Bride of the Sea Monster - Eve Langlais Page 0,7
since I started.
“Nope. Story of my life, nothing but bad luck.” I shoved a chunk of chips onto number thirteen black, and she was silent by my side as the little ball bounced and bounced and popped into black thirteen. For a moment, there was a hiccup of elation, then the let down when the ball jostled into the spot beside it with a plink.
“Bummer,” she declared.
“Not when you’re used to it.”
The woman leaned down, the scent of her surrounding me, teasing my senses. “Play number three next.”
Since I’d lose with or without her help, I placed the bet. Her fingers rested on my shoulder, the feel of them noticeable, and—in spite of the alcohol—cock-hardening. Was I so desperate in these final hours that any kind of touch would affect me?
“You won,” she exclaimed, squeezing my shoulder.
That never happened. Yet, with her by my side, it suddenly had. The pile in front of me grew. And then grew some more as the woman who’d introduced herself as Sasha remained by my side, at one point ending up in my lap, telling me what number to bet. We won each time until they finally shut down the table.
“Shall we find another game to play?” she asked, sticking close, even drunker than before.
We both were. The alcohol flowed freely, which might explain why I said, “Let’s go on deck and check out the stars.”
The absolute dorkiest thing a man could say. Yet, she smiled and hugged my arm tighter as we weaved our way to an outer deck. The smell of the ocean filled my senses, making the beast within pulse, but stronger still was the scent of her.
I pushed down the urge. Time enough later to go for a swim. Right now, I wanted to enjoy Sasha’s presence.
Side by side, we stared out at the dark swells that could barely be seen by the lights on the cruise liner.
“What brings you on vacation?” she asked.
“I’m dying.” Not exactly true. By the end of this cruise, though, I’d be something else. Someone who couldn’t stand on a deck flirting with a beautiful woman.
“Oh, that sucks. Makes my escaping a situation back home seem kind of paltry.”
“Depends on the situation.” I turned to face her, noting her dark eyes and her full lips. “What chased you away?”
“A request that I can’t agree to.”
“Do you have a good reason?”
Sasha nodded. “They want something I can’t give.”
“Then I don’t blame you.”
“Why are you dying?” Her gaze settled on me, and in her presence, I felt an ease I’d never felt with a woman before.
“I have an incurable sickness. On my thirty-second birthday, life as I know it will cease.”
“You know the exact date that your life ends? I’m impressed. I tried figuring mine out, but that’s not something I am able to see.”
My expression must have blanked because she laughed.
“I’m a seer of the future. For other people mostly. I rarely get glimpses of mine.”
“Ah, that makes sense.” I nodded. “In my case, it’s not so much seeing the future as knowing the past because it hits everyone in my family at the same time. Thirty-two, without fail.” But it would end with me. I’d not had a child on purpose. How could I condemn them to become a monster? I still resented the father I barely recalled for doing it to me.
A frown creased her brow. “And there’s no cure?”
I shook my head. “I tried finding one. Researched it and swallowed more vile concoctions than you can imagine. But it’s still coming. I can feel it.”
“So, you’re just giving up?”
I rolled my shoulders in a shrug. “There was one option, but it didn’t pan out.” How to explain that my curse was tied to the love of a woman? Not just any woman, but a descendant of the original curser.
“There must be something you can do.” Sasha grabbed hold of my hand. Her brow wrinkled, and she gnawed at her lower lip. “That can’t be right.”
“What do you see?”
Trouble filled her gaze. “Nothing.”
“I told you, there’s no escaping my fate.”
“You can’t give up.”
“It’s too late now.” The conversation had taken a depressing turn. “I don’t suppose a dying man could ask for a kiss?”
She snorted. “Aha. So, there’s the scam. Con the drunk girl with a sob story to cop a feel.”
“It’s not a story, and I’m not trying to con you. I’d just really like to kiss you.” Did she hear the earnest honesty in my words?
Rather than reply, she stepped closer. “Only