Page 92 of Queen of Diamonds

I took a breath, glancing down at the silk that clung to my skin.

“Don’t answer before you see,” he said quietly.

He reminded me of my own father sometimes, who looked down on others with such disdain he felt the need to correct them before anything had even happened.

I followed his glance back to the mirror, then took one small step backward, knowing what he was asking for. I balled my fists to keep myself steady as I turned my back on him and showed my scars. The woman in the mirror blurred.

Don’t cry.

I gritted my teeth as his scent rose in the air, controlled, but thick, redwood and rose sharp with every breath I took.

“Stay.”

He got to his feet, approaching me so he could see in the mirror, too. My skin prickled with disgust as he took a closer look, and I finally got a hold of my tears.

“When is your next heat?” he asked, close enough for his breath to brush my temple.

I dropped my eyes, calculating my options. Risk a lie? Was he testing me? Was it something else he knew?

He knew about the High Roller.

“Within the month.”

“How have you been managing them?” he asked, and there was something dangerous in his gaze.

I was suddenly grateful for my refusal of Travis’ offer to become more than a bartender at the High Roller. The look in Ace’s eyes told me that those clients would be vanishing from the streets.

“Drugs.”

“Three years?” Ace asked, peering down at me curiously. “Three, since you’ve had a true heat?”

“I’ve never had a true heat,” I whispered, glad my voice was steady, even if it was thick.

He smiled. “What do you think, Omega? Will you finally choose me over those scars?”

He used touch just as carefully as words, leaving it with a weight designed to frighten. I’d never seen him use touch for anything else.

He’d told me once that he thought his touch was worth too much to be offered easily. I believed he believed that.

I suddenly regretted not going on that date Leisha had set up and not letting someone in—anyone—just once. So the ghost of him wasn’t the only memory joining the brush of his knuckle along the scars of my back.

The fact remained, I’d never felt Ace’s touch without something terrible following.

So it was hard not to shiver as his bright blue eyes held mine, and his other hand wrapped around me, holding my chin steady as his palm flattened against my back and he dipped his chin lower, jaw brushing my hair line.

Rose and redwood seeped into the air and I couldn’t fight the choked sob in my chest as he scent marked me.

I’m not his.

I’m not his.

His eyes glinted with delight as he got a reaction out of me.

“Do you like it?” he asked, firmer this time, like he wanted to know what I would say if forced.

I swallowed, finally seeing the woman before me. Truly. In floral red silk, held like a trophy by an Alpha who thought he owned me.

I’m not his.

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