slept. Then Anjali, asking how she’d slept and including a little smirking devil-horned emoticon.
Oh geez. She’d told Anjali and Piper she wanted to get laid. Anjali’s dragon-man was head of security. Bale had known she was lurking around the slots and had cleared the hall. Torch had sent Bale to retrieve her. Meaning Bale probably knew she’d been hoping to pop her cherry.
She flopped back on the bed with a groan.
It was one thing to be a desperate virgin. It was another thing entirely for her first lover to know she was a desperate virgin.
Of course, that had been obvious.
She grimaced at the ceiling. No wonder he’d been so sweet. The Keep casino king helping the poor little rich girl divest herself of some unwanted assets.
And no wonder he’d fled before the sun came up. After thumping her head on the pillows several times, she texted back with a smiling sun face and nothing else.
Forget giggling with her girlfriends about her conquest when she was such a loser.
Chapter 7
After burying himself in Esme’s winsome, willing body, burying himself back in his cavern was a unique kind of torture.
Bale prowled between the wet limestone columns. Damn it, every slender union of stalactite and stalagmite reminded him of her. Every nub of moonmilk crystal formation was a nipple or a clit. Every glistening surface was the shine of desire on her smooth skin. But instead of the cold, hard stone, Esme Montenegro was soft and warm. Since when had his cave become a hedonist’s fever dream?
“She is my solarys.”
He didn’t realize he had said it aloud until the words whispered back to him, sly and teasing.
Wonderful. Now he was talking to himself. As eccentric as he’d become, he hadn’t sunk that far. Until now.
In a fit of anger, he roared out a breath of dragonfire. An exhalation that once would’ve set a castle ablaze barely reached beyond a few strides. But to his surprise, when the licking flames hit the columns, the gems of his treasures—embedded in the matrix of stone and nearly lost in the geologic tide—flared to life.
Rubies, emeralds, diamonds, and more blazed with the rainbow of light that had once ignited his ichor. As the flames died down, he fell back on his haunches, staring at the glimmering constellation of gemstones.
And in the center of that bright galaxy was a black hole.
Where the heart of his treasure should live.
No. He’d already sworn he wouldn’t claim Esme that way, wouldn’t risk her the way the warlock had used her, for his own ends.
For the first time in a long time, the gleam of the inwardly burning gems didn’t hurt his eyes. Maybe the gaudy shine of the slot machines had been so much worse that, in comparison, the glitter of his hoard seemed almost reasonable and his eyes had adjusted accordingly.
Restlessly, he circled the cavern and ignited the braziers, most of which had sat cold for years. By the time he returned to the dark center, his chest hurt from huffing and puffing, and his mouth tasted of brimstone—not really as unpleasant as it sounded—but the cavern glinted.
He grunted in surprise. Lit and warmed, the cavern seemed less a cave and more a grand hall. Even if he was dying, he’d been wrong to let it fall into such a state. The petralys might be a concrete sludge in his veins, but gold should still glitter.
And kissing a princess should still bring someone to life.
Prowling the edge of the darkened center, he found what he was looking for. Careful not to scratch it, he pried the pearl from the slow drip of stone. He’d promised Esme the pearl if she came back to the cavern.
She hadn’t returned, but she had come for him. So he should keep his word. But as he gently wiped away the flecks of rock, he realized the pearl was too big for any ring. Hell, it was big enough for a chicken to try to hatch it. Why had he remembered it as so much smaller?
He held the pearl to the firelight. It was beautiful, seemingly opaque, but the milky translucent
Oh geez. She’d told Anjali and Piper she wanted to get laid. Anjali’s dragon-man was head of security. Bale had known she was lurking around the slots and had cleared the hall. Torch had sent Bale to retrieve her. Meaning Bale probably knew she’d been hoping to pop her cherry.
She flopped back on the bed with a groan.
It was one thing to be a desperate virgin. It was another thing entirely for her first lover to know she was a desperate virgin.
Of course, that had been obvious.
She grimaced at the ceiling. No wonder he’d been so sweet. The Keep casino king helping the poor little rich girl divest herself of some unwanted assets.
And no wonder he’d fled before the sun came up. After thumping her head on the pillows several times, she texted back with a smiling sun face and nothing else.
Forget giggling with her girlfriends about her conquest when she was such a loser.
Chapter 7
After burying himself in Esme’s winsome, willing body, burying himself back in his cavern was a unique kind of torture.
Bale prowled between the wet limestone columns. Damn it, every slender union of stalactite and stalagmite reminded him of her. Every nub of moonmilk crystal formation was a nipple or a clit. Every glistening surface was the shine of desire on her smooth skin. But instead of the cold, hard stone, Esme Montenegro was soft and warm. Since when had his cave become a hedonist’s fever dream?
“She is my solarys.”
He didn’t realize he had said it aloud until the words whispered back to him, sly and teasing.
Wonderful. Now he was talking to himself. As eccentric as he’d become, he hadn’t sunk that far. Until now.
In a fit of anger, he roared out a breath of dragonfire. An exhalation that once would’ve set a castle ablaze barely reached beyond a few strides. But to his surprise, when the licking flames hit the columns, the gems of his treasures—embedded in the matrix of stone and nearly lost in the geologic tide—flared to life.
Rubies, emeralds, diamonds, and more blazed with the rainbow of light that had once ignited his ichor. As the flames died down, he fell back on his haunches, staring at the glimmering constellation of gemstones.
And in the center of that bright galaxy was a black hole.
Where the heart of his treasure should live.
No. He’d already sworn he wouldn’t claim Esme that way, wouldn’t risk her the way the warlock had used her, for his own ends.
For the first time in a long time, the gleam of the inwardly burning gems didn’t hurt his eyes. Maybe the gaudy shine of the slot machines had been so much worse that, in comparison, the glitter of his hoard seemed almost reasonable and his eyes had adjusted accordingly.
Restlessly, he circled the cavern and ignited the braziers, most of which had sat cold for years. By the time he returned to the dark center, his chest hurt from huffing and puffing, and his mouth tasted of brimstone—not really as unpleasant as it sounded—but the cavern glinted.
He grunted in surprise. Lit and warmed, the cavern seemed less a cave and more a grand hall. Even if he was dying, he’d been wrong to let it fall into such a state. The petralys might be a concrete sludge in his veins, but gold should still glitter.
And kissing a princess should still bring someone to life.
Prowling the edge of the darkened center, he found what he was looking for. Careful not to scratch it, he pried the pearl from the slow drip of stone. He’d promised Esme the pearl if she came back to the cavern.
She hadn’t returned, but she had come for him. So he should keep his word. But as he gently wiped away the flecks of rock, he realized the pearl was too big for any ring. Hell, it was big enough for a chicken to try to hatch it. Why had he remembered it as so much smaller?
He held the pearl to the firelight. It was beautiful, seemingly opaque, but the milky translucent
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