Serpent's Touch (Serpent's Touch 1)

“All on this row!” He slammed the remaining four chips on the same row he’d just lost the money on.

Amira blew out a breath. “You’ve just bet on this one. And lost.”

“Exactly!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “But it has the lucky number seven, see? So, it has to win sometime.”

The croupier grunted at his flawed logic, accepting the bet.

Rourke must already be eyeing his right bracer, or maybe the large emerald ring on Kyllen’s left pointer finger. He doubted the plain river rock on his small finger on the right attracted any attention, even though it was far more valuable than the emerald where he came from.

The croupier spun the wheel. The little ball rattled and rolled.

Kyllen leaned in, as if watching it with rapt attention. He touched the edge of the table lightly, building the connection with the mechanics of the roulette—the bowl, the wheel, the bearings… The mechanism was simple, which was the point of the game, of course.

He sent a tiny tendril of magic, slowing the spinning of the wheel just a little bit sooner. It forced the ball to remain on seven instead of jumping over to eight.

The croupier announced the winning number, his voice stunned somewhat, then placed considerably more chips in front of Kyllen than he’d wagered.

“That pays five to one,” the dealer explained flatly.

“Wonderful.” Kyllen smiled brightly, resisting the urge to punch the man.

The payout should’ve been at least three times higher than that according to the odds of winning, but he wasn’t here to teach these people the rules. Not when he had the complete control of the game, anyway.

Amira leaned toward his ear again. “We really should be going now.”

“Just a little longer, honey.” He wished to at least triple the money he got for the bracer, and since the idiots were dead-set on ripping him off, that would take longer than if they played by the rules.

“Sure thing. You can’t leave now,” Rourke exclaimed with a fake enthusiasm. “You’re on a lucky streak!”

Kyllen wondered what Rourke was getting out of it. Probably a cut from the sale of the emeralds. Maybe he had a stake in the whole establishment? Or maybe he got a portion of whatever each poor wrench he’d dragged in here would lose. Either way, the shady human showed way too much interest in Kyllen and his winnings.

To avoid raising suspicions, he let the game take its course for a little while. Placing small bets, he lost some and won some.

Once he was down by almost a half of his winnings, he made a bet that promised ten times the payout, according to their crooked rules.

“All or nothing!” He shoved all his chips, worth eleven hundred, on the number eleven, then turned to Amira. “You’re tired, aren’t you, my sunshine? We’ll leave after this one.”

He sent another small surge of magic, aiming for the ball to land in the pocket he needed.

That was exactly why roulette was outlawed in Lorsan. Anything with a ball and bearing counted as a mechanism, and gorgonians wielded power over any mechanism in existence.

For that reason, gorgonians weren’t allowed into the gambling halls outside of Lorsan. That didn’t stop some gorgonian travelers from sneaking into the halls in Sarnala, the land of the werewolves, or Dakath, the kingdom of gargoyles, to manipulate the game in their favor. Some of them won big and returned to Lorsan much richer than they’d left. Others were discovered and killed.

The most important rule when cheating in gambling was not to get caught.

He sensed it was time to quit.

“That’s the last one, my sweetie pie,” he promised to Amira.

“Eleven. Black,” the croupier announced grimly. The man certainly wasn’t impartial to the house losing. He must be getting a cut, too. In fact, Kyllen was surprised to find the table not rigged in any way. Well, maybe after tonight they would rig it in their favor.

“Yes!” He threw his hands up in the air, leaping up in excitement. “We won, my sugar plum!”

“Ten thousand pounds,” the dealer counted out the chips in a hollow voice.

“That should be eleven thousand,” Amira objected. Obviously, the multiplication rules didn’t apply here, either.

Rourke froze for a few moments then jumped into action, quickly. “Hey, want to try some cards now? How about blackjack?”

Card games were Kyllen’s favorite, but he couldn’t leave anything up to luck tonight.

“No. Maybe tomorrow.” He drew Amira to his side again. “The lady is tired.” He kissed her on the cheek, mostly for show, but also because he really wanted to kiss her.

The skin on her cheek felt even softer than that on her hand. She smelled of earth and ocean. She even had the taste of the ocean, he discovered. The kiss left the smidge of salt on his lips. Then he realized where the salt had come from. She’d cried when she had shot that brack, Radax.

It was the salt of her tears he’d just tasted.

His heart tightened with a new sensation. Sorrow? Compassion? A combination of both? Either way, it wasn’t pleasant. It hurt, as if Amira’s unhappiness filtered through to him.

Curiously, he didn’t regret the feeling. He didn’t mind hurting for her. He just wished she would suffer less if he took some of her pain.

“We’re leaving,” he announced, wrapping his arm tighter around her. “Please exchange the chips for…whatever it is you call currency in these parts.”

As could’ve been expected, that wasn’t met with enthusiasm from those present. From beneath his hood, he saw men shifting closer. Even some of those he’d mistaken for patrons of this place now were closing in on them. With the establishment lacking uniforms, it was hard to tell who was a guest and who was an employee.

Rourke stepped forward. “The night is young. What’s your hurry?” He spat through his teeth on the carpeted floor.

Kyllen let go of Amira and shifted her behind him slightly. “I said the lady is tired. We need to leave.”

He really wished to avoid a carnage at this late hour, but if they left him no choice, he had absolutely no problems resorting to violence.

Amira poked her head from around his shoulder.

“You said there’s a hotel in this building?” she asked Rourke.

“So?” The man grunted.

“Well, can we stay the night? Then gamble some more tomorrow?”

Her quick thinking just saved these men their pitiful little lives.

Rourke sniffed, wiping his nose with his arm. “That could be arranged. Why not?”

“Splendid.” Kyllen grinned at him. “Now get me my money, then lead the way to our accommodations, my hardly esteemed friend.”