A Dangerous Gamble

Prologue: Part Two

Present

Okay, all Lucas Sinclaire had to do was get the highest pair of cards near twenty one and he would walk away from The Gambler's Morgue casino with one million-and his life. He was literally one game away from death, or worse...

 The only other seat occupied at this secluded, blue velvet table was taken by the head show girl and dealer-A woman named Chanelle whose skin was a creamy, smooth tan and whose uniform was a tight, dark blue vest with tight, navy blue pants, but her face was oddly cool and at ease as she dealt the cards. The center of the table had only one chip that differed from the others because of its color and symbol. A black, checker-sided, skull imprinted chip that meant everything to the gambler-His life chip.

This beautiful, dangerous woman opposite of him smiles causing a shudder to rattle Lucas' bones. If he blows it, he's dead-Literally. His life wont belong to him, and it will be her property.

 The music suddenly blared loudly into his ears, and its words made him shiver once again while looking to her. Big Spender by Peggy Lee describes this woman's games. With a deep breath, Lucas slides his cards closer to him, away from the central deck and watches as she does the same. Sweat on his hand makes a squeaking sound when he slides his fingers over his hidden cards, and he barely lifts the edges of the cards... Ha!

 "Will you be taking a hit?" Her voice sounds so confident to him, and he let his cards slap back against the table. "Yeah." His heart is hammering, but his answer is short, brief. It's clear to tell that he's analyzing her manner-guessing his odds.

As she slides the top card off the deck slowly, and places it in front of him she says, "Well, let's see who is going to win, Lucas."

 He takes the card and flips it over along with his other cards without a second thought or glance. A sum of twenty. His mouth twitches, until she widens her smile- and her fangs lengthen. "Ah, how I love to get new playthings. Come here, Lucas, I have a use for you."

He didn't notice the song changing, but it did and his heart seemed to convulse from the look of possession on her face. She reaches across the table, knocking the center deck into ruins and grabs ahold of his last chip while she catches his gaze. "Lucas.." Now, she's calling him over like a dog-like some pet. Slowly, he accepts his fate and stands reluctantly. Her smile widens, and she stands to walk by his side. He barely stiffens as Chanelle places a hand in his, towing him to the black leather, locked door of her office just to the side of the bar.

. . . .

 When she closes the door behind him, he cant help but look around in wonder. There is a black, long settee against one wall and the entire floor is covered in an artic white, bear rug. To the other side is a cherry wood, polished table with two curved chairs behind it stands a sleek, dark wood cabinet of sorts, and he stares with his entire focus on her as she walks to the cabinet and reaches in one of its doors for a moment. She shuts it, straightens, and places the clear wine glasses on top of the table.

"Ready for a drink?" He cant help but raise an eyebrow as she looks to him with a quirked smile. He knows this isn't a question- It's a demand. He swallows the lump in his throat, and makes his way to the table. "Where's the wine?"

A shrill, off-pitch laugh comes out of her mouth and she slits her wrist of one glass. "Here's yours." She says, faltering into a serious 'take it now' voice. A look of unbelievable torture passes over his facial features as he quickly picks the glass up. Her wrist heals, but her gaze doesn't look away from his face.

 With a deep breath and another shuddering convulse through his heart, he closes his eyes and chugs the nasty liquid down his throat. The glass slips from his grasp as his throat dries from the inside, and his legs can no longer hold him on his feet. The glass hits the floor with a crash, and his hands go out in front of him to keep him from hitting the floor with his head, but they crumble too, and his head slams into the soft, patted fur of the bear rug. His heart's beat thuds slower and slower, louder and louder, in his ears and his vision blurs.. The last thing he sees are a pair of black heels walking to him slowly.