Ким Харрисон - Every Witch Way But Dead

Lee rested his elbows on the rail, watching the dice skitter and roll behind me. "Road scholar," he said shortly. "I got my degree years ago from Berkeley."

"Oh, I'd love to see the coast some time," I said, playing with my necklace and wondering how much of this conversation had turned into exaggeration. "Doesn't the salt make everything difficult?"

He shrugged. "Not so much for ley line witches. I feel bad for earth witches, locked into a path that has no power."

My mouth dropped open. No power? Hardly. Earth magic's strength stemmed from ley lines as much as ley line witches' spells. That it was filtered through plants made it more forgiving, and perhaps slower, but no less powerful. There wasn't a ley line charm written that could physically change a person's form. Now that was power. Chalking it up to ignorance, I let it slide lest I drive him away before I got a chance to know just how big of a jerk he was, first.

"Look at me," he said, clearly recognizing that he had stuck his foot so far down his throat that his toes might wiggle out of his ass. "Here I am bothering you, when you probably want to play some before your boyfriend gets back."

"He's not my boyfriend," I said, not as excited as I could be for the subtle inquiry as to my attached status. "I told him he couldn't take me out on a decent date for sixty dollars, and he accepted the challenge."

Lee ran his eyes over the casino. "How's it going?"

I sipped my drink, wishing the ice cream hadn't melted. Behind me there was a loud cheer as something good happened. "Well, so far I've gotten sugared and passed out in a vamp dance club, insulted my roommate, and tripped the security system of a casino boat." I lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. "Not bad, I guess."

"It's early yet." Lee's gaze followed the rolling dice behind me. "Can I buy you a drink? I've heard the house wine is good. Merlot, I think it is."

I wondered where this was going. "No thanks. Red wine…doesn't sit well with me."

He chuckled. "I'm not particularly fond of it either. It gives me migraines."

"Me too," I exclaimed softly, truly surprised.

Lee tossed his bangs from his eyes. "Now, if I had said that, you would have accused me of dropping you a line." I smiled, feeling shy all of a sudden, and he turned to the cheering at the table. "You don't gamble, do you?" he said.

I glanced behind me and then back to him. "It shows, huh?"

He put a hand on my shoulder and turned me around. "They've rolled three fours in a row, and you haven't noticed," he said softly, almost in my ear.

I did nothing to either discourage or encourage him, the sudden pounding of my heart not telling me what to do. "Oh, is that unusual?" I said, trying to keep my voice light.

"Here," he said, motioning to the craps man. "New roller," he called loudly.

"Oh, wait," I protested. "I don't even know how to bet."

Not to be deterred, Lee took my little chip bucket and guided me to the head of the table. "You roll, I'll bet for you." He hesitated, brown eyes innocent. "Is that…okay?"

"Sure," I said, grinning. What did I care? Kisten had given me the chips. That he wasn't there to spend them with me wasn't my problem. Teaching me how to throw craps was what he was supposed to be doing, not some guy in a tux. Where was he, anyway?

I glanced over the assembled faces around the table as I took the dice. They felt slippery—like bone in my hand—and I shook them.

"Wait…" Lee reached out and took my hand in his. "You have to kiss them first. But only once," he said, his voice serious though his eyes glinted. "If they think they'll get loved all the time, they won't put out."

"Right," I said, his hands falling when I pulled the dice to my lips but refused to touch them. I mean, really. Yuck. People shuffled their chips around, and heart faster than the game warranted, I threw the dice. I eyed Lee, not the dice, as they skittered and danced.

Lee watched in rapt attention, and I thought that though he wasn't pretty like Kisten, he was far more likely to be on a magazine cover than Nick. Just an average guy, and a witch with a degree. My mother would love me to bring this one home. Something had to be wrong with him. Besides his demon mark? I thought dryly. God, save me from myself.

The watching people had various reactions to the eight I rolled. "Not good?" I asked Lee.

His shoulders rose and fell as he took the dice the craps man pushed to him. "It's okay," he said. "But you have to roll an eight again before a seven comes up to win."

"Oh," I said, pretending I understood. Mystified, I threw the dice. This time they came up nine. "Keep going?" I said, and he nodded.

"I'll place some one-roll bets for you," he said, then paused. "If that's okay?"

Everyone was waiting, so I said, "Sure, that will be great."

Lee nodded. His brow furrowed for a moment, then he set a pile of red chips on a square. Someone snickered, leaning to whisper "Innocent slaughter" in their neighbor's ear.

The dice were warm in my hand, and I sent them rolling. They bounced off the wall, coming to halt. It was an eleven, and everyone at the table groaned. Lee, though, was smiling. "You won," he said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "See?" He pointed. "Odds are fifteen-to-one of rolling an eleven. I figured you'd be a zebra."

My eyes widened as the predominate color of my pile of chips went from red to blue as the craps man piled a stack on them. "Beg pardon?"

Lee set the dice in my hand. "When you hear hoofbeats, look for horses. That would be the common rolls in this case. I knew you'd roll something odd. A zebra."

I grinned, rather liking the idea, and the dice flew from me almost before he moved my chips to another square. My pulse quickened, and as Lee explained the details of odds and betting, I rolled again, and again, and again, the table becoming louder and more excited. It wasn't long before I caught on. The risk, the question of what would happen and the breathless wait until the dice settled, was akin to being on a run, only better because here it was little plastic chips on the line, not my life. Lee switched his tutorial to other ways to wager, and when I dared to make a suggestion, he beamed, gesturing that the table was mine.

Delighted, I took over the betting, letting it ride where it was while Lee put a hand on my shoulder and whispered the odds of throwing this and that. He smelled like sand. I could feel his excitement through the thin material of my silk shirt, and the warmth of his fingers seemed to linger on my shoulder when he shifted to put the dice in my hand.

I looked up when the table cheered my latest roll, surprised that almost everyone was clustered about us and that we had somehow become the center of attention. "Looks like you have it." Lee smiled as he took a step back.

Immediately my face went slack. "You're leaving?" I asked as the red-cheeked guy drinking beer pressed the dice into my hand and urged me to throw them.

"I need to go," he said. "But I couldn't resist meeting you." Leaning close, he said, "I enjoyed teaching you craps. You're a very special woman, Rachel."

"Lee?" Confused, I set the dice down and the people around the table groaned.

Lee slid the dice into his hand and put them in mine. "You're hot. Don't stop."

"Do you want my phone number?" I asked. Oh God, I sounded desperate.

But Lee smiled, his teeth hidden. "You're Rachel Morgan, the I.S. runner who quit to work with last living Tamwood vamp. You're in the phone book—in four places, no less."

My face flamed, but I managed to stop myself before I told everyone I wasn't a hooker.

"Till next time," Lee said, raising his hand and inclining his head before he walked away.

Setting the dice down, I backed from the table so I could watch him vanish up the stairway at the back of the boat, looking good in his tux and purple sash. It matched his aura, I decided. A new shooter took my place, and the noise returned.