Page 8 of Stars in Halo

He sported a full head of silver hair and a salt-and-pepper beard and was partial to fried food, which the servers brought to him by the tray load.

His calm demeanour and gentle smile belied a lifetime of experience at the card table. Yet the beaming man was suspected to be the ghost leader of a ruthless cabal in Falasia. The Riders had tagged him some time back, convinced he was stalking the salon for opportunities to expand his organisation’s wings and enterprise to Eden II.

Kainan Sable, the Sable Group head, had tasked Xion with dissuading him of the idea.

More than enough, Xion growled at Mirage via their node link.

Your call, khosi, the synth creature said with a slight nod.

‘How much longer?’ muttered Vincent, eyes flickering with impatience.

He smoothed his slicked-back hair, fingers tapping against the table, a nervous habit that betrayed his cocky facade.

Xion was aware of Vincent’s reputation—winning at any cost. He was willing to stoop to unimaginable depths to come out on top.

‘Any second now,’ the Sable consigliere smiled.

On cue, the salon door whispered open, and a figure spirited inside.

Xion’s eyes sliced to the newcomer.

A woman.

Stunning. Lithe. Sleek.

Their eyes met, and his breath hitched as his entire soul and inner being lurched in response to her.

What the freakin’ fokk?

His lightning-fast metanoids raced to maintain control over his ratcheting heart rate while they made an expeditious assessment.

Depending on the angle of light, her face could have belonged to an angel or a seductress in equal part.

Tiny dermal diamonds were inset onto her dermis in a flourish on her left cheekbone.

A second set sat in a halo at her hairline, disappearing under her swinging mane.

More jewels adorned her nose and ears.

Her eyes, lined with dark kohl, sparkled with wildfire. Her mouth, sensual and full-lipped, was enough for Xion to lick his own in longing and bite his lower lip.

Jet-black hair cascaded down her back in loose waves.

A form-fitting dress clung to her curves like tight skin, casting her like a goddess. The ebony synth-silk glittered when she moved, revealing a mix of metallic shine and intricate motifs.

He leaned back and devoured her with his meta-heated eyes.

The room fell silent as all eyes turned in her direction, captivated by her presence.

As she approached the mesa, his nostrils flared as desire hit with such heat he almost flinched.

Damn.

He had seen countless players enter this room before. Still, none had ever possessed such an aura of mystery and allure, giving off so many pheromones that he stiffened with even more scorched need under his meta-suit.

‘You’re late,’ Mirage clipped at her, not looking up from the betting surface, sucking on their synth cheroot.

‘Apologies,’ came the throaty, husky deliverance. ‘I was caught up in a pressing matter. But I’m here now, ready to play.’

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