Page 2 of Pride: Kneel Before None

I’d run into my fair share of vamps, magic-wielders, shifters, and more. Oh, and of course, demons like me were also a large portion of the demographic. Making up the minority were humans who’d been granted sponsorships. You had to know someone who knew someone if you were a human looking to snag a job. Lord forbid there was a biblical famine for vampires or some shit like that.

That wasn’t to say there weren’t humans here on less than legal terms, but what happened in Superbia stayed in Superbia. Including mortal lives feeding the more vulturous population.

Not all the demonic entities were like me, though. The only foreseer I had ever come across here was myself, which made me the best. And also, the prettiest little vision you’d find on this side of the desert. It may not have sounded like a super sexy power, but being able to predict the short-term future had saved my ass more times than I could count. Enhanced physical or metaphysical strength meant nothing if I saw your moves coming a forethought away.

Given that it was my only damn talent, it made others question why the hell my ass was allowed to set foot in this realm at all. Must be because the entities in charge knew I was simply the epitome of perfection. I’d known it all my life; ‘Bout damn time others realized it, too.

“Ain’t nobody that fuckin’ lucky,” grumbled the overly hairy man sitting to my left.

It seems there was a sore loser in my midst.

Shrugging, I idly tinkered with a faded black chip between my fingers. “Care to try and break my streak, Fido?” I challenged.

The werewolf in his human form gave an animalistic growl in irritation at the insulting nickname. He immediately shoved the remaining stash of his money forward on the table.

Hope he isn’t betting his Scooby Snack fund.

Like clockwork, my mind’s eye felt a tingle as my power tapped into the immediate future. A vision of the grand reveal flashed across my sight—the cards flipping, four sevens lying there in my favor, trumping his flush of spades.

With my awareness back in the present, I drew the small red cocktail straw between my teeth and casually drank from the whiskey sour in my hand.

I matched his wager and didn’t bother suppressing the confidence in my smile. This asshole was about to lose everything, and the cards hadn’t even been dealt yet. He must have been a glutton for punishment.

My sapphire eyes lit up with arrogance as the dealer distributed the cards across the felt-lined table. It seemed Mr. Wolf and I were going to be in a poker standoff.

The player shifted in his seat as he checked his cards several times before he shot me a suspicious glare.

“Aren’t you even gonna look at your hand?” he huffed out as his temper grew shorter by the second.

I grinned. “I’ll take my chances.”

Was I toying with him? Absolutely. And I enjoyed every moment.

“Who the hell doesn’t look at their cards?!” he barked out.

When I didn’t answer, he raised his voice and rose from his seat as he jabbed a finger rudely in my direction.

“Look at the cards, you smug bitch!”

So. Fucking. Rude.

I clicked my tongue at him. “It’s not very nice to call a lady names. Didn’t your mother teach you any manners, or were you raised by wolves?” I snickered at the clever little pun.

Judging by the shade of red growing darker by the second on his face, he hadn’t found it very clever at all.

Dramatically, I sighed and revealed my hand, spreading the cards in an even fan on the table. Four sevens. Once again, I was never wrong.

His crimson cheeks turned purple with rage. He roared out in complete fury as he lunged towards me. I didn’t bother flinching at the attempted assault. Before he could lay a paw on me, security intervened and escorted him to the exit.

He was the sixth guy I had gotten thrown out of here this week, and it was only Tuesday. Life was good.

Sucking down the rest of my cocktail, I flipped a few chips to the dealer with a pleasant smile, like this was just another day. For me, it was.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, save me a seat.” I tossed a flirty wink at the baby-faced man who barely looked old enough in human years to drink.

With hope in his eyes, he smiled right back at me. His excitement visibly grew at the prospect that he would deal cards for me another day. “I look forward to it, Miss Bechette,” he meekly responded.

Cute.