His gaze turns tender. I know that look. I used to see it right before he dragged me into his arms.
“Primus,” someone calls. Orna stands at the door to the common room, her face pale. An expressionless mask slams onto Tiernon’s face, and he gets to his feet, following her into the hall.
Lifting my new hand, I survey my own cards.
My hand is good. Really good.
I swallow, conscious of Rorrik’s attention on me. I have no doubt he’ll notice the slightest change of my breathing, the barest flicker of my eyes.
Neris folds with a scowl. Lucius pulls another card, and I study him beneath my lashes. He licks his lips when he has a particularly good hand, as if hungry for victory.
He’s not licking his lips now, though. No, his lips are pressed tightly together, even as he keeps his gaze carefully away from his cards.
Micah takes a card. His eyes turn mournful, and he taps the edge of his card with one finger, glancing toward the cards on the table, as if wishing he could swap his card for another. Despite my fury, I almost smile. He’s even worse at this than Gaius was.
Next to me, Neris sighs, shaking her head at Micah. Rorrik watches Micah with a hint of amusement in his eyes. It’s the first time he’s looked almost … human.
His eyes meet mine, and the glimpse of warmth in his eyes is so startling, I almost drop my hand. When he pulls his card, I study him carefully. But his fingers don’t twitch, his eyes don’t wander, his mouth doesn’t curve or scowl.
Deitra’s eyes brighten, and she plucks another card from the pile. When her eyes dim, I watch Lucius, who trades out a card, his face expressionless as he scans his new hand.
Steeling myself, I place a card down, swapping it for another. My heart leaps, and I shift in my seat, casually allowing my loose hair to slide over my shoulder to hide the pulse point pounding below my ear.
Rorrik’s gaze slides over my throat. Playing against vampires doesn’t seem fair. Even with their sense of smell dampened, their other senses are so heightened, they notice even the smallest tells.
But Tiernon taught me this too. I pull a breath into my lungs, forcing my heart to slow.
With a sigh, Micah folds, leaning back in his chair.
Deitra folds with a pout. From what I’ve seen so far, she must be young for a vampire. Not only is she terrible at hiding her emotions, but I can’t sense her age pressing on me like I do with Nyrant or Bran. And I don’t get the sense of a vast power hidden away like I do with Tiernon and Rorrik.
I study all their cards, attempting some quick calculations.
Lucius swaps out another card. His face is almost as difficult to read as Rorrik’s, but he spends so much time pasting on his carefully neutral expression, he fails to control his hands. One hand is fisted on the table, clenched so hard his knuckles are white.
“Clearly Lucius isn’t going to win.”For once, Rorrik’s words are empty of scorn and threat. Instead, he sounds almost … teasing.
My jaw clenches.“Get out of my head.”
“You opened the pathway between us when you ripped through my shields. And it seems you have no shields of your own.”
My heart trips. If I have no shields …
Rorrik takes a card. I watch him so, so carefully, but I have absolutely no idea what kind of hand he has.
“Ask me to teach you.”His eyes meet mine.
“No.”I place a card down and pick up a replacement, chest tight. Slowly, conscious of the eyes on me, I study my hand.
A bolt of pure victory flashes through me. I have no doubt Rorrik has seen it.
But it’s too late for him. Lucius puts his cards down, cursing as Rorrik places his on the table.
I’ve won.
My hands shake as I spread my cards out face up. No one speaks. I barely even breathe.
All of us are waiting for Rorrik’s reaction. With a slow smile, he pushes his favor toward me.
