Tears filled my eyes. “That can’t be…right.”
“I would like to offer you an olive branch. I want to train you to at least protect yourself. You have enough power to live independently if you want to. I need you to know how to use it to save yourself. Once you’re where you need to be, I’ll give you a choice. Either you can get the patch, as it were, and live your life under my protection, or I will strip you of this organization’s magical mark and constantly worry about your wellbeing. I think this is a fair offer.”
“And if I refuse?”
“I will trap you on my compound, force you to train to protect yourself, and then allow you to leave.”
“So…not totally a choice, then. Kind of a kidnapping situation.”
“The choice comes after the forced training…”
A tear tracked down my cheek, and I shuddered out a sigh, his body still inside mine, a strangely comforting feeling in this situation. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”
He hugged me tightly. “I know. The hand you were dealt wasn’t fair, but it is remarkable. You are incredibly powerful. I'm at the top of my class, and you are my mirror. This is a cheat-to-win situation. You need to let this hand ride so you can get an even bigger payout. Don’t cash in too early.”
“That’s a lot of poker metaphors.”
“Yeah. One of my hobbies is cheating at poker. I could probably win on skill alone, but it’s more fun to cheat and try not to get caught.”
The tightness in my shoulders seeped out of me. I’d hated him because he owned me, but he wasn’t the one who’d made that deal. Before the whole soul-mirror development, he’d intended to set me free. According to him, he still did. I couldn’t very well blame him for the things he’d said in the heat of the moment. I hadn’t possessed enough knowledge of his world to make sense of them.
He’d let me stay away, too. He hadn’t forced me to come back, not really.
In the end, Emeric wanted what was best for me. I’d had him all wrong.
I was still wary about all things demon-related, but that wasn't his fault. None of this was actually his fault. And he was right, I did need training. I was in a precarious position, being half-mortal and half-demon. Hiding from that fact wouldn't do me any favors. It was time to strap on my big girl panties and claim a future for myself. Whatever hand I had, it was mine. I needed to know enough about poker to play it.
I sighed and ran my fingertips over his smooth skin. “I’ll accept the training, and I’ll accept the choice. But as far as we go, this marathon of fucking is the last one. It’s over after this. I train, I leave, that’s that.”
“It’ll be like a game of poker," he said staring into me with those amber-rimmed eyes. "I’ll pretend to play by the rules and cheat like hell. In the end, the house always wins.”
I smiled and closed my eyes, feeling his hardness grow within me.
The house might always win, but the fun was in the game.
The End
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K.F. Breene is a Wall Street Journal, USA Today, Washington Post, and Amazon Charts bestselling author of paranormal romance, urban fantasy, and fantasy novels. With millions of books sold, when she’s not penning stories about magic and what goes bump in the night, she’s sipping wine and planning shenanigans. She lives in Northern California with her husband, two children and out of work treadmill.
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Copyright © 2021 K. Bromberg
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Published by K. Bromberg
Forever More is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author’s twisted imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
1
Annie
The music is piped in softly overhead to the nearly empty bar. There are a few stragglers sitting here and there, grabbing a last drink before heading home for the holiday. It’s probably their last reprieve before they are forced to endure their great grandma’s burnt turkey or spending time with their sibling they can’t stand.
I smile bittersweetly into my drink because it would be such a nice problem to have. Family to annoy you and drive you crazy. A place to go to where you belong regardless.
The barstool squeaks beside me as someone sits down, but I don’t look their way. Rather, I wait with bated anticipation that builds with each passing second before I hear a velvety smooth voice ask, “Whiskey on the rocks, huh?”
“It’s been that kind of week,” I say after a sip, my smile automatic despite the response. Nerves dance with that anticipation. Both hum through my veins even though we’ve been here, done this many times before.
“Let me guess,” he says as he points to my drink to order the same when the bartender looks our way. “Holiday blues got you down. Your roommates, your friends, everyone is leaving to go home for the holiday except for you?”