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.”