I don’t need her to clarify whotheyare—she’s obviously referring to our two new co-rulers.
I grin, still fiddling with the one playing card as I shoot her a sideways look, recalling the loaded stare I witnessed between Mercy and Wolfgang at the public execution. “I think they’ve been enjoying their foreplay far too much to have indulged in anything yet.”
Constantine bursts out laughing, her gaze cast down on the table as she repeatedly stabs the knife into the open spaces between her outstretched fingers. “Silly rabbits.”
I let out an amused hum, my eyes sweeping over the casino floor while I take a sip of champagne.
My body grows unnaturally still, like a predator finally catching sight of their prey, when I land on a familiar face across the room. My nape tingles, and I almost laugh in delight.
It’sher.
Waves of brown hair tumble over the back of her gray knitted sweater, the rolled sleeves revealing countless tattoos on her fair skin. By the look of how her jeans hang loosely from her hips, she hasn’t had a decent meal in weeks. I wrinkle my nose at the sight.
My imagination quickly fights to replace the unsavory sight. Of her restrained and me feeding her, like my very own pet. Her curves would fill in nicely if I were the one caring for her. My body heats at the thought, my tongue smoothing over my teeth as I continue to study her from my vantage point.
She’s infested my thoughts ever since I let her escape the maze, unscathed. Naively, I thought the gods would soon lead me back to her. But a month has passed since then, and this is my first sighting of the waif. Luckily, a small inkling told me Pravitia had kept her nice and safe for me. I’m usually not a patient person—but who am I to twist the timing of fate?
She’s here now, isn’t she?
Constantine continues to babble beside me, but I’m no longer listening. Instead, my gaze burns into the profile of the brunette’s heart-shaped face as she settles into a chair at a roulette table. She bends over to speak to whoever is sitting beside her, and I recognize them as Zazel, one of my performers at Animus.
Hearing Constantine chirp a breathyOops!beside me, I snap my attention back to our table, only to find the blade of the knife jutting out of the thick of her palm.
“Gods be damned,” I mutter as I reach over and yank the knife out of her hand, blood gushing out of the wound as soon as it slides out.
“I could have done that myself,” Constantine says with a pout.
Typical, coming from the servant of the god of torture. She can’t feel pain and has a knack for self-inflicted wounds.
The blood is pooling on the green felt of the table, and I let out a theatrical sigh as I tug on the pink ribbon tied around one of her ponytails and impatiently wrap it around her palm to staunch the bleed.
“Go fix yourself,” I say with a flick of a hand.
Constantine rolls her eyes. “Party pooper.” She slides out of her seat, and with her uninjured hand, snaps her fingers to Albert, who follows her into the back of the casino like a large, bulky shadow.
Quickly swiveling my attention back to the roulette table, I suck in a breath when I realize my sacrifice is gone. I deliberate if I should go find her; she’s most likely still somewhere inside the walls of my casino. I decide to bide my time instead.
I’ve been known to play with my dinner before. I’m sure toying with her will be as delectable as when I finally sink my teeth into her ripe flesh. Sipping from my coupe, I lean into the back of my chair as I continue to flip the playing card between my fingers and slowly devise a plan.
At least now I know how to find her again.
4
GEMINI
Iidly kick an empty can with my boot as I stroll down the alleyway, my hands tucked into my pants pockets. The rank stench of garbage fills my nostrils and makes my stomach twist, but I ignore it, stepping into a run-down archway, leading into an even more dilapidated corridor.
It only takes a few quick strides before I reach the end. The gentleman manning the door straightens his shoulders when he sees me, seeming nervous, but still flashes me a warm smile. Unlike most of my ruling counterparts, I’m not particularly interested in having my followers or staff fear me.
Intentionalfear, that is.
It’s unimaginative and lacks subtlety.
I would rather lull them into false safety—false friendship even—before killing them with a smile. Unfortunately, I’ve spilled enough blood in my twenty-seven years to have my reputation precede me. Being best friends with the most ruthless of them all—Mercy and Constantine—hasn’t helped my image either.
Fear is the static behind the noise in Pravitia. We all feed on it. Served differently, depending on our personal whims. I likemine wrapped in apprehensive trust. And when I finally break that facade, the betrayal tastes even sweeter.
Besides, the constant charade makes it all the more interesting.
