The fury on Luke's face vanishes, replaced by an expression of intense, predatory interest. His eyes, dark as pits, scan Lily from head to toe, a slow, calculating smile spreading across his lips. It's the look of a master chess player who has just been offered a queen in exchange for a pawn. "Your soul?" he repeats, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "Now that… that is a prize worth winning. Very well. I accept. On one condition."
Lily places a hand on her hip, her posture defiant. "And that is?"
"I set the terms of the game," Luke declares, his aura swelling, pressing down on me like a physical weight. "I will host a tournament. A grand spectacle of chance and skill. The grand prize will be this farmboy's pathetic little patch of dirt and everything he lost tonight. But he won't get it by just beating me. He must fight his way through my champions, one by one, to earn the right to face me in the final battle. I will be the last player. The final boss, as it were."
My stomach clenches. A tournament. I know the game he's talking about, Fortune's Claim. Every peasant with a copper to his name knows the basics. It's a game of war, not just luck. You build an army of twenty-five cards and battle across three fronts. Strength versus strength. The thought of facing one of Luke's hand-picked champions, let alone a whole gauntlet of them, makes my blood run cold. The stakes, already impossibly high, have just been stacked into the stratosphere.
"The tournament will begin in one week's time," Luke adds, his gaze fixed on Lily. "Give the farmboy time to wallow in his despair, and time for you to dress for the occasion of your own damnation." He lets out a short, sharp bark of laughter. "You're a fool, goddess. A sentimental, arrogant fool. You've just handed me your own head on a silver platter. Very well. Be prepared to become my newest plaything." He turns and sweeps out of the gambling den, his entourage of giggling whores trailing in his wake like the tail of a comet.
The moment he's gone, I round on Lily, my voice a choked whisper of disbelief and fury. "Are you insane?" I hiss. "A week? A tournament? He's going to destroy us! He's going to own you!"
Lily turns to me, her expression unreadable for a moment, then it softens. She reaches out and gently cups my cheek, her touch again sending that calming warmth through me. "Do not worry, my horny idiot," she says, her voice returning to that teasing, affectionate tone. "Luke thinks he's set a trap, but he's just given us the perfect battlefield. He has his champions, and now… so will we." She leans in close, her lips brushing against my ear. "By the time we're done with you, Ned, you will be the king of cards."
As if on cue, a deck of cards materializes on the bar in front of me with a soft poof of displaced air. It's a presumptive gift from our host, a starting hand for the tournament. It looks shabby, the cards worn and dog-eared. I pick up the top one. It depicts a scrawny, miserable-looking farmer with a strength value of 2. I flip through the rest. A scrawny farmhand, a starving mercenary, a worn plowhorse. It's a collection of losers, of pathetic, desperate creatures. It's a deck made of scraps and failure, a cruel joke to send me into the tournament with.
"This is garbage," I say, my voice flat with despair. "I can't win with this. It's a deck made for losing."
Lily peers over my shoulder at the cards, then wrinkles her nose. "You're right. It's a terrible start. But that's easily fixed." She grins at me, a wicked, brilliant grin. "We just need to acquire some new assets."
She snaps her fingers.
The air beside her shimmers, and then another woman forms as if from mist and moonlight. She is, impossibly, just as hot as Lily, but in a completely different way. Where Lily is dark and mysterious, this woman is blonde and radiant. Her hair is a cascade of spun gold that falls to her waist, and her eyes are the color of a summer sky. She's wearing even less than Lily, just a few scraps of white silk that do absolutely nothing to conceal her flawless, bronzed skin or the perfectly rounded globes of her ass. Her body is lush and voluptuous, built for sin and pleasure, and an aura of pure, unadulterated lust rolls off her in waves, so potent it makes my already-stressed cock twitch with renewed interest.
The new woman looks at me, a slow, hungry smile spreading across her full, red lips. "Hello, Ned," she says, his voice like warm honey and sex. "I've heard so much about you." She turns to Lily and gives her a quick, sensual kiss on the lips. "You called, sister?"
"I did," Lily purrs, gesturing towards me. "Diana, meet our champion. Ned, this is my sister, Diana. The goddess of Lust."