IV

R aphael's hand settled on the small of Stella's lower back with gentle authority. The weight of his stare traveled down her spine and back up again as they neared a poker table that had seen better nights.

"I didn't think you were the gambling type."

Stella hummed in reply, busy clocking the occupants of the table even as the weight of his gaze lingered on her profile. Two older vampyrés graced the table in suits too modern for their bushy mustaches and thick rings of silver hugging their irises. The pair mutually glared at the woman seated across from them.

"Call," the woman said.

Raphael and Stella stopped a few feet away to watch the game unfold. Stella met the woman's eye briefly and dipped her chin in subtle acknowledgment. Jasmine was a sort of friend. They drank next to each other in the Styx and the Cellar on countless occasions, sometimes ranting about their troubles until their words slurred into nonsense only vaguely remembered the next night. Other nights they sat next to each other in semi-companionable silence. But outside drinking away their troubles, they didn't much seek each other out for company.

Stella blamed it on Deval.

Jasmine hated him for killing her lover, Hugo, months ago after losing a pit fight to William Gunwyn.

Stella kept her mouth shut on the matter as she viewed the situation with more layers than the black and white Jasmine laved across the memory. Deval hadn't killed Hugo maliciously. He killed him to save William, whom a beaten Hugo had attempted to kill in a rage.

"Looks like you lose, Malakai." Jasmine's hazel eyes glittered with victory.

Stella scanned the table and the three players' revealed dice. The first man showed a two and three die. The second produced a one, a four, and a three. Jasmine, with five dice, proudly smirked as she revealed four fours huddled against a lonely one die.

"That's five fours I count, compared to the four fours you bet would be on the table. Lose another die, Malakai, and hand over what you owe me—double or nothing, remember?"

"I fucking remember," Malakai growled, his preposterous mustache twitching in irritation as he roughly pulled out a billfold from his suit and slapped several bills onto the table.

Using her vampyric speed, Jasmine snatched the money up. Stella blinked in rapid succession. The movement was no more than a blur that left her dazed as Jasmine counted her winnings with sudden austereness. A growl from the table's other end brought Stella's focus back to the men.

"It's all there." Red veins slowly ate away at Malakai's eyes. Stella glanced at the man seated to his left. He wore a similar expression of loathing that put her nerves on high alert. Instinct left her drawing back slightly, but Raphael's hand kept her in place.

"Maybe we should find another place to play," Stella whispered to Raphael. Malakai's ireful gaze flicked to them, freezing Stella's retreat far more easily than Raphael's touch.

"You're short."

The faintest dash of pink colored Malakai's cheekbones as his eyes snapped to Jasmine.

"Bullshit," he snarled.

A sneer pulled at Jasmine's upper lip. "You're short fifty. Pay up."

"I'm not giving you another cent. Everyone knows you're a cheating piece of filth." Malakai bared his fangs in an ugly smirk. "Oh wait, that was Hugo, wasn't it?"

As if scalded, Jasmine's jaw dropped before seizing control of herself and glaring at Malakai with cold contempt. Raphael stepped forward.

"Room for two more?"

The ugly smirk wavered on Malakai's face. Stella fought off the small tremor of fear that threatened as she held Malakai's stare. He was an old vampyré well into his centuries, given how thick the rings of silver were around his pupils. It also meant he was incredibly strong and fast. Even combined, Stella, Raphael, and Jasmine were likely no match for him, especially if his equally old friend got involved.

"What do you say, Otto?"

"Banshees are bad omens, and you, my friend, have already lost a fortune to this harpy over here. No need to add to your load." Malakai pinned Otto with an icy glare. "As for the demon…" Otto eyed Raphael with growing disgust.

The impression of Raphael's fingers dug into Stella's back the more Otto's face transformed to deep-set revulsion. Stella glanced up at him but was surprised to see he wore no disdain or hurt at the vampyrés obvious disdain for him.

"Come, Otto. We've already sullied ourselves enough by deigning to play with the harpy. Let's find a game more suited to our caliber."

Jasmine scoffed and muttered just loud enough for the table to hear, "As if you can afford it."

Stella swore the temperature dropped ten degrees and held her breath. Although the men's anger was directed at Jasmine, she knew they wouldn't bat an eye if Stella or Raphael ended up collateral damage to get to her. Getting caught in the crosshairs was the last thing Stella wanted, but if the byproduct meant some of Raphael's blood would be spilled…

My problem would be solved.

Incendiary excitement shot through her blood as Raphael pushed Stella forward toward an open seat. It took everything in her control to keep her face straight and her heartbeat under control, but she only managed the former. As she took the seat, her mind whirled at what she might say to provoke the vampyrés into action without harming herself.

"She isn't worth it, Otto." Malakai rose from his seat and rested a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You know as well as I—as well as everyone in this court—she won't last the year."

Jasmine didn't react to Malakai's cruel words but tracked the pair as they left and wove through the milling crowd. "Pricks," she uttered once they were gone from sight. Her hazel eyes swirled back to Raphael and Stella. "I hope you came ready to lose because—"

"As it happens, love, we hoped you might act as a witness to a small wager we have going," Raphael said. He commandeered Malakai and Otto's discarded dice and cups, placing one set in front of herself and him. Jasmine leaned back in her seat, pocketing her winnings as she eyed the two.

"I suppose."

"Excellent," Raphael exclaimed then swiftly turned to Stella. She fought the urge to fidget and reminded herself that the bet was her idea.

And it's my best chance to get close to a demon and get their blood now that I've ruined my chance at the Lunar Court.

"Will you be playing with wilds?" Jasmine asked.

Raphael focused on Stella expectantly. "Sure," she drawled, hoping her uncertainty wasn't obvious. By the side glance Raphael and Jasmine shared, she hadn't.

"You've played Liar's Dice, haven't you?" Raphael's lips tipped in amusement.

"I know the basics." Stella swallowed and folded her hands in her lap to stop their writhing. "We take turns bidding until one of us calls and we show our dice." Stella licked her lips as she pressed her memory for the rest of the rules. "If the total on the table guessed is right or over, the person challenged wins the round. If the total on the table is less, the challenger who called wins. Whoever loses, loses a die from their hand. You play until one of you has no dice."

"And new bids can never be lower in value than the last," Raphael reminded.

Stella bit her lip and nodded. "Right."

"You didn't answer my original question."

Raphael's gaze hadn't wavered from her face as she explained her knowledge of the game. Stella felt akin to a cornered animal.

"I have no technical application of the game," Stella admitted in a breathless rush. "But I know the rules, and I understand how wilds work. They work in the bidder's favor."

"Most of the time."

"Most of the time," Stella confirmed.

Jasmine cleared her throat and waited to speak until both Stella and Raphael gave them her full attention. "Ones will be wild. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Raphael said.

Stella nodded, a flutter of nerves rifling through her stomach.

"How do you wish to play? Until only one remains or best of?"

"Best of five rounds," Raphael answered without hesitation. He arched a brow at Stella.

"Agreed."

Jasmine's fingers listlessly drummed against the green velveteen tabletop. "Ones are wild. Five rounds. What are you playing for?"

"Favors."

The smooth rhythm of Jasmine's fingers hesitated momentarily as she eyed the two. Her gaze lingered on Stella. The interest in her expression piqued. "Favors?" A sly smirk curved her berry-painted lips. "How interesting."

"Shall we then?" Raphael scooped his dice into his cup. Stella followed suit, wondering in the back of her mind how it was possible for her heart to be working its way up the back of her throat. The sound of their dice rattling in their respective cups was lost to the din of the other games being played around them. But to Stella, the rattling might as well have been a snake on the table, warning her to turn back now before it was too late.

She didn't. She couldn't afford to lose this second chance.

Their cups landed on the tabletop one after another, dice concealed. Stella peeked at her roll, using her hand and the cup as a shield while Raphael looked at his.

One, one, two, two, one.

Stella committed the numbers to memory and hid her dice from view once more. Three ones meant she had three wilds. Her pulse thudded erratically in her chest.

"Ladies first." When Stella didn't immediately make her bid, Raphael inclined toward her as if to conspire. "You're sure you know how to play?" He cocked his head at her. "It's all well and good to be able to recite the rules, but if you're unsure of how to even place your bid then—"

"I know what I'm doing." A flash of heat warmed her cheeks as she glared at Raphael. He settled back in his seat, hands raised in defense and sporting a lopsided grin.

"Then by all means. Place your bet." Raphael stretched out his legs beneath the table. Stella ground her teeth as his feet knocked lightly into her own. A shine of pure delight entered his eyes as Stella refused to retreat from his passive invasion.

Mentally, she rehashed the betting system. Players bet in two parts, choosing a face value and how many of that value were actually on the table. She exhaled gradually. You can do this. You know the game.

"Two twos."

Raphael smiled. "So, you do know how to play," he purred. "Now let's see how well. Three fours."

Anticipation tightened Stella's gut. "Five fives.

"Four fives."

The urge to lift her cup and check her dice made Stella's palms itch. One, one, two, two, one, she repeated silently to herself. If Stella challenged Raphael and he possessed even a single five die under his cup, she would lose. Her three ones acting as wilds would fill out the total number of four fives on the table.

She needed him to call her, which meant upping the ante. But by how much?

"Well?" Raphael drawled.

"Four—no, five fives." Raphael's eyebrows raised in silent speculation. "Five fives," she reasserted.

Raphael slid his gaze from Stella to her cup, then back again. The calculated look managed to draw another blush to her cheeks. Raphael chuckled.

"Call." He lifted his cup to reveal three sixes, a one, and a five. The color drained from her face as she stared at the five. "Don't be shy," Raphael coaxed. "You're obligated to show your hand—even when you've lost."

Stella swallowed and lifted her cup.

"Round one goes to Stella," Jasmine announced.

"Wait. What?" Stella sat up and checked Raphael's dice again. He pushed forward his five die and next, his one. Of course . Stella's eyes fluttered closed as a tentative smile graced her lips. His wild counts towards the total, just as mine do.

When Stella opened her eyes, they were met with Raphael's intense regard. His chin was bowed a fraction as he observed her through his lashes. Silken strands of dark hair fell across the field of his vision, but Raphael didn't bother to push them back. Stella didn't know what to make of his look, but her victory made her feel… bold .

"Beginner's luck."

There was no mistaking the animal stillness that overtook Raphael at Stella's words. Nor the sudden sharpness of his darkening eyes. Stella barely contained her shock, for she didn't recognize the coy inflection that accompanied her husky voice.

Raphael sat up straighter, his legs tucking back in. "Is that so?" His voice was purposefully steeped in shadows as he locked on her eyes. "Or are you trying to lure me into a false sense of security?"

Stella's first reaction was to protest, but she clamped her teeth on her tongue before the words broke free. Gazes still locked, she tilted up her chin in a move she hoped came across as confident yet aloof, saying nothing.

"I see," Raphael murmured, with a knowing smile. "Shall we up our wager?" He shoveled his dice back into his cup, leaving one out having lost the first round.

Regret and panic slammed into Stella as she glanced at Jasmine. She spared her a droll raise of her eyebrows.

"Up your wager or don't. It doesn't matter to me so long as you keep it moving. No one will come to play so long as you two are here." Jasmine flipped her hair over her shoulder, then shrugged. "No offense."

Stella steeled her nerves as she slid her gaze back to Raphael. "What did you have in mind?"

"Loser leaves the Styx immediately."

"That was already my plan," Stella mumbled under her breath.

"Without their clothes."

Oh Gods . "You're joking? That's ridiculous. Absolutely not."

His knowing smile only grew. The sight of it ate up Stella's insides. "Come now, where'd all that bravado go you had only moments ago?" Raphael casually shook his cup, and then smacked both cup and dice down on the table.

Stella cursed Raphael's English accent and how it melded smooth sophistication with temptation together effortlessly. Then she cursed herself for the slight quaver that stole through her voice as she foolishly agreed to his bargain.

"You need to re-roll, Stella," Jasmine instructed.

With haste, she scooped her dice into her cup and shook them up. Cup and all landed on the velveteen surface with a dull thump.

"Last one to lose bids first," Stella said.

Raphael chuckled even as he nodded along in compliance. "Someone's feisty," he commented, catching Stella's eyes as he combed back his hair. His cool congruence unsettled Stella, but not more than his bid. "Three sixes."

"Three sixes?" Stella parroted back.

"Three sixes. Will you call or challenge?"

Stella's mind rushed to weigh her options as she examined her dice. Four, four, six, one, three. She possessed two of the three sixes he needed to win the round, meaning he only needed one six himself to win if she challenged him. Stella swallowed as she eyed him.

She couldn't tell if he was bluffing, and she'd never been great with math. What's the probability he rolled at least one six? At least half, right? Less?

Raphael cleared his throat.

"Four sixes." Stella's lips glued shut into a thin line the moment the bid was out of her mouth.

"Call."

Stella's heart sank as Raphael revealed his hand: five, three, four, one. If she had challenged his last bid, she would have won.

"Raphael wins. You're tied, one-to-one."

Stella snatched up four dice and tossed them into her cup. After a single decisive shake, she planted them on the table. "Again."

"As my lady commands."

Stella allowed herself to scowl at him briefly, before vowing to keep her reactions in better check. She'd given herself away completely last round.

But she wouldn't make that mistake again.

You can do this. A rarely heard optimistic voice chimed in Stella's head. You've had to hold your composure through way worse than this! While the thought was heartening, it was also a swift reminder of what was at stake. It wasn't just Irina's future on the line, but Stella's.

She couldn't bear the thought of contracting with another household that wasn't the Vranas. It had nearly destroyed her mentally to work for the Delacroix. Physically, too, if she were to count the blackouts, sleepwalking, and sometimes hallucinations that were the results of her drinking rhodiola to dull the toll on her conscience. Stella's stomach twisted.

There'd been no darker period in her life.

She wouldn't risk going back to it with another diabolical household. One that would treat her as a commodity and tool for their cruel amusement, and not a person.

She had to win.

Stella peeked at her roll. Five, two, four, six. "Three fours."

"One five."

"Two sixes."

Raphael narrowed his eyes. "Three sixes."

It was déjà vu, but this time around Stella's nerves weren't so easily rattled. "Call."

They revealed. Stella watched Raphael's jaw twitch. It was his only sign of displeasure as he scooped up his losing roll— three, six, three, five —now minus a die.

"That's two rounds to Stella and one to Raphael. Stella, you can win it all on this next round." Jasmine winked at Stella, an almost imperceptible upward tilt to her mouth.

Stella took a deep breath through her nose and exhaled through her mouth as she scooped up her dice and shook them. Raphael didn't waste a moment once her dice and cup were back on the table.

"Two twos," Raphael said. Stella peeked at her dice. Two, two, one, one . Her heartbeat ramped up, but she kept her face blank of emotion.

"Four twos," she countered.

Without missing a beat, Raphael said, "Six twos."

Stella's mouth dropped open despite herself. "Six twos, really? Did you even look at your roll?" She was nearly positive he hadn't.

Raphael shrugged, mirroring her carefully blank facade. "Your move."

Before she could, a sharp cry rang out through the crowd. Stella's head whipped in its direction, eyes landing on a woman throwing herself into a man's arms and kissing him. Glasses raised in celebration as the man dipped the woman. A faint trace of longing tugged at Stella's heart. She knocked it away as Raphael cleared his throat.

"I—" Stella glanced at the cup which concealed his dice. If he really hadn't checked his dice that meant he was betting blind. "Did you look at your dice or not?"

"I did… not," he copped with a roguish grin.

"Well, aren't you going to?"

"Why should I? So you might garner something from my reaction?"

Stella scoffed, but a new wave of heat infused her cheeks. "It seems like a poor strategy."

"If it's so poor, then why bring it up? Let me play out my strategy and you play out yours. Now, are you going to call or not?"

"Call."

"Ladies first." Raphael gestured to her cup and leaned forward slightly. Stella complied reluctantly. Removing her cup, the faces of the dice stared back at her with judgment. Two ones, and two twos .

Stella rolled her shoulders back. "Now you."

Raphael lifted his dice cup. It took all of her willpower not to slump back in her seat as her stomach and heart plummeted to her feet.

Two, two, four.

"Last round," Jasmine drawled.

There was no time to belittle herself. No seconds left to assess where she went wrong. If she dwelled, it would guarantee her failure. Stella swallowed as she expelled another die from her collection. They each stood at three dice a piece.

While numbers and probability played a strong factor in bidding, Liar's Dice, at its heart, was a game of chicken. Who could make the other bow out first?

"You go—"

"I know," Stella interrupted. She scooped her three dice into her cup and gave it a hearty shake, like the bartenders at the Styx would a specialty cocktail. The moment the cup and dice landed on the table; she stole a look at her lot.

Five, two, five.

"One two," Stella bid.

Raphael wore an expression that was a cross between skeptical and amused at her low start. "One… five."

"Two fives."

"Three fives," Raphael volleyed.

Stella crossed her legs, her toes curling since she didn't dare let her nerves play out in fidgeting fingers. Raphael's gaze followed the move. First, in only a glance, then back again as her dress settled higher on her thigh in its new position. "Two sixes."

Raphael's attention snapped back to hers. The intensity of his stare brought the hairs on the back of her neck to a stand. He hadn't looked at his roll yet, but she wondered if he would.

As the seconds ticked by, a strange calm draped over Stella. Raphael's stillness didn't portray the energy of confidence of his earlier play. In fact, if Stella had to guess, she'd say he was regretting not looking at his roll. The subtle fading of color from his cheeks and the strict line of his shoulders imparted the impression.

Stella let her head tip to the side. "Your turn." The corner of her lip twitched unbidden.

The square cut of his jaw came into sharp relief as he twisted to examine the contents of his cup. Deftly, he peered underneath, his jaw clenching as he made the move. By the time he finished, his shoulders had relaxed but the slight flush to his cheeks remained absent. Their eyes met as he tugged casually at the lapels of his suit jacket.

"Three sixes," Raphael bid.

Stella's heartbeat sounded everywhere at once. In her gut. In her throat. Pounding against her eardrums and drowning out the noise of the gambling hall. What are the chances that Raphael has three sixes?

"Well?" Raphael drawled. His gaze had gone heavy-lidded, but it lacked the spark of his signature irreverent charm. Stella swallowed. She knew she could maintain her composure if she raised the bid, but the longer she stared into Raphael's eyes, the more the path read like a fool's errand. "Stella?"

The way he dragged out her name awoke embers of desire she was helpless to deny.

Stupid English accent. Stupid handsome demon.

"I call."

Raphael's carefully composed expression at once fell flat. With a flick of his wrist, he knocked over his cup revealing his dice. "Two sixes and a four."

Stella calmly lifted her cup and set it aside. "Two fives and a two." She tipped up her chin as Raphael's brow furrowed and mouth twisted.

"Stella wins," Jasmine announced. "By the terms of your bet, you owe her one favor." A sly smile spread itself across her lacquered lips. "You also have the distinct honor of walking out of here naked as the day you were born."

"I underestimated you." Raphael stood and smoothed away any evidence of his disgruntlement with a smirk that promised dark and devilish things. Stella's breath caught in her throat. "I won't again," he promised.

Before Stella fully absorbed the whisper of threat underlying his words, Raphael was shrugging off his jacket. Her eyes widened watching his fingers pluck open the buttons of his shirt and untuck it. He moved with a confidence and assurance that left her speechless.

She stole a look at his face. Raphael surveyed the crowd with a predator's grace.

"Enjoying the show?" Raphael inquired, his brown eyes catching her stare.

A noise left her throat, though Stella couldn't quite distinguish what it was meant to imply. Disdain or discomfort.

"I expect to call in my favor by night's end," Stella informed him with false bravado. That would give her more than enough time to make a real plan.

Raphael's eyebrows hiked upward. "What's the rush?" There was no break in his movement as he removed his shirt and draped it over his chair's back. His hands dropped to his buckle.

Stella wasn't clueless to the attention Raphael's stripping brought upon them. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw several courtiers openly watch.

"Well?" he dug.

"There's no rush—" Stella stopped herself short and took a breath, fighting off the fluster that was crowding in on her from all sides. "I just won't be kept waiting." She tried to inflict as much standoffishness in her tone as possible, but Raphael's slow smirk told her he wasn't buying it.

"Very interesting." Raphael unfastened his pants, pausing as he drew his brows together thoughtfully. "I never would have taken you for a woman who likes to move fast. You come off as more of someone who'd like rose petals thrown on the bed and have their lover whisper sweet nothings into their ear."

A blush tore over Stella's entire body as she stood in a jerky movement. Raphael's answering smirk dashed away any inclination of momentary desire she'd felt for him.

"I'll give you two nights," Stella said in a low voice and stepped toward him. "And if you don't own up to your side of the bet, I have friends in high places who would love nothing more than to curse your dick into oblivion."

Raphael put up his hands, palms facing forward in supplication. The piteous attempt at surrender meant his pants hiked down an inch. Stella glanced at its southward descent, noting instantly he wore nothing underneath. When their eyes met again, his smirk was nowhere to be found but his eyes smoldered with heat, nonetheless.

"I'll see you in two nights, love."