Desire. Cindy Jacks

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СКАЧАТЬ or head nod. “Nice to meet all of you as well.”

      “We do this game a few times a year. We start in Miami, cruise around Florida and the Gulf, picking up players. Once we’re in international waters, we can do what we like, right?” Santos gave a savage laugh. “You enjoy yourself this time, maybe you come back next time, ey?”

      “I might just do that,” said Bacchus.

      “’Ta bien. All right, enough talk. Let’s play some cards, muchachos.”

      Bacchus laid paper currency bearing the image of some mortal named Ben Franklin on the table. “Is this enough to get started?”

      “Put your cash away, Mr. Sabazios. Simone mentioned you are good for a lot more.” Santos nodded to the dealer.

      The dealer gave Bacchus twenty-five grand in chips. The table buy-in was a hundred dollars, which didn’t seem like a lot, but what did he know about money? He’d had the hardest time figuring out monetary denominations. A fifty looked so much like a five except for the little circle at the end of the number. Who had time for such details?

      Speaking of details, Bacchus peered at his cards and the flop or the river or whatever in Hades the features of this game were called. Not like a simple game of Tabula or Knucklebones. Eager to learn, he bet with abandon. His first defeat cost him fifteen hundred dollars.

      The second hand he lost because he was more interested in wolfing down the pork sandwich his dark beauty had brought him than keeping his head in the game. “What is this delicious wine?”

      She presented the label to him. Bacchus ordered two more bottles.

      When she brought his drink order, he took her hand and asked her name. The meanest-looking of Santos’s thugs bristled and glared at Bacchus, but Santos waved off the man’s annoyance.

      “Ariana,” she replied.

      Ariana. Her name washed over him, a gentle wave cooling hot sands. “Lovely to meet you, Ariana.”

      She nodded and disappeared behind the galley door.

      By the last hand of the night, Bacchus was nearly a hundred grand in the hole. Not that it mattered to him in the slightest. Every time Ariana entered the room, all he could think of were dandelions and buttercups, her red lips puckered, white fluffy seedpods spinning in the wind, and yellow flowers braided in her hair.

      While most of his godly powers were lost to him, he could still read the aura and memories written on the human soul. Perhaps his retained skill had been an oversight on the Mother and Father’s part, but Bacchus doubted this was so. He suspected they’d allowed him this gift as protection in the unfamiliar world he inhabited. Humanity could be surprisingly deceptive and cruel. At times, more evil than Lucifer himself.

      For instance, the stocky thug in the far corner had taken a special dislike to Bacchus. He had a gaping hole where his spirit should be, yawning like an open grave, sucking light and happiness from auras around him. Sure, he was handsome—chiseled jaw, stylish black waves, striking emerald eyes. No doubt, the man had begun as an innocent baby boy, but life had decayed him. A legacy of pain had stolen the man’s soul, twisted him into something grotesque. No amount of physical beauty could cloak it.

      The last hand ended as the first had, in disaster. A small price to pay for the pleasure of her company.

      As though the aged man had read Bacchus’s mind, Santos said, “It seems lady luck was not with you tonight, muchacho. I’ve never seen a man so happily lose this large a sum of money.”

      Bacchus drained the last of his wine. “Good drink, good company. It makes the loss more bearable, don’t you think?”

      “Sí, I do. Maybe you could use a little more company tonight? Maybe in your private quarters to help ease the pain of your loss?”

      “I’m always up for some private amusement.”

      For the umpteenth time, the shortest henchman set his jaw, eyes narrowed, hands clenched in fists. Nonetheless, no objections spilled from his thin, tight lips.

      “What do you say, mi’ja?” Santos asked Ariana. “Does Mr. Sabazios deserve some tender, loving care?”

      “Yes, sir. Of course.”

      How wonderful, the night had not been a complete wash after all. Excitement rippled through his abdomen, and Bacchus tried to catch the woman’s eye.

      She focused on clearing away the men’s glasses.

      One by one, the poker players dispersed. Santos headed to his stateroom with a lovely lady on each arm. Bacchus lingered. Pouring himself a drink from the rum left on the card table, he waited for his dark beauty to emerge from the galley again, but she didn’t. The only person he saw on the way back to his berth was the man with the void inside. Arms crossed, the minion stood immobile in the second deck passageway. Bacchus flipped the man a friendly wave. The soulless one didn’t return the greeting.

      Chapter 4

      Once Was Blind

      Had Bacchus not been listening for it, he might not have heard the timid knock. Running his fingers through his hair, he checked his reflection before he opened the door. Perfection, as usual. He opened the cabin door.

      Ariana wavered in the doorway. Her once radiant skin bore a pale green tinge. Her eyes glistened with vacant glassiness.

      “Are you all right, love?” He took her hand and escorted her inside.

      “I’m fine.” She shrugged. “Why?”

      “No reason.” He settled her into a barrel back chair. “Would you like a cocktail?”

      “Sure.”

      He skittered over to the wet bar and selected a lead crystal tumbler.

      “No need to dirty a glass.” She bounded up behind him, plucked the rum bottle from his hand, and took a swig.

      Ah, a woman after his own heart. He gathered Ariana in his arms and swept her hair from her face. His next move would’ve been a sensual kiss followed by long, meandering caresses, but her lifeless eyes stopped him cold.

      Though her body showed no resistance, no attraction burned in her gaze. Bacchus had never been in such a situation before, but it seemed possible she wasn’t there of her own accord. Oh no. That wouldn’t do. He released her.

      She stumbled to the bed and took another drink. “Come on. Let’s get to it.”

      The heat in his loins and torso vanished. Tickles in the pit of his stomach ebbed. Bacchus sat down next to her and took her hand in his. “As appealing as that offer is, why don’t we forgo this charade? You don’t have to do this, love.”

      Frowning, she shook her head and swallowed another mouthful of rum. “But really I do.” Bottle raised to her lips, she started to take another drink.

      Though it went against every instinct in his body, Bacchus took the bottle and set it aside. “Please, stop. Let’s give the rum a break for a while.”

      She СКАЧАТЬ