Dangerous Card Games Novels & Stories

"That this weirdo is spending so much money on you. You haven't met this guy before, but he knows work is hard for you and how stressed you are with all the gossip. He misses your eyes, your beauty." Kali stared at the box. "How many times did you read that card." "Is that what matters now? Listen to me. This guy can be dangerous. If he is making fantasies in his head and convincing himself that there is a relationship between the two of you. He could do something dangerous one of these days." Kali seemed to understand where he was going. She immediately shifted from sceptical to worried. He didn't want to scare her, but it was something that they had to address.

The dimly lit room seemed to close in around me as I stared at the two cards lying face down on the table, each promising secrets and dares that should remain hidden in the dark. My eyes flickered between the two, hesitating, unsure of which path held more danger. The clock ticked louder with each passing second, as if urging me to make a choice before time ran out and the consequences became unavoidable. "Go on, Ms. Fridays. You don't want your hands to be chopped off, isn't it?" With the card dealers alluring smiles and tricky wicked words, my hand and brain was left with no choice but to join forces and picked the card situated on my right side.

His blood was running all the way from his shoulder down to my arm and the floor, but none of us moved. After all, this addiction, we both knew, was dangerous. In fact, we were more addicted to the danger.

He looked at Jon without interest. “I was wondering if you could order a game for me or if you knew the company that put it out. It’s called Dark Dungeons.” “It’s one of them weird ones like Dungeons and Dragons.” “Yeah.” With a sigh, the old man pulled out a mammoth catalogue and flipped through it. “Got a card game called Dark Cults.” “That’s not it.” “Then I can’t help you.” “You have no information on it?” The old man stabbed at the catalogue with an irritated finger. “It’s not in the book!”

Daniel's POV "I have warned you before. You had to take my warnings seriously." I said firmly and placed my hand into my pocket. "You didn't have to do that. I will make you pay. You..." "Hey, hold on. If you do something, especially, if you do something to hurt someone who I love, you will regret it. I don't think you want to see that photo in magazines." I warned her. She clenched her fist as her face flushed with anger. "If you do something again, I will destroy your reputation. No one will look at your face after that. Forget about high society parties, influential friends and so on." I added arrogantly.

He didn't finish saying it when I reached here and seemed to want to melt me ​​with his yellow haired gaze. "Why would I?" I said sarcastically but his gaze was still serious. "I'll stand." He said with a smirk. "Okay, Hit me." I said and we've shown up our cards, I bet I'll lose this game. Yes and it is... Damn it! I was too complacent when I said the words hit me and I was given another card and it's still not enough! My card is Nine of hearts, two of diamonds, and five of hearts while his card is nine of spades and 9 of diamonds for a total of 18 mine is 16.

The bodyguard leaned in as Maruska whispered, and then he flexed his wrist dismissively. "Eyes on your cards, ma'am," the dealer's sharp words pulled my attention back to the table and I stared at the cards arrayed before me. A card game wasn't just a simple pastime when played in a place like this casino. My father had lost a literal hand over a bad deal once upon a time. It was dangerous, but this was my only way to catch that bastard's eye. I slid a card forward, watching as the portly man to my left leered openly. Some old pervert, hilarious. I knew exactly what he wanted – I could smell the lust radiating off him, just like the skeezy men at the club.

Maxime Pov The Northpoint house party is a beast all its own—a living, sweating, pulsing animal with bad intentions and zero chill. Every breath I take is thick with cheap beer, tequila fumes, and too many different brands of overpriced cologne. It’s sensory overload—the walls vibrate with bass so heavy it shakes my insides, lights flicker strobe patterns over faces I mostly recognize and wish I didn’t. Navigating this place is war; shoulders bump mine, someone spills a drink down my arm, and my boots stick to floors that haven’t seen a mop since move-in day.

In truth, it was because I knew she liked motorcycles. "You said you wanted something exciting, right? To me, this is as exciting as it gets." The bike wasn’t anything special, but the thrill was, especially for someone like her, who had always been in control. Now she was sitting behind me, arms wrapped around my waist. I sped down the road, twisting the throttle, barely touching the brakes. "Slow down! Slow down!" she shouted, but I ignored her. The "suspension bridge effect" occurs when individuals in a state of high anxiety experience an adrenaline rush that the brain misinterprets as romantic attraction rather than fear. That was exactly what I wanted.

Damien looked at her like he regretted saying the words the second they left his mouth. Yet somehow couldn’t take them back. Thunder rolled outside the windows. Neither moved. Vivian should say something. Professional. Reasonable. Safe. Instead she asked softly: “What exactly are you trying to say?” Damien’s jaw tightened. For a second, she thought he might finally say it. Finally break. But Damien Blackwood was a man built entirely from restraint. And restraint won. His expression cooled slightly. “I think Roman Ellis is dangerous.” Coward. The thought came instantly.