As Sorin took his place on the other side of the woman, sandwiching her between himself and Korda where they stood at the roulette table, he swore he felt the air temperature drop a few degrees.
Back in the gallery corridor, there had been heat in her captivating dark blue eyes when she looked at him. Her creamy cheeks had flushed pink as they spoke, and he’d felt her desire for him like a physical caress.
Being an Incubus, Sorin’s senses were highly attuned to sexual interest and arousal. A few moments ago, the Nephilim had been throwing off both like hot sparks.
Now? It was as if she blocked him with a wall of ice. With barely restrained contempt, if he had to guess.
Interesting.
Most women would trample each other to get near one of the Incubi Masters. Not her. He was positive he’d never met the female before, yet it was clear enough that she detested him.
Why? He was eager to find out.
He was even more eager to feel her desire again. To taste it.
To taste her.
The approving growl that worked its way up his throat made her inch slightly farther from him. Sorin didn’t allow her the distance. He edged her way as the croupier spun the wheel and took the first bets at the table. Korda made a cautious wager on a split. Sorin called a single number and slid half his chips onto black.
Beside him, the Nephilim arched a slender brow. He could see her mentally calculating the tens of thousands of euros he’d just staked on the wheel, but she didn’t so much as glance at him. Not even when Sorin allowed the outside of his thigh to brush against hers.
But he caught her sudden intake of breath at the contact. He detected the sharp spike of her heart rate at the same time, and it was all he could do to refrain from touching a lot more of her as the ball rattled in the slowing roulette wheel.
Oh, she wanted him, even now.
But she was determined as hell to deny it—to herself and to him.
Because of the Incubus on the other side of her? Sorin doubted that. She didn’t seem interested in Korda Marakel either.
So, what kind of game was she playing?
She stared straight ahead, ramrod still, as the roulette ball found its pocket and the croupier called the winner. “Twenty, black. Congratulations, Master Sorin.”
He won the next spin too, and all of the players but Korda Marakel retreated from the table with their pockets emptied into Ebarron’s bank.
Korda was down to his last few thousand in chips. The Incubus gave a low chuckle as he toyed with his dwindling stack. “What is this, old friend? Some kind of revenge for what happened with Greta?”
Sorin smirked at the attempted jab. “If I’d been after revenge, you would’ve paid it a long time ago, old friend.” Now the Nephilim glanced at him, confusion in her night-dark eyes. Sorin held her curious gaze but spoke to the demon beside her. “You’re in my House now. If you sit down to play, you’d better be prepared to lose.”
To his surprise, she scoffed quietly. “No doubt especially in your House.”
Her accusation was so unexpected, it took him aback. Sorin cocked his head at her. “Are you implying that Ebarron would stoop to cheating?”
“You tell me.” Her expression was placid, unreadable.
Maddeningly so.
As the croupier put the wheel in motion and called for bets, Sorin reached over and took the Nephilim’s hand in his.
She sucked in a sharp breath as his fingers closed around hers. “What are you—”
He drew her hand toward him without explanation, feeling her pulse jackhammer under his fingertips. Their contact felt electric, hardening him in seconds.
Her eyes were wide now, uncertain. But underneath her confusion, curiosity flared. The chilly front she tried to erect between them couldn’t hide the heat that still burned inside her.
Sorin smiled a dangerous smile. He was a man accustomed to getting what he wanted, and right now, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to make this icy blond female combust in a screaming, soul-shattering orgasm. He could do it right now, with the power of the thrall, but where was the challenge in that?
“You seem to think I don’t play fairly,” Sorin murmured as he brought her fingers down onto his pile of chips, his own hand still covering hers. “So, I want you to place my next bet.”
“No, I—” She shook her head. Even though his grasp was loose on her, she didn’t try to pull away.
“You and I both know this is what you want.” His grin deepened with meaning, and he could see she was smart enough to catch his innuendo. “Go on,” he demanded. “My fortune is in your hands.”
Her soft features froze over a bit at his remark. The instant Sorin relaxed his hold on her, she shoved an entire stack of chips across the table onto the red number five.
On the other side of her, Korda chuckled, then bet the same amount on a black number.
The black won.