Page 7 of Rogue Lyon

His stomach rumbled and he took a sip of his drink. He’d have a game then peruse the menu, pick something out for a slap-up meal.

“Greetings, sir.”

A feminine voice to his right had him turning.

A beautiful, tall woman stood there, her eyelashes fluttering and her rosy lips tilted into a seductive smile. Around her neck was a thick-bodied snake of the most unusual shade of sunshine yellow.

“Good evening to you.” He looked at her pale fingers curled around the scaled body. “You have quite the companion.”

“This is Sydney. He’s from India. Do you like him?”

“He’s really something.” Jules found himself reaching out and stroking the snake’s dry skin. “Heavy, I would imagine, over your shoulders like that.”

Her eyebrows twitched slightly, as though surprised by his reaction. “Yes, he is, but he enjoys coming out of his cage to see everyone.” She bit on her bottom lip and grinned. “He’s also always on the lookout for rats. They’re his favorite meal.”

Jules chuckled and stared at the creature’s pointed face and forked tongue that was busy tasting the air. “Plenty of them out there if you know where to look.”

“Oh, yes, he never goes hungry.” She glanced at the tables. “Are you playing?”

“Most certainly. Perhaps Sydney will bring me luck.”

“I’m sure he will.” The woman walked past him, the end of the snake’s long body curled around her arms.

“Well, I never,” he muttered with a chuckle. That was something he hadn’t seen at the Lyon’s Den before.

He spotted an almost-full table about to start a game of brag. The dealer was shuffling. Time to start winning.

As he sat, he noticed this dealer was different.

A woman.

She glanced at him then carried on expertly smooshing the cards. Spreading them out facedown before gathering them up in a completely new arrangement.

The three men at his side were watching closely, their cash already stacked up.

Brag was a fast betting game. Three cards, best hand won the pot.

“Mr. Habsburg.” One of the wolves, Lysander, nodded at him as he walked behind the dealer.

“Greetings,” he said in return as he dug into his pocket. He had a pleasing amount of silver crowns and several gold sovereigns, so to get himself started, he pulled out four crowns and set them on the green table covering.

The other men glanced at him. It was enough money to be serious about a game but not enough to give any indication of how lucky he was feeling or how competent a player he was.

“May the best man win,” he said, holding his drink aloft and grinning.

“Hear, hear.” The man closest to him tugged on his graying beard.

The other two nodded in acknowledgment.

The dealer, a delicate woman with an elegant jawline, looked at each man in turn, her blue eyes connecting with everyone. “Set your bets, gentlemen.”

He pushed forward a silver crown, his gaze dipping to the pretty pearl necklace she wore that reflected onto her pale skin.

“Very good.” She held the cards in her grip for another split second and then, fast as a cobra strike, she dealt each man three cards and laid the communal three on the table.

His stomach tightened the way it always did as he took his cards. The unknown, the potential, the thrill of a hand of cards gave him a thrill.

“Sirs.” She tipped her head. “When you are ready.”