Disclaimer: I do not own Fable 1, 2, or 3, but you should know that by now.

Author's Word: dear TwilightMRaven, you have no idea just how good that party is going to be. I've been planning it out and adding to it and refining it for a few days and nights now and I have a wonderful imagination when it's allowed to sit and fester :D. Lol I'm actually concerned about certain bits being a bit too much for my readers, but we'll see when we get there, won't we ^_^. And as for Mister Daniels, I have something very special planned just for him. I'm sure you won't be disappointed. And to Crazed-Authoress: lol I think I actually felt my inner-Reaver cringe at your use of the word 'scared'. I know I'm insane for making this argument, but he wasn't scared. He was still in the throes of his nightmare, he wasn't aware of what he was saying. SO =P for you. Anyhoo, please pass my insanity off as me not taking my meds, and a side-effect from my glee at more than 450 hits. Not bad for how frequently I update I think. And now, a little treat for my readers. Let the game begin. ^_^

WARNING: Some adult content within. And by the way, I was a little hasty in posting this. I doubt I'll revise it though. I checked for errors manually 3 times and used grammatic-check and spell-check. Anyways, enjoy.


Chapter Seven

Never Bet Against the Devil


It was with a feeling of disquiet that Sparrow entered the Pirate King's lair. Frowning, she realized immediately he wasn't in the outer cabin. The table was set, and she set down their plates before opening the door to the inner cabin and peeking inside. Reaver was not present there either, but the bath was filled and a new set of clothes were laid out alongside a strange game set upon the center of the bed. The board was black with three circles drawn upon it in gold, an inner, middle, and outer, divided into six sections. It looked much like a ship's wheel, but made no sense to her. The pieces were simple flat, round ivory and ebony stones, eleven of each, and polished until they shone, placed at each spot where lines intersected.

This must be the game Reaver had referred to, but they would be playing it in here? Frowning, she turned to the delicate clothing he had left out for her, lifting it from the ebony coverlet. It was the same foreign style Reaver called sare, identical to her green outfit, but this was pure ivory trimmed with golden lace. Rolling her eyes at the decadence, she stripped down and quickly bathed herself, realizing, as she donned the wrapped ivory skirt, that it was secured with a thick chain of beaten gold wrapped around her hips. Stubbornly, she took another gold cord from the bed and tied back her hair before leaving the inner cabin. Reaver stood at the table, pouring two goblets of wine.

He smiled when he saw her, a hint of amusement in his eyes. He, too, was groomed and clean, wearing a black serwan robe trimmed with gold, that he left casually open, and loose black trousers. Sparrow immediately realized that together, they matched the small stones that would be used in tonight's game. Clearly, she was going to be playing as white, and he was black. It took only seconds for her to contemplate all the implications his choice held... white and black... light and dark... purity and corruption... good and evil...

When his impish gaze met hers, Sparrow almost took an instinctive step back. Reaver was up to something tonight, of that she was certain.

"Sparrow, my beauty, come and sit. Make yourself comfortable. Have a drink," Reaver invited with a smile. Sparrow took her seat, keeping cautious eyes on the Pirate. Reaver sat across from her, lifting his goblet to his lips with long, elegant fingers. Sparrow took this to mean hers was somewhat safe, having been poured before her eyes from the same bottle, so she took a tentative sip. They ate in silence for several moments, Reaver making his way steadily through the bottle of wine and even refilling her goblet twice, urging her to have more.

"You do look lovely, Sparrow," he murmured, watching her over the rim of his cup.

Sparrow felt her cheeks heat up at his compliments, but tried to sound displeased. "When do you think I could have my normal clothes back? This skirt is so fragile and impractical."

Reaver smiled wickedly. "Perhaps you can win them back."

"Win them back?" Sparrow asked with a frown, setting down her fork.

"Yes, during our little game tonight."

"You mean that board game placed so inconspicuously at the center of your bed?" Sparrow asked with a smirk.

Reaver chuckled. "The board is simply a medium to the true game," he replied, standing from his chair and bringing the wine and a single goblet with them. He took her hand and she followed Reaver to the inner cabin, setting herself across from him on her side of the board.

"Have you played Kate-Kati?" he asked, fluffing a pillow and laying on his side, his head propped up by one crooked arm. Sparrow folded her legs under her demurely and shook her head. "The rules are quite simple. Each piece only moves one space in any direction, or jumps over another piece to capture it. You may chain jumps together to capture multiple pieces. Obviously, the one to capture all the opponent's stones is the winner."

"Sounds easy enough," Sparrow admitted. "Who goes first?"

"White plays first." Sparrow nodded and made her first move. The idea wasn't complicated, but Sparrow found she had to keep her eyes open for chances to capture the most stones while sacrificing very little. In a way, it was an old game for her, one she'd lived for years, one she had always been good at. At the end of the first round, she had won, and couldn't help a small smile of triumph. Reaver, however, let out an exaggerated yawn as he drank from their shared goblet.

"Bored?" she asked with a rare, mischievous smile. He stared, transfixed as he passed her the cup and she drank deeply.

"Well, it isn't as fun when you don't win anything... or have nothing to lose."

Sparrow tensed slightly. So, he was about to reveal his true game. "What did you have in mind?" she asked as casually as she could.

"How about a simple wager?" he asked, equally as nonchalant, but a hint of a smile hovered around his lips.

Sparrow paused in her hasty denial. Betting against a merciless knave like Reaver was risky business, but... she could stand to gain much.

"What could I possibly have to wager?" she asked. Reaver's smile deepened.

"I'm sure we'll come up with something," he said with a leer. When she looked ready to deny him, he said, "It doesn't have to be physical goods. Do be original, Sparrow," he teased. And then, after a slight pause, "Unless you're too afraid to take a little risk. Is it so bad to have a little fun?"

Eyes narrowing suspiciously, Sparrow nodded despite her better judgement. "Very well, Reaver. You're on. What will we wager first?"

Reaver reset the board, sliding the shiny round stones back into their original places. "Legendary artifacts, perhaps? I do believe you have in your possession a legendary gem, Archon's Dream."

Sparrow's mouth unlatched and hung ajar for a moment before she snapped it shut. "How did you know about that?"

Reaver grinned. "Some years ago I happened to spend a night with a rather... gifted archeologist. While I bought her several rounds of the strongest ale on-hand, she began to talk, said something about a filthy, thieving Hero who had helped her locate a legendary gem, but made off with it instead of collecting the reward."

Sparrow blushed indignantly. "Oh, okay, I took it. But you should have seen the greed in that woman's eyes. After sending me schlepping all over Albion for years hunting down clues and artifacts, she offered me a piddling fifty-thousand gold for a priceless gem she likely intended to sell to the highest bidder. So I left with the jewel and hid it."

"Oh, but not well enough, my lovely," he said, trailing his fingers down her arm to the signet ring she always wore on the middle finger of her right hand. It signified her status and responsibility as the Mayor of Bloodstone. Under the simple seal of a sparrow in flight, a fiery red stone gleamed up at them. It appeared at first glance to be a ruby, or even an exceptional garnet, but the Pirate was not fooled. "No mere ruby has the shine of vibrance of Archon's Dream."

Sparrow snatched her hand away, her skin tingling where his finger had traced. "What do you have that I would wager this against?"

"Go, look in there," he said, gesturing to one of the red, lacquered cabinets. Sparrow stood and pulled on a small, golden handle, revealing a long, slender, curved sword hanging against a black backdrop. Its blade shimmered with an aura of deep, ominous purple. The hilt was simple gold engraved with a dragon, its eyes beset with two lustrous emeralds. "A piece of the Old Tribes of Samarkand," Reaver said from directly behind her, his hands trailing lightly up her arms. "And, of course, a sample of the treasures to be had there by those daring enough to take them," he added.,l "The Rohin Barhati. It was a sword handed down through Samarkand royalty. It is light, unbreakable, with a single edge sharp enough to sever a single hair. But what is most fascinating is the augmentation. The legend says this sword will leave your purify your soul when you kill with it, as long as the kill is just. A blatant murder, however, will near destroy you."

"In other words, a weapon you would never weild," she said. Then, with a suspicious glance, she asked, "And how did you come by it?"

Smiling slyly, he returned to his place on the bed and said, "That's hardly part of the wager, now is it?"

Sparrow scowled but returned to her spot. "Very well, you're on. My gem against your blade."

Reaver watched with satisfaction as she made her first move, and later had the same peculiar smile as Sparrow retrieved the sword from the cabinet and sat admiring her newest treasure. Reaver poured them another goblet of wine. He passed it to her first, watching her lips devour the red liquid as he asked, "What shall we play for next?"

Sparrow thought for a moment as she eased into a plush pillow, relaxed as the wine warmed her blood and pleased with her victory. Reaching across the board, he placed his thumb against the corner of her lower lip, blotting away a drop of wine from her stained mouth. "The truth."

"The winner asks a question and the loser answers?"

"You take my meaning exactly," Sparrow confirmed with a smile.

"Agreed," Reaver said, and allowed Sparrow to make the first move. He played casually, almost bored, and in the end Sparrow took his last piece.

With a triumphant smile, she asked, "What is your real name?" She smiled at his surprised expression and sipped her wine before elaborating, "Before you became Reaver."

Reaver's face turned expressionless and he looked away, then looked back at her with a sly smile on his face. "Aiden." Sparrow nodded and passed him the goblet. He gently caressed her finger before taking it, placing his lips on the exact spot she had.

Looking down, somehow embarrassed with the new intimacy of knowledge, Sparrow said, "It's your choice next."

Reaver placed the goblet aside and said, "How about a request?" Her eyes jumped back to his and she frowned questioningly. "The winner asks the loser for one thing and the loser must acquiesce no matter the request," he clarified with a grin.

"Within reason," Sparrow hedged.

Reaver agreed and Sparrow took her move. Several minutes later as Reaver captured her last piece, he gently pushed the board aside and beckoned her nearer with one crooked finger. Slightly unbalanced from drink and with her heart pounding, she swallowed hard and came to kneel beside him. Letting his head fall back on the pillows, he took her delicate shoulders in his hands, pulling her down onto his chest. She settled her palms on his bare skin, a tremor going through her as she felt the heat radiating off him. He urged her down until her breasts were flush with his hard, lean muscles. Her stomach fluttered as she mulled over his request would be, but he did not leave her waiting.

"Kiss me, Sparrow," he murmured hoarsely, his eyes locked on her soft, wine-stained lips. Sparrow's breath caught in her throat, and subconsciously her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Reaver groaned in torment, one hand sliding up her exposed back to cup the back of her head as the other cradled her closer. Taking a steadying breath, Sparrow slowly inched her lips closer to his until she felt their exquisite warmth. Her lips fit his seamlessly, the heat instinctively making her gasp, and Reaver, being the pirate he is, took full advantage, fusing their lips together as he plundered her mouth. He felt a jolt straight down to his thickening shaft when her tongue eagerly met his. He groaned in response, his arm tightening around her as his hand crushed her hair, preventing her escape as he desperately ravished her mouth. His blood sang when her response was to wrap her arms around his neck, her lips turning aggressive. With a growl he rolled, trapping her beneath him as his tongue repeatedly interlocked with hers, her taste inflaming him until he forgot all about their game, until his thoughts turned to mush and his hands cupped her face, holding her prisoner until he could bring himself to pull away.

Her eyes stared up at him, wide with shock as she tried to catch her breath. Smiling in satisfaction, he kissed her gently before he rolled off of her, returning to his original place. Her head turned to watch him, momentarily dazed as she tried to collect her wits.

"Another round?" he asked casually, as though he had been doing nothing more strenuous than admiring himself in the mirror.

Sparrow turned onto one side, scowling, and suddenly determined to get something from him. "Clothes."

Reaver smiled mischievously. "Very well, for every three stones you capture, I will let you chose any article of clothing from my wardrobe. But," he added slyly, his eyes roaming significantly down her slender frame, "for every three pieces I capture, I will take something from you."

Sparrow held her breath, a strange shiver going down her spine. She told herself it had everything to do with apprehension and nothing to do with the thought of Reaver's hands on her again. "Very well, if that is what it takes. But if I win the round, you must return all the clothes you remove."

"And if you lose the round, you must forfeit whatever clothing you have remaining, if any, for the rest of the night," he countered smugly. As Sparrow nodded and watched Reaver take the first move, she felt a tension rising within her. Moments later she was in possession of three stones, Reaver having taken one, and she relaxed only slightly as she peered into his wardrobe, finding her trousers before retaking her position. Three moves later and Reaver was in possession of two more stones. With glittering eyes, he pulled her close and reached behind her. Sparrow quivered but gasped in surprise when she felt a tug at her hair. The cord. Reaver pulled it free with a teasing smile, allowing her red-and-gold locks to spill around her and onto the bed.

"Much better," he praised. Sparrow scowled at him and made her move, and minutes later was in possession of her boots again. In one move Reaver took three more of her stones with gloating superiority. He brought her close again, allowing nimble fingers to trace down between her breasts and pull the cords securing her vest. Sparrow almost moaned as he let it fall open, exposing her warm skin to the chilled air. Her pink nipples hardened in response, grabbing Reaver's attention. He filled his vision with her, briefly allowing his fingers to trace the exposed curves. She trembled under his touch, heat flaring inside her in anticipation of him taking her nipples into his mouth again, but the Pirate resisted the temptation. He slid the scrap of fabric down her arms, tossing the vest out of her reach as he invited her to take her next move.

Sparrow sat through the next few moves, self-conscious and sensing the tension filling the air. Reaver watched her intently, the faintest flicker of darkness in those blue orbs as he loved her body with his eyes, his stares so intense the heat inside her burned even hotter. She nearly groaned in response. What was the matter with her? Why did she want Reaver to touch her? This selfish, devious, ruthless pirate? She had to keep her head in the game. She couldn't understand why, but she felt something tremendous teetered on the pinnacle of this microcosm, and if she lost her head, she wouldn't stand a chance of escaping him. Two moves later Sparrow was in possession of a large, billowing shirt of pure black, which she was forced to set aside. Facing Reaver, she watched a slow, sensual smile curve his lips as he took three more stones, yielding only two.

With steady hands he unwrapped the skirt from her, the delicate ivory silk falling away to reveal long slender legs topped by red curls. Sparrow looked down at herself, blushing. She sat before the Pirate King wearing nothing more than her signet ring and the thick gold chain around her hips. Shyly, she pressed her legs together, but this did nothing to deter the Thief. He watched her hungrily from across the board, making her feel small and vulnerable. In one last move he sealed her status, taking her last piece arrogantly, and she nearly groaned in frustration. Reaver's heated staring was distracting, and she took another drink to steady herself.

"Seeing as you have very little left, I'll leave you with what you have," Reaver said. He watched her thoughtfully before musing aloud, "How about we be reckless and play for something we really want?"

Sparrow met his gaze head on. "What do I really want?"

"You're freedom, of course," he said succinctly.

"And what do you want?" she asked apprehensively.

His smile was slow and devious. "I think you know." A high wager indeed. But she was good, as good as he. They had each won two rounds and appeared to be evenly matched. She could win, and then she could finally go home. But if she lost... she would be stuck with him indeffinitely. No, she had to keep her mind on winning. Reaver would steam-roll over her if she doubted herself. Determined to succeed, almost arrogant as the Pirate himself, and yet trembling under his scrutiny, she nodded recklessly. "Done."

With an evil smile, Reaver allowed her to make the first move, and she paid close attention to the board. But no matter how she focused, Reaver upped his game, taking her stones so fast she couldn't believe her eyes. Had he been holding back this whole time? Had he deliberately allowed her to win, luring her into a false sense of security until she fell neatly into his trap?

She could see no other answers as he took eight of her stones while yielding only two. The motherless bastard! she seethed, glowering at him as his eyes watched her with a hint of amusement and no small amount of lust. He had played her from the beginning! It was with furious dismay as she watched him gloatingly take her last piece, his eyes locked with hers. Deliberately, he brushed the board aside, the stones clattering to the floor as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her nude form flush against him, his hard flesh jutting into her belly. He could feel the slight trembling as well as the heart hammering away in her chest.

"You scoundrel," she hissed, furious at her own gullibility. "You tricked me."

Reaver's eyes darkened as he bathed her in his desire, his palms caressing her soft skin as he drank in her delicate features. His lips hovered near hers, smiling shamelessly as he murmured, "A deal is a deal, and I did warn you before, lovely Sparrow. I never said I would play fair."

She opened her mouth to deliver a scathing retort, but Reaver took her lower lip between his, biting down hard enough to make her whimper, the throaty sound ending on a moan. Following nature's course, he pressed his advantage, delving deep into her mouth to taste and torment her while one hand encircled her knee, pulling her leg up to wrap over his waist, tilting her hips forward. He moaned into her soft mouth as he felt her heat seep through the thin material of his trousers, his rigid flesh nestled against her moist curls.

His hips began to rock against her, forcing her to tear her lips from his as the heat inside her burned hotter, fueled by her own desire and fury, and maybe just a bit by the wine. She pushed angrily at his hard chest, enraged at him for tricking her, but he merely fused his lips to her throat, kissing and biting his way down her shoulder. Imprisoning both her wrists in one hand, he pulled them above her head, urging her onto her back where he hovered over her. Positioning himself between her thighs, he wrapped her legs around his waist before he pressed the full length and weight of his body along hers, chuckling as her eyes flew wide before taking her lips again. Over and over he kissed her, grinding his hips down into hers until she was writhing under him, her whimpers and moans contradicting her weakening protests.

When her tongue finally intertwined with his, he released her hands, shrugging out of his black serwan as his lips left hers, traveling again down her throat, all the way to one hard, rosy nipple. Teasingly, he flicked it with his tongue before drawing it into his mouth, sucking and pulling gently with his lips and teeth. Her answering whimper was sweet and vulnerable, almost begging him to love her. He complied with her guttural demands. Switching his attentions, he gave the hard nipple a gentle bite before laving it with his tongue, smiling inwardly as her fingers tangled themselves in his lustrous hair. Sparrow grasped at something, anything to hold onto as his lips drew her deeper into his dark world of sin and hedonism.

Reaver tormented her without mercy, reason and sanity deserting him as her hips began to rock helplessly in motion with his. He had to feel her. He swore he wouldn't live through the night if he didn't. Rising until he was kneeling between her pale thighs, he looked down at her flushed, writhing frame. She gazed up at him with glazed, sultry eyes, her skin flushed pink as needy pants tormented his ears.

They moaned in unison as he slid a finger into her hot sheath; she was so wet and slick he met no resistance but for the thin barrier signifying her overripe innocence, an innocence he would happily relieve her of. Gently, careful to cause no damage, he slid another finger in beside the second, watching her expression waver between defiance and desire. He knew what she wanted, what her body was all but begging him for, but he held back, gently sliding his fingers in and out of her dripping channel.

Sparrow was half mad with desire. She was so hot and wet she thought she would perish if he stopped touching her. She was so furious at him, wanting to strike back at him for playing her the way he had, but her body was mindlessly screaming at her to touch him, to let him do anything he wanted until she was a defenseless, sated shell of herself.

A shell. That is exactly what he would turn her into. She couldn't let him. He would consume her, use her up until there was nothing left and leave her pining for him when he tired of her. Her eyes stung the image hovered in her mind. She wanted more than that. She wanted this one thing in her life to be right and true. She needed more than just a hard, magnificent body with a skilled mouth and devilish fingers.

Struggling against herself, she forced her hands to pull herself away from him. Reaver pursued her, and she gasped her denial, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "Reaver, don't. I can't."

Frowning down at her, Reaver fought for coherency as he read her helpless expression. Taking her chin between his fingers, he simply said, "Why are you fighting something you so obviously want?" The words didn't even make sense to him. Why would she fight him? She wanted, even needed his touch. He'd had enough women, and men, to know how to read their responses, and Sparrow's body was quite expressive when given the proper incentive.

"I just can't, Reaver," she said. "Please, just let me go."

Looking deep into her eyes for a full minute, he struggled with himself, wanting to hold her here and prove to her that she could and would do this, that she needed him just as desperately as he needed her, but against all reason he found himself nodding. "Very well," he breathed, leaving a light kiss upon her lips. "Go for now, while I can still let you. But remember, lovely Sparrow," he whispered, lowering his lips to hover by her ear. "I always collect on my debts."

Shivering, Sparrow scrambled from the bed, mindlessly snatching up the black serwan Reaver had dropped to the floor before fleeing the cabin. Reaver silently watched her go, staring at the door she had disappeared through long after she was gone. What had made him let her go? She was so close, her body attuned to his, their combined passion so hot it seared him. How could he have let her leave? Why would she want to? He couldn't understand. How was she able to resist him when he had her quivering and moaning under him? And why did it bother him so much? There were many other options, even aboard his vessel miles away from any port. But for once, he couldn't bring himself to go seeking out these "other options", his body demanding only Sparrow's softness, her pretty blushes and her scorching heat, so intense he could still feel the burn.

Laying back with a frustrated sigh, he promised himself, Next time. There would be a next time, and she would not evade him. Whether she realized it or not, she had learned to need his touch. Sooner or later she would come to him.