Authors: Lexxie Couper
Turning back to Katrina, his grin grew devilish. “Do
you
bite,
ma cher
?”
“Only those foolish enough to provoke me.”
Black eyes glinted. “Oh, I would provoke you, yes? I would let you devour me, if it meant feeling your teeth on my flesh.”
The tingle-now-tickle in her spine spread into the pit of her stomach and Katrina felt her pulse quicken. “I’m a fussy eater,” she shot back. “I avoid oily food.”
He laughed, a rich sound that struck a chord buried deep in the shadows of her mind. She openly studied him, imprinting every detail of his face on her brain. There was something about it, something about the hard angles of his cheekbones, the strength of his nose, the brooding arrogance of his brow that caressed a deep memory. She’d never seen The Mouse’s face, she’d never been that close to catching him, but she was almost certain she’d seen
this
man’s face before.
Or was it wishful thinking?
“Oily food can be good for the blood,
cheri
. Especially when the heart beats quicker than normal. When one is excited, for instance.” Lifting his own eyebrow, as if accepting a challenge she didn’t know she’d made, he threw five gold chips onto the table.
Five thousand credits. Katrina shot a look at her own bet: Five hundred credits. She cast the man a pointed look. “Compensating for something?”
His answering chuckle pinched her nipples tighter again and his unreadable eyes held hers as their cards were dealt.
Their dealer cleared his throat. “Dealer stands on all seventeens.”
Starting, Katrina checked her cards: Ace of Clubs, eight of Hearts. A soft nineteen.
“Playing to win?”
The man’s deep, smooth voice—accent thick and rolling—drew her gaze to his. “Always.”
“Do you ever play for fun?”
“Never.”
The sensual lips twitched, but his eyes remained fixed on hers, intent and inescapable. “A shame. Playing for fun is most…pleasurable.”
She dropped her attention to his cards. Ten of Hearts. Seven of Diamonds. Seventeen. A good hand.
He lifted a beading glass of whiskey to his mouth and Katrina found herself staring at the rim of the cut crystal where it met his mouth, the quick glimpse of his teeth and tip of his tongue as he took a small sip stirring something deep within her memory. She frowned. “I know you.”
Black eyes glinted. “I wish it were so,
ma cher
, but I am afraid you are mistaken.”
Katrina shook her head slightly. “No. I know you. We’ve met before.”
He chuckled again, the wicked sound sending a ripple of surprising dark want into Katrina’s core. “Perhaps in your dreams. Those you would not admit to even your closest friend?”
A wave of heat flooded Katrina’s face and belly. Her dreams. God, she didn’t want to admit to
herself
her dreams. She fixed him with a level stare. “I tell you what, if my next hand beats yours, you will tell me how I know you.”
The man took another sip of whiskey, refusing to look away from her as he did so. “Agreed,” he said. “But if
my
hand wins, you will let me have you.”
A wild flutter exploded to life in Katrina’s sex. “Have?”
His piercing black stare answered her question. An image of his tall, lean body sliding, moving over hers filled her head and her pussy fluttered again.
She shoved the image from her mind.
He’s not The Mouse. And The Mouse is who you’re
—
A dark eyebrow arched. “I did not take you for a coward. Perhaps you are not as skilful at playing games as you would wish people to believe. A meek little mouse, not a fierce lioness.”
His words sliced into her like a blade. Mouse. Was the word a coincidence or a taunt?
“Perhaps you are scared,” he continued, eyes unreadable black pools. “Of the woman inside who longs to be free. Why else would you be here in Los Magia.”
Katrina narrowed her stare. “You tell me.”
He chuckled. “If you win.”
Meek little mouse… Here in Los Magia
…
She tilted her chin and dropped another one-hundred credits in chips on her stack. “Agreed.”
With languid calm, the man threw five gold chips onto the table, never removing his stare from her.
The dealer flipped Katrina her first card. Ten of Clubs.
Pulse quickening, she watched him deal the man to her left. Ace of Diamonds.
The Dealer place the “hole” card down before him, and then it was back to Katrina.
Feeling like she was covered in ants, she watched her new card slide from the pack. Ten of Spades.
Twenty
.
A sense of victory warmed her blood and she turned to the man beside her, smile wide and—she had to admit—smug. “Sit.”
Their dealer slid another card from the pack and placed it face-up before the man beside her.
Nine of Clubs.
Katrina’s sucked in a swift, but silent breath. Twenty.
Black eyes regarded her. Unwavering. Arrogant. It was as if his cards held no importance to him at all. He tapped the table once with one long finger. “Hit.”
A thrill of incredulous surprise shot through Katrina. Hit? With twenty? What were the odds—
The dealer flicked out another card.
Time froze. The room fell to silence. All she could hear was the beat of her heart—wild, erratic. Frantic. Pulse pounding, she watched the dealer turn the card and placed it face up it beside the man’s nine of Clubs. Her mouth went dry. Ace of Clubs.
Sinfully sexy lips curled in an arrogant smile. “Twenty-One.”
“Dealer busts,” their dealer said suddenly and Katrina jumped, flinging her stare from the man’s winning hand to the dealer’s.
Ten of Diamonds, six of Clubs, eight of Clubs: twenty-three.
Turning back to the man beside her, heart hammering, she found him standing, his expression completely unreadable. “Room Forty-Two,
minette sexy
. The Western Wing. Twenty minutes. Do not be late.” He turned from the table, winnings still stacked on the felt, and walked away, his tall frame dominating the space even as he disappeared into it.
Katrina stared after him, wanting to scream. God, she recognised that walk. She did. But how? Why? A ghost of a memory flitted through her mind. An echo of a moment. There, teasing her, then gone. Just as quickly as the man himself.
Damn it.
She swallowed, her pulse quickening.
Minette sexy
. Sex kitten.
An image of the latex cat’s costume spread out on her bed flashed through her mind and she swallowed again.
Had the very prey she hunted just caught her?
And if so, why were her knickers growing wet with anticipation?
Chapter Five
“She’s quite addictive, is she not? Australian Federal Police Officer, Katrina O’Lauchlan.”
The Mouse didn’t need to remove his stare from the departing Katrina’s back to know Abaddon stood to his right. He’d had more than one conversation with the man on the phone to recognise his mysterious client’s voice. “I was wondering when you’d make an appearance.”
“I could not wait until tomorrow night,” Abaddon replied, and The Mouse heard an undercurrent of mirth in the man’s deep voice. “You have lost the accent, I notice. This is good. Your real one is much more…” A pause followed. “…Australian.”
The Mouse flicked the man beside him a quick look. “So is my patience. I have the
Australis Night
. I assume you have my three million credits?”
Abaddon laughed, the sound pressing a chill to the base of The Mouse’s spine. “To the point, I see.”
“Not really,” The Mouse replied. “I’d just rather not spend too much time with you.”
Abaddon’s eyebrows shot up and The Mouse felt a sudden wave of irritated heat roll through him. “Fearless too. Even better.”
The Mouse narrowed his eyes. “All the better for what?”
Abaddon shifted beside him, and from the corner of his eye The Mouse noticed he tracked Katrina O’Lauchlan’s movements through the crowded casino floor. “There is a stone I wish you to procure. Currently kept in
The Wicked Lynx’s
vault.”
The Mouse felt his chest grow tight. “No.”
Abaddon continued as if he hadn’t spoke. “It is a large diamond. About the size of my fist. Within its heart is an iridescent pale blue glow.”
“No.”
“It is quite valuable. Especially to me. Once I have the
Daemon Moon
the three million is yours.”
“No.”
Abaddon turned to him, blue eyes glowing with an unnatural intensity. “But you haven’t heard the sweetener.”
The Mouse kept his stare on Katrina O’Lauchlan, knowing any moment she would be swallowed by the early morning gamblers. “The sweetener? What, my life? If I don’t steal this
Daemon Moon
for you, you’ll turn me to toast?” He flicked Abaddon a quick look, not remotely trying to hide his disdain. “C’mon, even for someone as Hollywood B-Movie as you, that’s a little clichéd, don’t you think?”
A bright flare of anger erupted in Abaddon’s cerulean eyes and The Mouse felt his skin grow hot, as though he’d stepped too close to an open fire. “I forgot about the Australian sense of humour—dry, caustic. And your lack of respect for those in power.” His handsome face seemed to shimmer and for a split second, the chiselled features blurred into a mask of hideously bestial structure. “
Your
life is not the sweetener, my friend. The very delectable Ms O’Lauchlan’s life, on the other hand…”
The Mouse gave Abaddon a flat stare, his blood growing cold. “Why should I care about the life of a cop? Especially one who’s caused me no end of trouble?”
Abaddon’s mouth stretched into a broad grin, pointed fangs flashing between parted lips. “You tell me…Flynn Marsters.”
Flynn clenched his jaw. “You seem to have all the answers, Abaddon. So let’s hear some of them.”
Abaddon gave him a smug grin. “Such as?”
“How do you know who I am?”
The fangs flashed again. “I have not spent the last century in the Ninth Level of Hell without learning a thing or two about those with sin in their souls. And your soul is very, very sinful, Mr Marsters.”
Flynn ground his molars together. “You’re behind the times, Abaddon. I’m retiring.”
“But not before you retrieve what I want.”
“What’s so special about it?”
Abaddon’s grin faded and Flynn’s skin prickled with heat again. “It contains something very important to me. Something taken unfairly.”
“Contains? In a diamond? What?”
“She is quite remarkable, Ms O’Lauchlan,” Abaddon casually stated, nodding at Katrina’s back as—finally—she disappeared in the crowd. “A Kat worthy of attention.”
Every muscle in Flynn’s body coiled. “Stay away from her, Abaddon. You may not be human, but that won’t stop me bringing down a whole world of hurt on you if you don’t.”