Blood Sport

[Oriena]

Her grin flashed hot, but the amusement seemed genuine. Something lit her from the inside tonight, an intention or anticipation that was obviously the cause of the dark glitter in her eye. "And yet here you are, still playing my game,"
she remarked huskily. A game he had absolutely no hope of winning, though that didn't mean he would not find her manipulations to his advantage. He'd already warned her against toying with him, and it was precisely why she did it. It pleased her, of course; Ori cultivated obsession, grew shamelessly bored with anything less. Passion, lust, hate; she fed off the unbalanced extremity.

"Fortunes are won and lost here."
The Almaz's minimum-bet threshold was shockingly high to the outside eye, but not so much when one scrutinised the patronage. Cold hard cash had never been much motivation for Ori, just a necessary accessory to facilitate her other ambitions. Among other business ventures, she'd wrung the Almaz thoroughly when it suited her, but monetary fortune wasn't a flicker on her radar tonight.

Her gaze slid back over one Marcus DueBois, a conscious acknowledgement of his attention. She wondered if Brandon knew where his protégé spent his sins. Or perhaps if he cared. The inspection was languid before her attention returned to her companion. "How much would you gamble, to ensure you won?"