Page 31 of A Promise of Peridot
“I call.” It fell out of my mouth.
“With what?” Crawford’s eyes gleamed at the neckline of my eyelet lace dress.
I could renege. Claim I had miscalculated and see if they would let me off the hook. But seeing the looks on their faces, knowing how desperately the crooks wanted to see me cower, it only made me more determined. Bolder. Braver.
I looked down at myself, appraising. I couldn’t give up my dress and risk nudity. I wasn’t even wearing a chemise or corset, which weren’t customary in this kingdom. That only left...
“My undergarments.”
“Absolutely not,” Kane bit out.
The last time I had felt this heated and restless and electrified... was in his arms. I chased after the feeling. “You don’t own me. Or my undergarments.”
Crawford’s eyes gleamed with vicious pleasure. “I hope you know what you’re doing. I have a full house already.”
I needed that heart now. Any heart would do. Rhett dealt out the final card.
Bleeding Stones.
It was a four of clubs.
11
kane
Arwen stood up, delicately tucked her hands under her dress, and pulled down the lace garments. Then she threw them onto the table.
“There,” she said. The chair beneath her scraped along the floor when she sat back down.
I bit down on my cheek until I tasted copper. A wisp of fabric shouldn’t have this kind of effect on a man. And yet a spike of lust so powerful it made me dizzy rushed through my blood. I couldn’t look at the others. I wouldn’t be able to control my rage.
“Arwen! You minx,” the witch lilted.
“I didn’t think the dainty thing had it in her,” Crawford muttered around his cigar.
But his eyes were so pleased. I wanted to carve them from his head.
Not being able to shift at all in Azurine was making it that much harder to control such urges. It was a release, it was exercise, and it staved off loneliness, bad impulses, and all my other brutishbehavior. Though shifting used a lot of lighte, I wagered it was worth it, as I got myself into fewer scenarios that required I use my power in the first place.
Deep breaths.
Rhett’s coins clinked, the sweet, rich rum of Griffin’s drink filled my nostrils, and beside me smoke puffed from Trevyn’s fat cigar, making the lamplight hazy.
I studied Arwen. The petal-pink blush that had bloomed on her cheeks and across her nose, her barely parted bee-stung lips, the surprising look of success, of pride—despite losing the hand—that danced in her eyes.
She felt... good. Perhaps a little frightened. But bold. Attractive.Alive.
Two weeks of watching Arwen move through the world like a ghost, and tonight she had returned to the land of the living. I wasn’t naive to the siren call of sex and drink and danger. It had been my own lifeblood for many years.
“I’ll never be able to scrub that image from my mind.” Her brother groaned in disgust.
She laughed. Actuallylaughed. It had been weeks since I’d heard the sound. Like the ringing of temple bells, I felt that harmony in my entire body.
Nothing was safe. Not her bewitching smile when she laughed, nor her death glares when they were turned on me—on a daily basis, it was taking every inch of power in me, both lighte and sheer will, not to drop to the floor and beg her to put me out of my misery.
“You could have a promising career as a very specific type of entertainer, bird.” Finally she looked in my direction, only to shoot me a withering glare. I clenched my jaw to suppress a smirk.
I narrowed all my dwindling focus down to the cards in my hands instead.
