Eternal Promise

The Underworld

Boden eyed the other men sitting with him, their hands all held close to their chests.

There weren't a lot of things that Boden was good at in this world - fighting, fucking, the occasional basketball game, and poker. Perhaps it was the fact that he had lived so long, but he could always tell a bluff. And that was half the game of poker.

His gaze drifted over to the Ukrainian bouncer, Aleksei, whose stoic features revealed the tiniest lift of an eyebrow. Then Boden surreptitiously glanced at the Armenian bouncer, Vahan, who wore sunglasses and a hat but couldn't hide the irritated tap of his middle finger.

Boden hid the smile that wanted to spread across his mouth by grinding his teeth.

Knowing men's tells meant knowing their weaknesses. He'd had to learn such a skill eons ago when he was just a young man and forced to fight for others' enjoyment. Recognizing another gladiator's tells could mean the difference between life and death.

"Verdict, gentlemen?" his deep voice growled around the circle of men.

Cigar and cigarette smoke filled the back room like mist, almost choking out the scents of expensive liquor and cheap cologne.

A tense moment of silence wafted through the group before the six men all laid down their cards.

Boden finally allowed the smile inside of him to transform his entire face as he triumphantly held up the winning hand. Groans, shouts, and three different languages cursing him widened his smile even further.

"Not all of us can be winners, gentlemen," he gloated as he pulled the stack of cash towards him.

Aleksei cursed loudly, "Po'shyol 'na hui."

Boden didn't need to know Russian to chuckle at the insult.

"Every fucking time, mate," Will, the man next to him, said. Will was actually a Brit, one of the few who actually worked at Under.

"Can't say I didn't warn you," Boden reminded his English friend.

"Yeah, but I'm tired of losing my drinking money."

Vahan was less amused. "How are you so good at this game?"

It sounded innocent enough of a question but Boden noted the Armenian's clenched jaw and tightly fisted hand on the table.

Boden had been at the club for several months but he was still learning all of the politics. From what he had gathered, Vahan was a veteran; a mean son-of-a-bitch who could feel easily threatened by other animals at the watering hole.

Backing off his smile just a little, Boden replied nonchalantly, "Too many years of practice."

Even with the sunglasses, Boden could feel the Armenian's eyes narrow in suspicion.

It made sense. Most people looked at Boden and surmised that he couldn't be older than 35. And they were right. But he had been 35 for almost two millennia.

"Where did you say you were from again?" Vahan probed.

Boden did his best to hide the tension that had suddenly hit his entire body. "All over the world. Father was in the military."

It wasn't a lie per se. Boden had lived all over the world during his two thousand years of life. Plus, his father had been a very powerful military leader in their tribe. But he had been alive around the same time as Jesus.

Vahan's disbelieving brow lifted. "A nomad."

Boden grinned. "I prefer the term 'explorer.'"

All of the other men chuckled except for Vahan.