Page 42 of Revenge & Ruin

She flips over her cards—king of spades, king of clubs. A set of kings. Strong. Deadly, even.

But not enough.

I reveal my hand, letting the cards spread across the felt.

“Straight,” I say, the word rolling off my tongue with satisfaction.

For the first time since we started playing, I catch the faintest flicker of something in her eyes. Fear, perhaps.

She doesn’t let it show for long, though. That mask of hers is back in place before anyone else can notice. She leans back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other, her posture deceptively casual.

“You didn’t specify how many rounds,” she finally announces, stubborn and almost childlike.

“I didn’t take you for a sore loser.”

Her eyes flash dangerously. “You know nothing of loss.”

Her chair scrapes back just as the dealer slides the mountain of chips toward me, and I feel the victory, the weight of it, in every fiber of my being.

I can’t let her back out of our deal.

I stand up a moment later, flicking a plastic chip to the dealer. “Have this ordered for me?”

He catches it and nods once. If he says anything at all, I don’t hear it. He’s already shooting through the room after the blonde in the red dress.

It’s not hard to spot her moving through the crowd with the elegance of a dancer, turning heads wherever she goes.

That feral part of me wants to lash out at every man who deems himself worthy enough to look at her.

I bury it as I chase her, watching her as she slips behind a discrete-looking staff door. I follow, not more than a few paces behind.

But when I step into the corridor that lies beyond it, there is no one in sight.

Cautiously, I step forward, unnerved by the sudden lack of sound, as if the door behind me was some kind of portal to another world.

I barely make it a few steps when something yanks me back, pulling me into some kind of maintenance closet, and then…

“Mmph,” I groan as those sinful lips force themselves onto mine.

It’s a desperate, clawing kind of kiss, one that has her pressing her entire body into mine, raking her hands through my hair, along my face.

Those goddamn nails. The scratches she left down my back last time weren’t enough. I need her to tear through my skin.

It’s frantic and messy and oh-so glorious. I’ve been thinking about this,missingthis for two whole days.

It’s enough to make a man go mad. Well, I suppose I already did a little.

It’s just a shame I’m not going to fall for it again.

I wait until she tries to wrap her legs around me before truly revealing my winning hand.

She freezes at the feeling of my blade at her throat.

“What was it you were saying about déjà vu?” I whisper to her as she jerks backward.

God, she looks delicious when her lipstick smudges like that.

“You can’t kill me here,” she hisses back. Her eyes are wide in alarm.

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