The casino buzzed with whispers and shimmering lights, but everything stopped the moment she walked in.

Athena.

No last name. No introduction.
Just curves, confidence, and glowing eyes that could command gods or ruin kings.

She took her place at the velvet-draped blackjack table, dressed in a midnight-black bunny suit that hugged every divine contour of her pale, sculpted body. Her curled horns glistened under the chandeliers, a mark of something… otherworldly.

The men didn’t come to win.
They came to lose themselves.

"Place your bets," she purred, voice like liquid velvet as her long fingers shuffled the cards with inhuman grace. Her tail flicked behind her like punctuation. Every move was art. Every glance, a tease. And those fishnet-covered legs? Crossed just tightly enough to suggest the prize behind them wasn’t for just anyone.

A high roller leaned in too close.
She leaned closer.

“If you play your cards right,” she whispered into his ear, “you might just get… lucky.”

He swallowed hard. She smiled, slowly.

Blackjack. Again.

He never had a chance.

But neither did the rest of the room.
She wasn't just dealing cards—she was dealing temptation.