Chapter 7 #2
Korrad smirked as he dealt. I picked up my cards with a hand that only shook slightly, because I could feel Garrak’s intense gaze on me.
King of clubs, seven of hearts, nine of clubs, king of diamonds, seven of clubs.
Two pair.
I watched my opponents, telling myself not to allow Garrak’s weird green gaze to distract me. Dravik rearranged his cards, meaning he had something worthwhile, and Korrad frowned down at his hand.
“Who shuffled this shit?”
It was small talk, and it might mean something, but he hadn’t struck me as a particularly good player, so I didn’t pay much attention to it. Varron and Garrak were harder to read. I paid special attention to Garrak.
When it came time to bet, Korrad checked. Varron checked as well, but Dravik tossed in a fifty. Feeling cocky, huh? Well, so was I, with my two pair, kings and sevens. Grateful we weren’t playing with real money, I called. Garrak did as well.
Frowning, Korrad matched the bet, and we all turned to Varron, who was staring down at his hand. “Too rich for me,” he sighed and folded.
Not completely unexpected.
“How many cards?” Korrad asked Dravik.
The stern-looking male stayed put, which corroborated my theory about his hand. Obviously, I discarded the nine of clubs and picked up a three of diamonds, which did shit for me, but I kept my expression schooled.
Garrak, surprisingly, discarded two and accepted two. The way he sat back in his chair after held an air of satisfaction, and I chewed on my tongue, studying him.
“And dealer takes…three,” muttered Korrad. “Shit.”
When he checked, no one was surprised. Dravik threw in another fifty, which might’ve impressed me if I wasn’t already impressed by my own hand. I called, and we all turned to Garrak.
He hadn’t looked at his hand again, but now he sat, elbow on the arm of his chair, studying each of us. With steady movements, he reached for his chips. “I’ll match and throw in another fifty.”
One hundred and fifty now? One of my brows twitched.
Dravik scowled across the table. “You’re bluffing, aren’t you?”
“Am I?” Garrak asked mildly.
“Fuck you, you’re good,” the tatted-up male bit back, tossing down his cards. “Fold.”
“I’m out too,” Korrad agreed.
When Garrak turned to me, one brow raised in challenge, I clicked my stud thoughtfully against my teeth. He was bluffing, I knew it.
“I’ll raise you…” Shrugging, I slid a stack of chips through my fingers. “Two hundred.”
Garrak studied me for a long moment, then with a hum, slid in the same amount of chips. “Call.”
My heart was hammering against my chest; I knew he could hear it with his advanced senses. Hell, all of them could likely hear it, but I told myself I wasn’t giving anything away.
Garrak and I were the last two playing, and there was over eight hundred dollars on the table right now. Granted, it wasn’t real money; he’d explained that he didn’t take money from friends, but the adrenaline felt real.
My throat was dry as I flipped over my cards. “Two pair, kings and sevens.”
I held my breath as Garrak’s gaze bore into mine…until his lips twitched. He tossed down his hand, face up. “I just have trash.”
I wasn’t the only one to exhale in relief.
My hands shook as I reached across the table to scoop up my winnings, as Varron and Korrad both chuckled.
“I’ve never seen a human know when Garrak is bluffing,” Dravik announced solemnly.
With another laugh, Varron leaned toward me, as if he might nudge me. “How’d you know?”
“Yeah, sweetheart, how?” Garrak drawled, his green gaze still boring into me. “I don’t have any tells—not that a human can scent, anyhow.”
I shrugged, not entirely comfortable meeting his intense gaze. “I just knew. I’ve spent the last three days playing with you.”
The noise Garrak made sounded almost like a growl as he sat forward, and my gaze dropped to his chest.
“You mean you’ve been losing on purpose, pretty little human?”
I caught my stud between my teeth, worrying it. I didn’t want to lie to him, not after how good his praise had made me feel earlier. “I was studying you.”
He huffed what might have been a little laugh and propped his elbow beside his chips. “Not sure if I ought to be proud or mad.”
Korrad’s bark of laughter sounded a little manic as he pushed away from the table. “You should be proud of how well your Mate knows you!”
Garrak’s head whipped around. “Stevie’s not my Mate.”
“Bullshit,” laughed Varron, as he nudged Dravik. “How the mighty have fallen, huh?”
“She’s leaving tomorrow—” Garrak began.
But Brakkor had ambled back in with another beer and was glaring at the table. “Even I can see it, you dumb bastard.”
Thank God none of them had asked me what I thought about Korrad’s claim, because I wasn’t doing that great when it came to breathing, much less thinking or rationalizing.
Mate.
That was…that was intense, right? I mean, that wasn’t just the woman I’m fucking right now. Or even lies about love and marriage. I remembered the way he’d spoken of his little brother’s Mating, and I found myself licking my dry lips.
Mating was special.
It didn’t help that Garrak was staring at me now like I had all the answers.
Hell, I didn’t even have all the questions!
“E-excuse me,” I muttered, pushing away from the table and my winnings.
My mind was a mess because in that moment, I realized I wanted that. I wanted Garrak to think I was special. I wanted him to…to…to claim me as his.
I wanted to feel those big hands on all of me, to give myself over to him, to his control. To be held by him. Claimed by him.
To be his.
God, I wanted that.
Could I have it?
I stumbled into the kitchen, thinking I needed a beer of my own, and saw Brakkor follow.
When I straightened from the fridge and slammed the door, he was standing right there. I took a deep, shuddering breath, and popped the can. “I’m not his Mate,” I assured the glowering male.
“Oh, I know it.” His tone was mild as he lifted his own beer. “Not so sure you do.”
“I’m—I’m leaving tomorrow.” I couldn’t say going home, not when it felt like I was leaving a piece of myself here. “I can’t be his Mate.”
“Mates are bullshit.” Brakkor scowled down at his bottle. “Hunting. Catching. Fucking. That’s all life’s about.” He saluted me. “And judging from how knotted up Garrak is inside, you haven’t allowed any of that.”
I stumbled back, my hand going to the counter to maintain my balance. Hunting. Fucking. Was that what this guy thought it was all about? My hand shook too much to try to drink.
“What…” I began, trying to understand.
Garrak, where are you?
“Look, Stevie, it’s easy.” Brakkor tipped his head back, his eyes closed. I could see scars on his throat, and couldn’t tell if he was drunk or just tired. “Mating is a lie we tell ourselves to be happy. Find someone who makes you happy, and fuck her—”
“There you are!” Korrad’s tone was scolding and a little relieved as he joined us in the kitchen.
Garrak followed, and he… Well, he looked ready to rip someone apart.
I wondered if there was some way he’d felt my call.
Korrad was smiling a little desperately as he moved between Brakkor and me. “Sorry, Stevie. My brother was just trying to prove a point.”
“About what?” I asked in a shaky voice.
Korrad threw a glance at Garrak as Brakkor grinned at the ceiling. With his eyes shut and his scars, it didn’t look like a nice grin.
“About the possessiveness of Mates,” Korrad finally said. “He knew Garrak wouldn’t be able to stand the thought of another male in here alone with you.”
“Yeah,” drawled Brakkor. “Or maybe I’m just an asshole.”
“Get out,” Garrak growled.
The other two males glanced at him in surprise, but he was staring at me with that intense, hungry gaze.
“Get out,” he repeated, making a little slash with his palm. “Party’s over.”
Brakkor scoffed what might have been a laugh as his brother began to pull him toward the living room. Garrak stepped to the side to let them pass without dropping my gaze.
My pulse thundered against my temples, and I knew I was breathing too quickly. I wasn’t scared—oh no.
No, this was…something else.
Anticipation?
I heard the murmur of voices out in the living room—I guess they were packing up to leave—but I wasn’t going to bother dragging my attention away from the hot green light in Garrak’s eyes.
Hunt. Catch. Fuck.
Claim?
Beer forgotten, my hand fluttered to press against my chest as Garrak began to stalk toward me. The slam of the main door told me we were alone, and then he was in front of me, and the heat in his gaze matched the throbbing between my thighs.
His hand lifted, and when a claw dragged gently down my cheek, I shuddered. With need. He held me pinned with just his gaze, and I swayed toward him…
“So, all this time…”
With one flick of his wrist, he was holding my jaw. Possessively. Protectively.
I whimpered.
“You’ve been holding out on me, my pretty little human?”