Hounded [Wild Hunt Series: 2]

3: Evocation

Konoba - Smoke & Mirrors

I stacked a couple pillows to lean against, enjoyed the comfortable slide of feathers between my back and the headboard. Chiro lifted the lid from the box he'd brought along; a faint scent of something sweet and fruity butterflied through the rain-dampened air between us, then he'd closed it again and brushed a faint dusting of leaves off the deck of cards. It was the one I'd pulled from his desk, decorated with the designs of creatures I didn't recognize. He shuffled them with a magician's finesse. Show off. He set the deck between us and asked me to cut it.

"It's been a long day, Chiro." Feet crossed daintily at the heel, I nudged his knee with my toe. "I'd rather be playing solitaire."

He took the statement for what it was, didn't bother hiding an amused grin. "Play often, do you?"

"Not enough," I admitted, reaching for the deck. "What game have you got in mind? I might need a lesson. Been a while."

"We'll start with poker: follow the queen."

That I could do. "And the ante?"

He slid the first card across the cobalt coverlet. His finger tapped the faded back contemplatively. "Don't think that'd be fair to you."

His hand brushed mine as I pulled the card into my possession. I wanted to be cool, to say something silky and smooth and clever, but my tongue swelled shut to the roof of my mouth. Instead, I managed a soft, "Oh?" and raised my eyebrows.

"I'll have to spot you a couple items," he continued, nonchalant mind-reader that he was. "If those are stakes you want."

I found myself fingering the hem of my thin robe, realized that I had three, only three, pieces of clothing. Was that enough? "This game is half luck," I mused, more for myself than him.

I was met with a soft chuckle of agreement, a bright glint of hawkish grey eyes. In a smooth motion Chiro pulled off his shirt, and my mind had slipped back into the warm waters of the springs, where his hands lingered on my shoulders. Something more pleasant than a shiver gripped me at my core. It was physical, but it wasn't, a sort of anxious squeeze that made me dizzy with anticipation. Then he spoke.

"Some people have all the luck," he said, the corner of his mouth drawn up as he dealt himself a single card face down.

At that, I set my card aside, tugged my sleeves so he couldn't see the goosebumps, and trundled toward the dresser with the intention of layering myself up like I was a grandma in the dead of winter. I didn't like to lose. And Chiro was gonna cheat. I saw it is his ho-hum smile as I stepped away.

"This doesn't seem appropriate," I said, emphasis on the dubious nature of our card games. I fished out a couple extra shirts and pulled them on one at a time. "I'm an engaged woman."

"Lady Wilson," he said with a jolly sort of impatience as I marched back. He folded his shirt on his lap, then set it on the floor. "You have the wrong idea. This I took off to dry. I was talking money."

"And now you're talking crap."

"I wouldn't call it inappropriate," he continued, dealing the rest of the hand while I made myself comfortable in my new attire. He flipped over the pale face of a monstrous king, then met my eyes. "Not when you're supposed to be with me."

Wild cards and all, he won the first hand. The evidence lay flat between us. The first of my layers came off to Chiro's satisfied expression. He sprawled out on his side, lazy in victory, like he could just lounge around and it was not all a challenge to read my poker face.

I got him the next time; didn't so much as wipe the smile off his face. He took my snarky little comments in stride and shuffled the cards. A few hands later I was losing, losing real bad. I'd gotten a boot off him, and, generous man Chiro was, he comped me the second one. By the time I'd been forced into the careful maneuvering of undergarments, I'd spent more time trying to figure out how he was cheating than I was paying attention to the cards in my hand. Everything but the robe was piled on the floor. I laid my bra on top and scooted back against my pillows.