Page 31 of Ren: Warlord Brides
“You must understand. We’re civilized on Sangrin. We do not play games with lives for the sport of it,” Pashaal said. The female laughed, empty and shallow, in a ploy to lighten the mood.
All eyes at the table turned to Ren, waiting for his reaction, waiting for theuncivilizedMahdfel to go on a rampage. His tail twitched in irritation.
Let them think what they like.He only cared for Emmarae’s opinion.
“But you do play games?” he asked.
“Well, one must be entertained. Oh, don’t scowl.”
“I am not scowling. This is my face.”
Pashaal took a cream-covered berry from her plate and popped it into her mouth. She closed her eyes with the pleasure of it. “I have a brilliant idea. It is sure to make you smile, warrior.”
He doubted that. The longer this farce continued, the likelihood that Ren would abscond with Emmarae tossed over his shoulder increased.
The warlord would be displeased. Ren’s position in the clan would be threatened. Perhaps he would be expelled. This did not concern him. He had been without a clan for nearly two years, and he fared well enough. TheJudgment’sclan offered protection for his mate and certain comforts, but they were unnecessary.
“We’ll play for Emmarae’s contract!” Pashaal clapped her hands like it was a grand idea and not an insult to treat his mate like a toy for her amusement.
Emmarae entered the room, carrying a new round of beverages.
“Very well,” he said.
“Cards? I assume you know how to play Stones and Gems?”
It was a common enough game, usually reserved for juveniles. “I am familiar,” he said.
“My, so serious. I am familiar,” the overly decorated male said, his voice mocking. “Pashaal, deal me in.”
“No. This is between myself and the female,” Ren said.
The sound of clattering drinkware snagged his attention. The pitcher Emmarae held had knocked over Dovak’s glass.
“You clumsy female!” Dovak pushed back from the table, his robe soaked. His mate hastily mopped up the mess. He snatched the cloth from her. “Give me that,” he snarled.
“Do not speak to my mate in that tone,” Ren said.
Emmarae gave him a faint smile as she refilled beverages around the room.
“We need a third. It’s impossible to play the game with two people,” Pashaal said, already clearing space on the table.
“That’s right. You can’t play without me.” The male grinned, thinking himself particularly clever.
“Tell me your name,” Ren said.
“Why? Because I’m so intriguing?”
“Yes, that is why. Certainly not because I need to send condolences to your family due to your impending injuries.”
The smirk slowly faded from the male’s face as he processed Ren’s words.
“Dovak,” he said.
With practiced skill, Pashaal dealt the cards.
The game was simple enough. Match suits of gems and stones. Gems were more valuable than stones, but stones were more plentiful. A person could play cautiously, collect stones, and ultimately win from the sheer number of stones. Or a person could play for gems, hoping numbers and probability would favor them.
Ren had a blue gem and a green gem. A matching pair for either would be a nearly unbeatable hand. His mate stood behind his chair, her hands gripping the back. Awareness of her presence pricked along the back of his neck. His tail flexed and curled.
