“I was just admiring some of the art.” She gestured to a moody Post-Impressionist painting in front of her, an obvious, but rare Van Gogh. “I’ve never seen such an impressive collection up close like this before.”
This painting, like all the others on the silk-covered walls in the palatial casino, was clearly an original, one that any museum would have kept protected from the public by a thick glass case and yards of velvet ropes.
Not Ebarron. They displayed their spoils out in the open, close enough to touch.
As if they were certain no one would ever dare.
The arrogance was staggering.
Ashayla forced a placid smile. “I would’ve expected priceless pieces like this to be under lock and key somewhere. In the House’s treasure room with the rest of Ebarron’s legendary hoard, maybe.”
It was a desperate fish for information—even a small hint—about the vault she needed to locate. But the Watchman didn’t seem inclined to take her bait.
He approached now, his gait smooth, his body moving with a big cat’s coiled strength. “Isn’t it better that they aren’t hidden away? Out here, everyone can enjoy them.”
Ashayla scoffed softly under her breath. “Or maybe the House of Ebarron just wants everyone else to see what can never be theirs.”
The Incubus’s dark-lashed eyes narrowed. He moved in close to her, standing beside her in front of the painting. His scent invaded her senses—spicy, warm, and utterly male. She felt his scrutiny of her deepen, and she cursed herself for letting the remark slip.
“I’ve never seen you here before, Nephilim.” The weight of his gaze was a physical thing. Probing. Heated. Far too compelling. “You’re American?”
She really didn’t want to have this conversation with him. The last thing she needed was to create a lasting impression on one of Ebarron’s guards, let alone raise questions about herself she had no intention of answering.
“I should get back to the roulette room. My date is waiting for me—”
The Watchman’s shrewd gaze held her. “How long have you known Korda Marakel?”
Ashayla froze. How could he possibly—? Oh, of course, she reasoned in the same instant. Security cameras. The casino was probably equipped with countless eyes in the sky.
One more hurdle she’d have to clear.
“I only met him recently. In Bucharest,” she replied, figuring it was safest to stick to the truth. Or something close to it. She licked her dry lips. “I’m here on vacation and the famous Ebarron casino is something I’ve always wanted to see. Korda offered to show it to me.”
“Is that so?” The Incubus tilted his head, seeming even more intrigued. His penetrating topaz gaze assessed her in a way that made the sensual buzz in her veins vibrate into the very center of her being. “Can I presume that you’ve come here to play, Miss…?”
The way he asked the question, the way he coaxed her to give him her name, put an uninvited, heatedly erotic image in her mind. Tangled sheets and soft moans, his dark gold head buried between her spread thighs.
Holy shit.
Was he doing that to her deliberately, or was it her own imagination running hot and wild?
Ashayla blinked hard. She stepped back, needing the distance.
This man was more than dangerous. She had to get away from him at once and hope he found another woman to distract him while she tried to figure out how to do what she needed to do.
She anxiously licked her lips again, then cleared her throat. “Like I said, I have to go find my…um, Korda. Which way is the roulette room?”
“I’ll take you there.”
“No.” She shook her head, started to take a step away from the Watchman. “You don’t need to do that. I’m sure I can find it on my own.”
His mouth curved into an unfriendly smile. “I insist.”
Given little choice, Ashayla fell in beside him and walked in silence to the gaming room where Korda waited. It didn’t escape her notice that the Watchman snagged the attention of every pair of eyes in the place—female and male alike. The people in the casino stared at him in open curiosity.
In deferential awe.
And suddenly a terrible dread settled over Ashayla.
She’d made a mistake talking to this Incubus, letting him see her in the casino.
“Korda,” he muttered from beside her as she accompanied him to the roulette table. It was more of an accusation than a greeting.
Ashayla’s hired date grinned around her with a smugness she didn’t understand. “Have you come to kick me out on my arse, old friend?”
“No. I have a more interesting idea.” The Watchman who was no Watchman motioned to the croupier. “I’ve decided to play a few rounds.”
“Yes, Master Sorin. Of course.”
Ashayla stood there in stunned silence, not even certain she was breathing.
She felt wooden, torn between contempt and utter defeat, as the Master of Ebarron—her despised nemesis of the past five months—moved into place on the other side of her at the table.
CHAPTER THREE