Free Devil’s Kiss by Zoe Archer

gorgio blue blood, whose brains had been systematically bred out of him. She furtively glanced up at his face. His brows were drawn down, the line of his mouth firm, his blue eyes clear and sharp. He concentrated, giving his full attention to the task of mastering the cards. Nothing so arousing as a handsome man immersed in complex thought.
    Within a few minutes, Whit shuffled and dealt with an expert’s touch. His movements were as swift as her own. Had she not known what trick he used with the cards, she would never have realized he cheated.
    “An adept student,” she said.
    She did not realize she had spoken aloud until his eyes gleamed with pleasure at her compliment.
    “A skillful teacher,” he murmured.
    Their gazes connected, held. She felt herself drawn closer, pulled toward him by a force greater than her sizeable will.
    She almost forgot. Forgot that she was here against her will. She could not rely on him.
    Zora glanced away, breaking the connection.
    “You have what you wanted,” she said.
    “Do I?” His question was casual, yet want pulsed beneath.
    Her jaw tightened. “My secrets at cards. I’ve given them to you.”
    “Is that all of them?”
    “Yes. And I can’t lie to you, so you know I speak the truth.” She tipped her chin up. “When it comes to card games, I have shown you everything I know.”
    “Not everything.” He was an unyielding presence without even touching her. “There are still your secrets to telling fortunes with cards.”
    She turned back to him. “A nobleman and gambler hasn’t a need to dukker . You didn’t even want your fortune told at the camp.”
    He gave a shrug that only seemed indolent. Strength and potential simmered beneath the careless movement. “Now I want to know how.”
    “Let me go,” she whispered. “Back to my people. Back to my life.” Her eyes grew hot and damp as she stared up at him. To keep herself from placing a pleading hand upon his arm, she twisted her fingers in her skirts. “My family will be worried about me.”
    Another flare of shadowed regret in his gaze. He looked at her then, truly looked at her, and she willed herself still to return his look. Lifetimes passed, or mere seconds. A war was being fought behind the crystal blue of his eyes, where his desires and his principles battled against one another. She prayed that he was not so far gone, that the muscles of his conscience had not withered after probable years of disuse, that he had the strength to fight the Devil within.
    His hand drifted up to his coat, finding the spot where a button had once been. The coat was fine, well-maintained. It seemed strange that a button would come loose and fall from it. But its absence seemed to strike a note in him, reminding him of something.
    “No.” It was he, this time, who turned away. “There are secrets you possess I still want.”
    Zora shivered, cold. Daylight had nearly broken, and violet shapes emerged outside, revealing themselves to be trimmed hedges of a walled garden, and beyond the wall, the forms of other imposing, heavy gorgio homes. The quiet of night slowly retreated. Someone was in the mews between houses, singing as he went about his work. Servants were awakening and making everything ready for their slumbering masters. From the growing sounds of many voices, many carts and carriages in the lane, the multitude of chimneys rising up against the dawn sky, Zora realized she was in London. Not the part of London she knew, not Smith-field for the St. Bartholomew’s Fair, not Tyburn to ply the crowds watching the hangings. This was wealthy London—a London she had never known. His home. Over which the sun struggled to rise and break from the thick haze of smoke and soot.
    “I want to leave,” she pressed.
    “Perhaps tomorrow. Or the day after that. I have yet to decide.” His expression shifted, darkened. A mask sliding into place, obscuring who he once had been. He took her measure again, slowly and thoroughly. A