Page 114 of Evil Hearts

“If you say so, honey lamb.” Letting my forked tongue flick out over my lower lip, I smile when Jericho barely stifles his groan. He hates when I call him that, despises it with everything inside him, but the male loves what I can do with my tongue, and obviously that won out in the battle of his reactions right now.

“Enough,” my alpha grunts, not so discreetly adjusting his dick while he turns to the men. “Four of a kind is impossible.”

The one who thinks he’s taking home nearly six thousand pounds swallows hard, his eyes bouncing between us before settling on Jericho. “I… I have it. See, right there, it’s four of a kind.”

My mate pushes his pin straight, snow white hair out of his face and between large, curled horns on his head, the silky strands exposing the smaller set at his temples. He sighs, shaking his head and leaning back in his chair.

“Four of a kind,” the other man, who’s been silent until now, says with a nod. “It’s as plain as day.”

“Mhm,” Jericho hums, one of his barely visible brows arching. But he says nothing. No more than a grunt while he stares so hard I’m concerned he’s about to do what he’s not supposed to do in this pub after the last time he did it.

Which was to turn one player to stone before eating the other, and it’s why this is ultimately going to be up to me to handle this right now, if I don’t want us to get kicked out of this pub.

There are only so many in London, less than twenty that will cater to the likes of us, and if my math is correct, this one makes five that Jericho and I are still allowed in.

The Silver Bullet is my favorite of our options, it’s the closest to our home in the East End, and I like that it allows humans to mingle with us.

Considering our backgrounds, it’s odd that Jericho and I have such an affection for this disease infested, poverty ridden area, or maybe that’s exactly why we do. Coming from something similar makes us more empathetic to it. So much so, we actually have our own doss houses, and we charge less than the four pence most do for the same reason.

Do we live in those doss houses? No, far from them, but we have a second home of sorts here, off Dorset Street close to our lodgings. It’s for nights like tonight, when we come all the way into Whitechapel to collect from our tenants, grab an ale at The Silver Bullet, then proceed to get far too drunk to return to our statelier home in the peaceful countryside of Essex.

Jericho and I have a good thing going, something so much better for us than what we were doing in Greece, and having options when it comes to our social life is something I’m not ready to give up.Again, since it’s part of why we left my home country and came to England.

So, with an over dramatic sigh, I stretch my arm out in front of my mate to keep him seated and lean toward the idiot humans.

“If the man says it’s not possible, I think it’s safe to say that we should just agree with him so that we all leave here with everything we came in with.”

The chattier of them frowns. “Everything we came with?” Then he signs his death warrant by adding, “I won’t agree with no liar, monster or not.”

I try to keep my arm across Jericho’s chest, try and fail to keep him at bay, but this dumbass called him a liar and while my mate might be a lot of things, a liar isn’t one of them.

He really fucking hates being called one. My lovely gargoyle is not very fond of being called a monster, either, especially by human men who are usually more guilty of heinous crimes and nefarious behavior against their own kind, than the two of us combined.

The tip of Jericho’s tail darts across the table between us, the razor-sharp point stabbing the ace of clubs I had in my hand before it wraps around the man’s neck several times then shoves the card in his face.

“Impossible,” he growls as he tightens his hold. “You are the cheaters, the liars, and themonsters.”

“Drop him,” the other human says quietly as he aims a pistol at me. “Drop him, or I’ll blow your mate right out the back of this building into the middle of Commercial Street.”

I’m not sure what’s more impressive. The level of bravery these two are no doubt trying to exhibit, or the sheer stupidity that they are actually exhibiting it with the same amount of tenacity.

“Drop him?” Jericho asks as he tilts his head and cocks a brow. “Is that supposed to be a command? Like one you’d give to the family dog?”

Oh dear.“Look, gentleman.” I lift my hands, trying to calm both sides of this stupid argument. “It’s clear that you were cheating based on the card that I had in my hand. Folding early doesn’t change the fact that I had it, and if you’ll be so kind and admit defeat, then pay what we are owed, I do believe this evening will be a much better one for all of us.”

“Bugger off,” the one with the gun says just as Jericho lets his skin glimmer back into that almost sparkly dark gray hue, indicating he is now holding nothing back. “We’ll do no such thing, not when—”

I barely have time to anticipate his move, my mate shoots up from the table so fast he’s a dark colored blur in the corner of my eye, the talon on the end of the bone in his right wing puncturing the gunslinger’s shoulder instead of the side of his head as I get to my feet and manage to deflect it.

He growls at me, my alpha pissed that I stopped him, but I have the man’s throat in my hand, and I was able to disarm him thanks to his shift in focus. “He’s no longer a threat.”

Jericho’s grip tightens around the other’s throat. “They never were a threat.”

“Fine. He’s no longer anuisance. Is that better?”

“It’s a start.” He pulls the one closer, his tail suspending him above the ground. “Never a threat.” Jericho tilts his head from side to side, examining the man as if he’s never seen one before, the light catching on all four of his onyx horns in a way that has my heart fluttering.Beautiful.“Not here, not—”

“Take it outside!” The bar keep, who is a rather crabby cyclops, barks from across the room. “I told you, gargoyle, not in my pub!”

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