Page 1 of Dice & Dekes

Prologue

Viktor

“Take a shot if you’ve ever licked Astroturf to see what it tastes like,” Knova slurs, her grin all teeth and mischief.

Knight groans and drops his head into his hands. “That was one time.”

“Take a shot,” she singsongs.

“I was four!”

“Take. A. Shot.”

“Fucking fine.” He slams back the whiskey, coughs like he’s dying, and flips her off while she cackles like a drunk little demon.

Welcome to a Venom kickoff party. Sponsored by our questionable life choices and an open bar.

I should be watching the room. You know, doing my job—making nice with sponsors, looking good for the cameras, pretending I don’t want to bend my best friend’s twin sister over this linen-covered banquet table and wreck her soul.

But Knova Hale’s dress has other plans.

Every time she leans forward, another inch of cleavage says hello. And I try—I swear to God I try—not to look. But her tits are hypnotic. Full, natural, bouncy—exactly the way I remember from the day I turned fourteen and stopped seeing her as just Knight’s sister.

Not that I ever noticed Knova Hale.

Not back then.

Not now.

Definitely not every goddamn day.

At least, that’s the story I tell myself. She doesn’t let me get close enough to tell her otherwise.

Knight’s still hacking up his dignity while Knova cackles like the hottest tequila fairy of chaos I’ve ever seen, and I lean back in my chair, grinning like an idiot.

This is how Venom kickoff parties go—sloppy, loud, and usually one bad decision away from viral.

The Mona Lisa’s grand ballroom looks fancy as hell, all chandeliers and million-dollar donors, but let’s be honest—it’s just a glorified drink-fest once the old folks clear out. Our parents usually linger too long, mine especially, but it’s late now. The silver foxes have made their exits, and the bar is officially open for bad choices.

Which brings us to now: me, Knight, Sofia, and Knova playing a drinking game like we’re not professional athletes with brand deals and image consultants.

The team’s not exactly crushing it on the ice, but we’ve been improving—mostly because I finally got my ass in the lineup. You’re welcome, Vegas.

Knight’s fiancée, Sofia, glances at me. Our eyes meet, and we both smirk. We’re not exactly friends, even though the four of us grew up together. It’spossiblethat Imayhave been atiny bit of a dickto her when we were kids. Just a little. Not that I would ever admit it while sober.

At this point, though, my bloodstream is approximately fifty percent tequila, so who gives a shit? Either way, we’re all friends now.

Look at us, having fun.

Look at Knova, being the sexiest fucking woman in the room, with her wavy black hair that dusts a waist I can span with my hands, her body sculpted by her years in the military flying medivac helicopters, her curves that won’t quit, and wearing that dress that makes her look like a sex goddess in the flesh.

Look at me, too much of a coward to tell her how badly I want her. How badly I’vealwayswanted her.

Ugh. On second thought, I need more tequila.

I reach for my glass, fully intending to slam it back and retrieve another from the bar, when Knight turns toward me. He’s three sheets to the wind, judging by the flush in his cheeks and the brightness of his eyes. Still holding his empty glass, he points at me. “Take a shot if you’ve ever ended up in the ER—”

My stomach lurches. There’s more to that sentence, but if he utters it aloud, I will be forced to kill him. It’s a matter of honor. I don’t make the rules.

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