Lost to the Gray by Amanda Bonilla Page B

months buffeted my mind, tying my emotions into an unyielding knot.
    “Sometimes, death is the only escape,” Kadambari whispered. “Your fate is bound to the wheel, Tyler. The freedom of death or the pain of living . . . I wonder, where will the ball stop?”
    If I had to live in a world where Darian’s love belonged to that arrogant bastard of a king, I’d rather be dead.
They’re visions, nothing real. Just the effects of the Ambrosia
. Reason scratched at the back of my consciousness.
Darian is yours. She’ll always be
yours.
    The wheel slowed to a stop, the ball bouncing twice before it landed on a white square. A sigh of relief escaped my chest. “Life,” Kadambari said simply, and motioned for Freya to dole out my winnings.
    I’d made twenty-five grand on my bet. Most people would have scoffed at the odds. But when the alternative was death, th Swasaceose odds suddenly didn’t look so bad.
    “Rylon.” The Fae looked away from Freya at the mention of his name, a snarl curling his lip. The thing about consuming Ambrosia: It not only lowered inhibitions, but enhanced certain personality traits. Rylon must have been a disagreeable motherfucker on a good day, because his aggression was off the charts right now. “Step forward.”
    Freya held a tray of chips under one arm, the golden ball in her opposite, outstretched hand. She bent her elbow in toward her body as if she feared getting too close to the Fae. For good reason too. He’d made no secret of the fact he wanted Kadambari’s slave, and instead of plucking the roulette ball from her palm, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her hard against his body.
    “Mine!” he snarled before running his nose roughly against the Sylph’s cheek. Rylon inhaled deeply and shuddered in ecstasy. He snatched the tray of chips clutched tight in Freya’s other arm and deposited it on the table, snagging a handful for his bet. Rylon hissed as the gambling tokens lacerated his skin and he threw them on the table without preamble, sending them scattering across the surface and down onto the floor. “Two hundred and fifty thousand,” he all but growled. “And if I land on white . . .” He jerked Freya tight against his chest. “The Sylph belongs to me as well.”
    A strangled cry bubbled up from Mithandra’s throat. She stumbled toward Rylon, fumbling with her waistband at the small of her back, presumably for a weapon. My brain was slow to react, still thick and logy from the Ambrosia. So many kinks in what was supposed to be an easy job. I didn’t want to make a scene, and if Mithandra charged Rylon, she’d only serve to enrage our hostess and get herself killed. In my muddled state of mind, I reasoned there was only one thing to do. . . .
    I intercepted her before she made it to Rylon, spun her toward me, and kissed her.
    Whoa there, buddy
. My brain put on the brakes so fast I had whiplash.
What in the hell are you
doing
? Mithandra wrapped her arms around my neck, coming up on her tiptoes to press her body into mine. I’d been hoping to distract her without making a scene, but when the idea popped into my head, it had all played out differently. Smoother, somehow. My reasoning was all fucked up, the Ambrosia still working its way through my system. Mithandra’s too. Obviously. Her tongue flicked out against the seam of my lips. Gods, it felt good.
    Slow your roll, tiger
. It wasn’t my inner voice chiding me this time, but
hers
. Darian. I looked over Mithandra’s should and a perfect image of her stood to one side of me, her smile almost mocking
. Get your shit straight. You’re not going to protect dick fucked up like you are. And I can guarantee you’re not doing that poor Sylph any favors by kissing her that way. Take it from me; you’re an outstanding kisser, Ty. She’ll be a puddle of goo at your feet in a couple minutes flat
.
    Even though the illusion was a result of my inebriated state, she was so,
so
real. I wanted to reach out.