My smile widened.
“I don’t usually make mistakes. It’s because I’ve been drinking.”
I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Really? You’re going to blame the alcohol?”
Jhaeros’s spine stiffened. “I’ve been drinking since my arrival whereas you are clearheaded. I saw you get rid of that blue concoction Elohir prepared for you.”
What a sore loser—before he’d even lost the game. I couldn’t believe I’d ever been intimidated by him. At least he still had enough wits to see where the game was headed. I wanted to beat him. No, I needed to beat him, and I needed my victory to be undeniable.
“Very well, Jhaeros,” I said, pronouncing his name disdainfully. I sat up straighter on the settee. “How many cocktails would you say I should drink to make this a fair game?”
Jhaeros’s jaw dropped slightly and eyes widened. He closed his mouth and shook his head.
“I apologize, Lady Thezlina. I would never insist on such a thing, especially not from a lady.”
“Too late,” I said. “Would you be so kind as to fetch me a drink?”
Jhaeros glanced over his shoulder at the open door but didn’t move. He wrung his fingers in his lap.
I tapped my foot over the plush carpet. “I’m not making another move until you fetch me a drink.”
“It’s my turn,” Jhaeros noted.
“Then take it and go so we can get on with our game.”
“You have a very pert tongue for a lady,” Jhaeros grumbled.
“And you are excessively stubborn.” Not to mention uptight and proud. Clearly the scotch wasn’t working. Even his tux looked stiff—every shirt button fastened all the way up to his neck and the strong jaw above the starched collar. He didn’t appear drunk in the slightest. Taking little sips of scotch since his arrival wasn’t enough to get him to loosen up.
Jhaeros moved a shrub, trying to break mine up, and then stood.
“As the lady requests, I will return shortly with liquid refreshments. What would you like?”
A wicked grin spread over my lips.
“I’d like the succubus’s signature drink. It’s called Party in Your Mouth.”
Jhaeros winced, eyes squinting as he did. I had to bite my tongue to hold back a laugh. I wished I could be there to hear him order the beverage—say the name aloud—but imagining it still brought enough cruel satisfaction to tide me over.
I looked Jhaeros in the eyes and raised my eyebrows in challenge before remembering he would not be able to see them raised behind the mask. Still, Jhaeros recognized the dare in my voice.
He nodded once before walking briskly from the room.
My chest heaved, not with the expected relief, but disappointment. What if he didn’t return? I felt like a cat who’d lost the mouse she’d only just begun to play with. Jhaeros’s retreat seemed to suck the warmth right out of the room.
A hush settled around me. Even the fire seemed to stop crackling. I glanced several times at the campaigne board, but the static pieces were as comforting as the silence.
My foot tapped against the carpet, impatient once more, eager for his return. What was wrong with me? I couldn’t even blame alcohol. I’d told him I wanted to be left alone, but I’d been lying. I’d spent the past fifteen months alone—surrounded by Fae, always guarding my words. My moods. My heart.
When Jhaeros returned, my traitorous heart leaped with relief. Loneliness was a sickness, and even the presence of my sister’s ex-admirer eased the ache inside my chest.
He looked like a waiter with the silver tray he carried filled with drinks. How much of a threat did he think I was? I supposed I ought to feel flattered.
Jhaeros set the tray down beside the campaigne board and plucked the stem of a martini glass, lifting the familiar pink cocktail with the candied rim.
“For you,” he said, handing me the drink.
“Is this the—” I started to ask as I took it from him.
“Yes,” Jhaeros said quickly, gnashing his teeth together.
I smiled sweetly, lashes fluttering.
He cleared his throat. “I took the liberty of ordering a Twenty-Four Karat Gold and several different wines.”
I glanced at the tray, taking in all the drinks.
“And the three glasses of scotch?”
“For me,” Jhaeros said. “It’s only fair.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to try one of these?” I asked, lifting my pink cocktail.
Jhaeros grimaced.
“I’ll stick to scotch.”
“You really ought to try something different one day,” I said, nodding at the drinks. But Jhaeros’s eyes latched on to my lips then traveled south, resting on the soft swells of my bosom, pushed up by the corset.
His eyes dilated and only months of practice helped me maintain my composure. I’d never seen lust in Jhaeros’s gaze, not even when he’d doted on Shalendra. He’d pampered her as though she were a favored child. The raw look he leveled me with now was one of a male who wanted not only to give, but to take his own satisfaction in the physical sense of the word.
A feeling of power hummed from my chest to my core. I could conquer this male if I wanted. Taunt, tease, and crush him. It would serve him right.
But I wasn’t Shalendra.
I turned my attention to my drink.
“You don’t know what you’re missing.” I lifted the cocktail to my mouth and closed my lips around the rim, this time anticipating the pop and fizzle from the candied rim. I tipped the glass back, tasting lemon, lime, and cherry as the cool liquid rushed down my throat. I drank until only a quarter of the beverage remained. Then I set it down on the tray and nodded at it. “In case you decide you want to be more adventurous, I left some for you to taste.”
As the words left my lips, Jhaeros’s eyes became hooded. He wasn’t looking at the drink. He was looking at me. He hadn’t stopped.
A nervous thrill rushed through me.
It was the alcohol, I told myself. I turned my attention to the campaigne board and made my move. I’d already planned it out before Jhaeros left to fetch the drinks.
Jhaeros dragged his eyes away from me, his gaze flicking over the game pieces as though finding they’d gone dull. Despite his air of indifference, he executed a smart play, which made stealing another of his shrubs, six moves later, all the more satisfying.
Jhaeros merely grunted when I snatched his shrub and dumped it in my growing pile of blackwood pieces.
I polished off a glass of rosé wine, eager to show him I could beat him sober, drunk—even blindfolded. The last thought sent a warm wave between my thighs.
“I may have met my match,” Jhaeros said before lifting his second glass of scotch and taking a large swig. He’d stopped sipping and started to really drink two moves ago.
He kept glancing at me. Whereas it had unnerved me before, it emboldened me now. Not only did I want to beat him, I found myself wanting to show off.
“I wish you would tell me your name and where you’re from.” His voice sounded husky. Unfamiliar. Very un-Jhaeros.
I kept my eyes on the board, a feeling of recklessness coming over me. “Perhaps, like you, I am from Pinemist.”
“No,” Jhaeros said, shaking his head. “I would remember you if you lived in Pinemist.”