Chapter 5
The entire encounter with the Ace Reynard had left my head in a daze.
While my attention should have been focused on the cards laid out in front of me, my thoughts kept wandering back to Sevenfold’s owner. Not only was he not the wrinkled old fogey I had assumed, but he was the furthest thing from it.
I could still catch hints of his musky cologne even after he had taken his leave, an intoxicating scent of burnt amber and spiced vanilla. The goosebumps his voice—all gravel and silk—had raised across my skin had only just begun to fade.
Out of the entire interaction, the thing that didn’t sit well with me was the fact that my precognition couldn’t see into an immediate future with him.
It was the first time I’d ever had my power fail me—no sneak peeks, no previews, no snippets.
Maybe it meant he had no interest in me, so there was no future to look at.
No, that couldn’t possibly be the reason—I was far too attractive for him not to have even the faintest spark of interest.
I never questioned if my ability had a daily limit, but the thought did fleetingly cross my mind.
Fuck, this would be a shitty time to find this out.
“Miss Bechette?” The dealer interrupted my thoughts.
Everyone at my table was looking at me as I glanced down at my cards—a six of hearts and a nine of diamonds, resulting in a questionable fifteen. In the amount of time it took me to blink, my mind’s eye foresaw the next card being a four of hearts, resulting in a more respectable nineteen.
Lying my hand on top of the table, the generously gifted strand of diamonds around my wrist sparkled beneath the lights. My finger tapped the tabletop twice. “Hit,” I instructed without any wavering in my voice.
Even the dealer looked skeptical before he laid down my predicted card on top of my first two. I suppose my power was working fine after all.
Hmph.
The second round flew by while I continued to combat the distraction of the man monopolizing my thoughts.
Occasionally, I would glance around the room to search for him, but there were far too many people standing around my table spectating.
It was nice being admired, but not when it inconvenienced my interests.
While being a precog weighed heavily in my favor, it didn’t guarantee a win every time.
Seeing into the future only provided partial coverage of what was to come.
If it were as easy as being all-knowing, Tighe would be out of prison, and I would have bankrupted all of Superbia and crowned myself queen a long fucking time ago.
Instead, my ability merely gave me the knowledge to know how much to bet to minimize losses while making the best move to secure wins where possible.
Overall, my success rate was over double that of the average person, who, if they played perfectly, would only have a forty-two percent win probability.
There was no hiding my lack of surprise when I made it to the third and final round. By comparison, all the others were amateurs, and each deck was stacked in my favor.
I was seated at a table with a man bearing a smug look across his pale, clean-shaven face.
Too clean if you asked me. It almost looked like wet porcelain and equally as unforgiving.
He was the only thing standing between me and a quarter million in cold, hard cash.
When he smiled lecherously at me, the sharp points of his upper canines pressed against his lower lip.
A fucking vamp. Gross.
“Name’s Percy. What’s yours, sugarplum?” He leaned over closer to me, extending his bony hand toward my own.
Out of mere politeness, I hesitantly shook his hand, watching as his fingers curled around mine. His touch was cool and slimy like grave moss after a rainstorm.
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.
“Miss Bechette, you have a choice to make. You can walk away right now with your prize,” he said as he waved an envelope in front of me. Then he lifted his other hand, which held a rectangular chip that appeared to be made of precious gold.
“Or you have the chance to double your winnings.” He smiled with a glimmer in his eyes, hinting at which choice he would make.
It wasn’t a difficult decision; the odds were stacked in my favor. Walking out of here with enough money to bust Tighe out of prison with some to spare? Who would turn down that opportunity?
Smiling, I plucked the golden plaque from his fingers. “I’m a sucker for maximizing my wins.”
“Excellent,” he purred and tucked the money envelope back into his jacket. “If you follow me, I will show you to the Specialty Wager Room where you will play one final hand against Sevenfold’s owner, Mr. Reynard.”