From the haunted look I know he never would have.
It might be a memory, but it’s also a punishment. Is that what I mean to him?
He shrugs his powerful shoulders, letting the fabric fall to the floor. The only other time I saw him shirtless was when I had just been attacked. I couldn’t look close. Only now can I see his tattoos clearly. And only now can I see the scars between them. Elaborate scrolls and dragon scales. They’re beautiful, and they almost, almost distract from the silvery lines between them. Scars.
I stand, sick to my stomach. “He did that to you.”
“Are you surprised?” he asks, his voice low and taunting. “Are you disgusted by me?”
He sounds so casual, but I know that’s not real. He hates them. Hates them so much he’s covered them up with miles of ink—still never enough. How many people have seen him this way? How many women have actually seen him naked?
How many suits does he wear to hide his past?
I reach out a hand. “Damon, please.”
He turns away with a rough sound. “We aren’t here to talk about my father. We’re here to play a final hand for yours.”
There’s bile in my throat. I’m sick looking at him, how beautiful he is, how broken. Except he holds himself away from me, his body straight, muscles tight.
Reluctantly I sit down across from him.
My voice comes out halting. More sincere than I’ve ever been with him. Tears prick my eyes. “I’m sorry. That I sent you back there. I was sorry every day of my life.”
“Don’t be,” he says softly. “I was never sorry I did that.”
“And now?”
He deals the final hand. “I guess we’ll find out.”
The cards look like snakes to me. Deadly. Poisonous. I don’t want to touch them. They’re the root of everything ugly in my life—gambling and risk. Money.
How could anything this dark actually help me?
Of course the slick coating on the thin cards feels the same in my hands when I pick them up. There’s nothing different about the cards. I’m the one who’s changed.
A straight flush. An incredible hand, minus one card.
It seems impossible. I have to keep my eyes down so he doesn’t see my excitement. My nervousness. Because this can’t be real. It’s like I’m dreaming the six of hearts. The seven, the eight, and the ten. The last card doesn’t suit, I’m hovering on the edge of a precipice.
I push the fifth card down and receive a new one.
I’m sure fangs will sink into my skin if I reach for it. Poison will spread through my veins. Calm down, I tell myself. It’s just a game. But I learned a long time ago that it’s more than that. It’s hunger and it’s pain. Or it can be survival.
My hand is strangely steady as I reach for the last card. Even if it bites me I have to know. I lift the card, struggling to breathe. Struggling to see. Adrenaline blurs the nine. The hearts. I got it. The straight flush.
A beautiful, perfect hand.
Elation runs through me. In that moment I know exactly why Daddy gambles. It’s impossible not to love this, not to become this wild triumphant creature. Intellect may make us human, but this desperate desire for risk keeps us animal.
Damon’s eyes glint dark in the lamplight. “You look pleased,” he says.
And he doesn’t look worried.
Because he wants me to win? Or because he knows he can beat me.
I put down my cards. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t react beyond a genial nod of his head, acknowledging a good hand. “Well played, baby genius. Not good enough, but still. A very good showing.”
One thud in my chest. Another. Painfully slow, time crawling now.
“How?”
He tosses down his cards with casual superiority. A royal flush. The only thing that could have beaten my cards, almost. And nearly impossible. The odds…
God, the odds.
Randomness doesn’t play favorites. That ace of spades is as likely to appear as any other card. The king, the queen. Except when you put the odds together, they multiply. They become infinitely smaller. Like in calculus, they approach zero—never quite reaching it.
My breath comes short. “You cheated.”
He laughs. “How do you know? Did you see me do something?”
My mind races, a hundred numbers swirling around, a thousand of them clamoring for attention. It’s really the simplest one that has the answer. The cards that we played. My hand of nothing, queen high. His three of a kind, queens.
“The queens. They’ve all been played.”
Which means the one sitting in front of us right now, it doesn’t belong in the deck. Whether he modified the deck beforehand or whether he used sleight of hand to insert it, that queen doesn’t belong in this deck. And I’m willing to bet the entire hand is fake.
“I don’t see how you can prove it,” he says, his voice mocking.
I stand up. “If you’re cheating the game doesn’t count.”
He stands too, reaching for his shirt. Putting it back on, like armor. Covering up the scars of the past and all that beautiful vulnerability. “Oh, the game most definitely counts. Your father is forfeit. And you, my sweet Penny, are free to go.”
I hope you loved reading Damon and Penny’s emotional book.
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Read the conclusion of their duet with the epic full-length novel THE QUEEN. Find out what happens when in this game of lies and loyalty, of betrayal and power.
Damon Scott is my own personal dragon, the fight I’ve always lost, the secret hope of my heart. And he needs my help right now. Only my mind can solve the puzzle. Only my presence can keep him sane as the city fights against him.
Only my heart can unlock a man with such a tragic past.
This is my final gamble, with everything at stake. One last game to win a future for both of us. And a love strong enough to break the city apart.
ONE CLICK THE QUEEN NOW >
About the Author
Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of contemporary romance such as the Chicago Underground and Stripped series. Her books have been featured in Jezebel, Buzzfeed, USA Today Happily Ever After, Glamour, and Elle Magazine. She makes her home in Texas with her loving family, two sweet dogs, and one evil cat.
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His Virgin
Vivian Wood
Chapter One