Page 85 of The Prince of Demons

I held out a chalice. “Care for a drink?”

Reaper paused, eyes widened.

Why ask him on a date when I could bring the date to him? I silenced the voice in my head that told me how awkward this was. Setting the candles, the fae lights, and the table in advance made the date guaranteed to happen. This way, he could never reject me. And my fragile little heart could remain intact for a while longer.

His gaze lingered on the alcohol. “Are you drunk?”

I might as well be. The intensity of his gaze made me want to drown in liquor.

“Stone cold sober.” I waved the drink at him. “Come sit down and play with me.” I gestured to the playing cards I set on the table.

He pulled a chair out slowly. Sat. Took the drink from me and downed it. The muscles in his neck flexed, capturing my attention. Noticing my blatant stare, he dragged the bottle away. “You’ve had enough.”

My cheeks flushed. Well, that was rude. Especially because it was inaccurate.

He flicked his wrist behind him. The ghost disappeared.

This wasn’t going well. My mind raced, searching for a way to capture his attention.

“I made a deal with Gaksi.”

He raised his eyebrows.

My hands flexed uncomfortably under the table. I swallowed hard and continued. “I made a deal with Gaksi. Just one date, and he would stop hounding me about dating for the rest of the year.”

“So…” I released a breath. “Please stay. For Gaksi.” Not for me. Never for me. Despite the pit of my stomach screaming, begging for him to stay. He was like a puzzle, and I wanted to put him together, handling every part of him until he was complete.

A smile lit up his face. His eyes twinkled as if my discomfort amused him.

“Very well, sweet seraphim.” He returned the soju I set out and poured it into my glass first, then into his own.

“I thought I’d had enough?” I asked.

“You’ve never had enough of me, have you?” He chuckled. “Why would alcohol be any different?”

With no suitable response to that, I took my first sip. It burned, in a good way. Like a wound that pushed you forward in its agony.

He fingered the cards. “Let’s play, then.”

Reaper shuffled the cards, used magic to suspend them midair, then whipped them around themselves in a frenzy.

“Show off,” I teased. He winked.

His shadows reached out, tenderly, cautiously, dealing me my cards.

“Stakes?” Reaper asked.

“Secrets,” I replied. “What else?”

Cordelia would be disappointed it wasn’t clothes. She would survive.

“Deal,” Reaper responded. “Do you know how to play blackjack?”

That was specific. I’d studied the rules of poker before this, assuming that was what he’d want to play. Poker just seemed like a demonic game to me.

“Yes,” I responded. Gaksi taught me all kinds of card games as a kid. For counting practice. Whoever got closer to 21 wins.

It was a game of push and pull. Push too hard, and you got a high final tally and lost. Pull back too far, and you didn’t have nearly enough.

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