continued into the house, nonetheless, telling Roksana that Tucker was aware of her presence, but wouldn’t be acknowledging the fact that they knew each other. Even as a niggle of hurt worked its way through her chest, she was glad for the information. She preferred the illusion that they weren’t acquainted, actually.
Someone was letting her opponents into the house, but until she climbed the stone staircase, Roksana didn’t see who it was.
A flutter of wings and a gasp was all she glimpsed before the door was slammed shut.
“Vot eto pizdets,” she grumbled. Dammit.
Roksana stood dumbfounded for a moment, then raised her hand to rap on the door.
Six times. Pause. One more knock.
The door flew open, revealing a woman in a long, gold robe. Sparks of the same color rotated around her head in an endless marathon. Her eyes were huge and tilted at the corners, her cheekbones liberally rubbed with bronzer.
And she had wings.
The small appendages in question flapped so rapidly, there was no way they belonged to a costume. Even minus the wings, there was something decidedly otherworldy about this woman. Like maybe the fact that she appeared to be hovering an inch above the floor.
This was one of the fae she’d been taught about during her year of training. Those lessons had been brief, however, because the fae were so few in number. A dying race, her mother then called them. Their origins were entwined with Irish folklore and they’d once been deemed a powerful race of conquerors. Decades ago, they’d been driven back into the Faerie realm, leaving only their black sheep brethren behind.
Roksana had never met one in real life, though she didn’t let that show on her face. Instead, she reminded herself to be on guard. Fairies were known for their trickiness and abilities to read minds, control the actions of others and more.
Not today, Satan.
“You are here for the poker match?” the fairy asked in a melodic French accent.
Roksana put a pleasant expression on her face. “Yes.”
“Then you must be Roksana.” The wings fluttered faster. “You cannot wear that. You did not come here for a slumber party at your friend’s house.” Her impossibly large eyes widened further, flashing from brown to bronze. “Come, I have something you can borrow, but we need to move swiftly. We don’t want to keep the men waiting.”
“Speak for yourself.”
The fairy laughed and the stardust around her head whipped into a blur. “I am Cosette and I serve the man of the house. Come in, come in.” She clapped her hands twice, before gripping Roksana by the elbow and pulling her into the house, shutting the door behind them. “I’ll take your bag, if you please!”
Roksana tightened her grip on the strap. “I’ll hold on to it.”
Cosette’s smile became a baring of teeth. “I must insist,” she said brightly.
Without warning, the backpack was ripped away from Roksana’s shoulder and dropped unceremoniously on top of a gilded entry table. The fairy hadn’t moved once.
“I was so excited when I found out a woman was coming to the game,” said the fairy, as if she hadn’t just divested Roksana of her only protection with nothing more than her will.
Keep your guard up.
Cosette bustled her through a white marble foyer with no decoration save a plain woven rug, drawing her down a back hallway. Male voices drifted up from downstairs. Cigar smoke, tinkling ice cubes, chairs moving across the floor. She’d only caught the tail end of Tucker’s rusty chuckle when Cosette pulled her into a room. The interior was dark, and immediately Roksana braced for battle, but when the fairy flipped on the light, there was nothing but an army of garment racks packed with clothes.
“Clothes” really wasn’t the right word, though.
More like, inventions.
Feathers plumed, rhinestones winked and collars popped everywhere Roksana looked. In a sea of avant garde and couture, there wasn’t a basic bustier and leather pants to be seen.
Cosette glided between the rows of racks, humming to herself. “You have a fair complexion, so we should stay away from pastels. We don’t want to wash you out, darling.”
“Got any leather?”
“Why yes!” Cosette plucked a hangar off the rack and held it up.
A laugh puffed out of Roksana’s mouth. “Oh, I, um…I don’t have the right undergarments for something that short. Or low.” She tilted her head sideways, trying to discern whether the fairy was holding a belt or a minidress. “What does it cover exactly?”
“Darling, I am helping you. Why would you not want these men distracted?” Her smile dropped and red bled into her irises. “If you touch the man of the house, I will fly you to the top of the Kremlin and let go.”
Roksana believed her. “I’m not really in the market for a man.”
“Oh, but you never know what the night will bring…” She shimmied her shoulders suggestively and let out a feminine squeal. “Now strip and let me have some fun!”
Ten minutes later, Roksana regarded herself in the mirror with approval. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn her hair any way but down. The fairy had wound it in a high, tight bun on top of her head, but somehow made the sides looks loose and feminine. Some essential oils had been rubbed into her skin, leaving it glowing and fragrant. Deep magenta painted her lips, black eyeliner had been smudged artfully and a pair of blood-red heels elongated her legs in a practically indecent way. And her boobs.
They looked like sexy produce.
“You hid the bruises,” Roksana murmured. “I can’t believe it.”
Cosette preened. “The magic of makeup!” She took Roksana’s hand, swinging it back and forth gleefully on their way to the door. “Confidence matters. Now you have it in spades.” Out of the side of her mouth, she said, “Poker humor.”
“Poker?” Roksana muttered. “I don’t even know her.”
Glitter sprang from the fairy as she laughed, pinging on the white floor like sparks. They traversed the dark hallway, but Cosette stopped before they could reach the top of the staircase. “I like you, Roksana.” She pressed her lips together. “I wonder if you know what you’re going into?”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you’re walking into a basement full of…well, other. Two vampires, three fae. There is only one other human competing tonight.” Her fingers flickered at her throat. “Even if you won, is there a possibility of you walking out alive?”
“Hell yes.” Roksana winked back at Cosette on her way down the stairs. “Although a fight in this dress might be awkward since I’m not wearing panties.”
Her words were still hanging in the air, along with Cosette’s high-pitched giggle, when she stepped into the basement—and found five pairs of male eyebrows raised, nobody moving.
Roksana shrugged. “What? I need a convenient place to hide the cards.”
Their laughter held an edge of wariness, but she took the oppor
tunity to quickly take stock of her opponents. Of course, Tucker was there, smiling broadly at her joke without making eye contact, his signature cigar stuck in the corner of his mouth. The two identical men she’d seen enter the house were already seated at a professional, green-felted poker table, on opposite ends, both of them holding a tumbler of bubbly white liquid.
A fourth man stepped into her vicinity, holding out his hand for a shake, and she immediately recognized him. A slayer who’d gone through training at the same time as she, though his lessons hadn’t been private, like hers. They’d never formally communicated, but she’d probably passed him on a daily basis on the way to meals or combat sessions. He was blonde, had a crooked nose and perceptive eyes.
Did Inessa send him to hedge her bets? In case Roksana couldn’t deliver?
“Rob.” The slayer’s eyes danced down to her legs, then back up. “Very nice to meet you.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Gross. Can we get started?”
Roksana stepped around her admirer—and came to a dead stop.
There, standing in the corner of the room, in low conversation with another man, was Elias. Elias was there. Leaning on a fully stocked bar, complete with bartender, his hands were loosely clasped in front of him, his head nodding as he listened to what the man said. His gaze drifted to Roksana and away, as if she were invisible.
“Poker face, kiddo,” Tucker said for her ears alone, on his way to a seat at the table.
Roksana’s mouth snapped shut and she attempted to force calm into her whizzing bloodstream, though her hand shook as she pulled back the antique chair and sat. Why hadn’t Elias told her he was coming tonight? Had he planned to compete all along, even while teaching her how to play poker? Both of those possibilities opened a giant crater up in the center of her chest. No honesty, no friendship. Just deceit.
This part of her that stubbornly believed in a connection between her and Elias, a connection that was outside the world’s reach, couldn’t withstand being trampled on any more.
It was in tatters.
“My dear,” a voice said to her left, and she turned her head to find a gray-haired man in a pink sweater vest and a bowtie approaching. He was the man Elias had been speaking with. There were no wings attached to his back, but there was a certain brilliance to his skin when combined with his oversized features, that told Roksana he was fae. “I am a terrible host. Allow me to introduce myself! I am the man of the house.”
Roksana waited for a name and realized there wasn’t one coming. “Roksana,” she managed, holding out her hand. “Charmed.”
He planted a kiss on her knuckles and pulled back with sparkling eyes, oozing Americana like a small-town mayor. “I take it Cosette showed you her closet.”
She forced herself not to react when Elias sat down to her right, his scent, his presence stampeding through her like a dozen loose horses. How could having him close affect her like a sharp, sensual attack when they’d so recently been in close quarters? It wasn’t fair. Especially now when her damnable trust in him was reeling. When the man of the house cleared his throat, she realized he was waiting for her response. “Ah…yes. I did see Cosette’s closet. It was more like a warehouse.”
He tossed a bark of laughter up at the ceiling. “Before we get started, my dear, please allow me to bring you a drink.”
“No, thank you.”
The smile remained frozen on his face, reminding her of Cosette when she’d declined to have her backpack taken away. The legend might be that the fae had left behind their black sheep when they’d vanished to the Faerie realm, but Roksana was starting to think they’d left behind their most deceptively dangerous. “Just the obligatory house drink, then.”
Roksana’s sixth sense started to pulse. “Which is?”
His shrug was almost prim. “Just a tiny shot of motivation to make things interesting.” He glided to his seat in the dealer spot and sat down. “Now. This is no limit Texas hold ’em. Everyone has been given an equal amount of chips and the blinds will start at ten-twenty. Whoever has all the chips at the end wins our prize. Is that clear enough?”
Murmurs all around.
Cosette floated out of seemingly nowhere. In one hand, she held a tray of shot glasses, each of them full to the brim with clear liquid. She stopped behind Roksana first and set one of the shots down in front of her. “If this is vodka, we don’t get along. It never got the memo that I’m Russian and should be able to handle more than a drop. I’ll pass.”
“Not if you want to play,” Cosette sing-songed, dropping shots off in front of Rob, then Tucker, each of the stoic fae, then eventually Elias. “All of you are here to compete for one thing. The marriage decree for Mary the Mad—a document of great worth. But who wants it most? This drink will ensure the player with the strongest motivation wins.” She smiled like a Cheshire cat. “Once drunk, the concoction determines what it is you want the most in life. It will amplify that desire. Enflame it. You will compete harder knowing you could obtain your one true desire by winning tonight’s bounty, be it superiority or wealth.”
“You didn’t think we would make it easy, did you?” crooned the man of the house, circling the table. “We seek to be entertained. There’s every chance an underworld poker game would be thrilling enough, but we like a little guarantee. Not to mention, we can’t have pulses pitter pattering and giving certain creatures an advantage. This will slow it down.”
Roksana glanced briefly at Tucker and found him passing Elias a subtle nod. What were they communicating to each other?
“On three, everyone.” Cosette’s eyes grew excited, the tray gripped tightly in her hands. Everyone picked up the shot glass, save Roksana, whose stomach was taking repeated dives. The concoction determines what it is you want the most in life. It will amplify that desire. Enflame it. Was she ready to find out what that was? On paper, her greatest desire was being the badass slayer daughter her mother deserved. She wanted to avenge her friends. But what if she secretly wanted, needed, something…or someone much different?
“One, two…”
Elias tossed back his shot.
At the same time, Tucker dropped his on the floor, shattering the glass.
With everyone distracted by the error, Elias reached over in a blur of speed, took her shot glass and drank it himself. Within a split second, Roksana was staring down at an empty glass and Elias had gone back to looking bored.
“Damn. I’m so sorry about that,” Tucker boomed, slapping a hand to the center of his chest. “They keep telling me vampires are supposed to be cool and sophisticated, but I’m about as smooth as a speed bump, you feel me?”
Cosette grumbled on her way to the bar, but returned in a jiffy with a replacement shot.
With an affable smile, he drained it and passed the glass back to Cosette.
“Hold on a second,” Tucker said, feigning shock. “My greatest desire is to be able to eat sandwiches again? Can that be right?”
“It takes a while to start working,” Cosette snapped, adding something in French that was clearly not a glowing review of the cigar-smoking vampire.
Roksana scanned the table carefully, trying to determine if anyone had seen Elias down her shot, but no one appeared the wiser. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or suspicious of his motives, considering his surprise appearance tonight. Why had he done it?
There was no way to ask him without letting on they knew each other.
Although, Roksana was starting to wonder if she knew Elias at all.
An envelope floated down to the center of the table, dropped there by the man of the house. “There she is. Tonight’s grand prize.” He rubbed his hands together. “I will be your dealer this evening. Please remain seated and keep your hands inside the ride at all times. It could get bumpy.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Around the fifth hand, the air started to change.
To Roksana’s right, Elias shifted in his seat and a prickle rode up her arm.
Across f
rom her, Tucker had fallen uncharacteristically silent, his cigar stubbed out in the ashtray. Rob was paying more attention to the players than the cards, which would have been a valid strategy, except with his jaw clenched, sweat beading at his hairline, his stress was obvious—and she didn’t like it. A desperate energy was slowly winding everyone in its grip and the more pronounced it became, the more grateful she was to be concoction-free.
Whatever Elias’s motivation had been in drinking her shot, he’d given her the advantage of a clear head and she wasn’t going to waste it.
She was in the big blind position, so after checking her cards—ace, nine—she waited for everyone at the table to make their play, whether it was a call or a raise. Fae Twin Number One folded with a growled curse, Tucker called, Rob raised to quadruple the amount of the big blind.
The second fae twin went all in.
Wiping away his sweat with an agitated hand, Rob shoved all of his chips into the pot. “Call. I’m all in.”
On the fifth hand of the night?
Cosette giggled from her perch on a stool at the bar, stirring a peach-colored drink. “I guess it doesn’t take too long to kick in after all. The greed is already showing, darling.”
“Yes, it is,” purred the man of the house. “The option is to you, Elias.”
“Fold,” he rasped, sliding his cards to the dealer.
Roksana folded, too, more than happy to lose her small ante in favor of watching one of the other players risk their spot at the table and ultimately get knocked out.
Rob turned over his hand. A pair of twos.
Fae Twin Number Two hooted, whipping off his baseball cap to reveal enormous features, much like Cosette. He hopped to his feet and turned over a pair of tens.
“Tens have the advantage. Still. Anything could happen.” The man of the house laid down the flop. 7, J, 4. The turn was a queen.
The dealer savored the anticipation of turning over the final card, everyone including Roksana leaning in to see what it would be.
A two of diamonds.
“No!” Fae Twin Number Two bellowed, the force of it pushing against Roksana’s shoulders. “No, fuck that. Burned on the river? I had the better hand.” He turned and paced away, came ripping back. “You got lucky, you son of a bitch.”
This Time Tomorrow Page 13
