Bad blood

Stalks.

Fear ignites in my veins again, and this time it’s the kind that no amount of free drinks can extinguish.

“Ma’am,” snaps the dealer, losing patience with me.

I play my cards while I'm still staring at the man, oblivious to the excited gasps all around me as I claim another win.

He’s close now. I can see the satisfied twist to his cruelly sensual mouth. He’s younger than I’d first figured—maybe mid-twenties—but he’s the sort to view his age as a disadvantage. Maybe that’s why he’s overpromoting his dangerous vibe.

At the last second, I drop my eyes to the table. I feel the heat of his gaze passing over my lowered head like a blast from a furnace, and then he’s offering up his broad back to me as some kind of “fuck you, I’m not interested”.

He skims past the poker tables, and then he and the other guy disappear into a door marked “private”, adjacent to the long bar.

His shadow continues to linger over the floor.

I glance at my fellow players to see if anyone else is affected by the Tornado of Danger that just blew through the casino, but all eyes are fixed on the dealer.

Without thinking, I chuck a couple of thousand in chips into the betting circle, and then scramble to remember the last cards that were played. Come on, Thalia… keep it together. But it’s like my concentration just disappeared through a door marked ‘private’, too. The urge to run is so strong, my fingers start gripping the edge of the table. My father always swore that instinct was his greatest weapon.

Whoever that man is, I need to stay away from him at all costs.

That’s when I do something I’ve never done at a blackjack table before—I make a stupid, rash decision that sets my destiny on a collision course with the Prince of Darkness himself.

I add every single chip I’ve won tonight to my pile on the betting circle before a single card is dealt.

I need to get the hell out of here, and I need to do it fast.