Disclaimer: I do not own the Dark-Hunter Series. If I did, I'd be rich. Also, Acheron would end up sleeping with every man in the story...

Never Bet On a Sure Thing

Chapter 1

"Yo barkeep! Another round!" Acheron shouted, looking at his cards. A pair of queens. Perfect. He studied the woman before him, searching for her tell. What started out as a friendly game of Texas Hold 'em between fellow Dark Hunters, Shifters, and even Daimons had turned frightfully serious as soon as she had joined the game. Once she'd shown up, the four other players had dropped like flies. First to go was Fury, followed by Kyrian, Vane, and the random Daimon stuck at Sanctuary. Now it was just Acheron and the girl.

"Gods, you guys gotta move so I can give 'em their drinks!" one of the Quad shouted, elbowing his way to the table. The crowd of specters parted reluctantly, their eyes riveted on the two at the table. Two bottles of Straubs clinked as the bear set them down. Acheron reached into his pocket for his wallet.

"Thanks man," the woman said, handing the waiter a twenty.

"No prob, V. Let me know if ya want anything stronger, if ya catch my drift."

"Ha. Maybe if I win I'll celebrate with the heavy stuff." Acheron's mouth pulled down in a slight frown. V? What type of name was that? And why was one of the Quad offering her supernatural alcohol? She wasn't human?

"I could've paid for my own drink," He grumbled.

"Eh, my treat. Saves you the trouble of refusing the one from that blonde chick over there." She jerked her head slightly to her right, pointing out a thin blonde in skin-tight clothing.

"What makes you think I'd refuse?"

"My mistake. Feel free to sex her." She threw another thousand dollars worth of chips into the pot. "Call or fold?" What type of hand did this woman have? Acheron sipped his beer, sneaking another glimpse. Was she bluffing? Nothing seemed amiss. No twitching, no change in facial expressions, absolutely nothing. Damn.

"Hey baby, you wanna come home with me afterwards?" a man leered, gripping V's shoulder. His hand slipped lower, resting on her chest. She slapped his hand away. Acheron tensed, preparing for a fight.

"Hey dickhead, why are you covered in beer?"

"Huh, what the fuck? I'm not covered in-" V stood up, dowsing the man with her Straubs. "You little cunt!" he bellowed, storming away. V rolled her eyes, sitting back down in the chair with a thump. The crowd of people hooted and hollered. Wow, that was the seventh man tonight that hit on her. Acheron couldn't blame them. If the circumstances were different, he'd probably try his hand at picking her up. How could he not? She had an aura that screamed sex, but with a hint of 'touch me and die'. Her black hair was cropped short and styled into a fo-hawk, with streaks of sapphire and emerald whispering through it. While her face was surprisingly devoid of makeup, her attire made up for it with its unique gothic flair. A System of a Down t-shirt clung to her curves, highlighting her toned physique while still keeping it feminine. Three studded belts hung about her waist, almost blending seamlessly with the buckles criss-crossing her black pants. She stretched, propping her feet up on the table beside her. Crap, she was even wearing combat boots.

Acheron shifted in his seat. Getting distracted right now wouldn't help his current situation. But Gods, it was so hard not to stare.

"Call, or fold?" she smirked. Damn, why did she have to smirk. All it did was draw attention to her devilish, pixy features. Acheron felt his groin jerk in response. Fuck! Getting hard now wouldn't help at all!

"Call."

Fury dealt the river, revealing another queen. Thank the gods, now he had three of a kind instead of just a pair. He glanced at V again. Nothing. This woman was infuriating. Her level of nonchalance was starting to get on his nerves. She threw even more chips into the pot. God damn it! Acheron took a long drag from his beer.

"So, a little birdie told me you were stealing innocent people's money." Someone teased; sliding into a chair next to V. Acheron looked up and almost choked on his Straubs. Sitting beside V was none other than the Daimon commander, Stryker. The man who was constantly trying to off Acheron and let loose his Daimon armies upon mankind.

"Can it Stryker, I'm busy." V huffed. "Call or check?"

"What? Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

"Call or check?"

"Oh, uh." Acheron was really thrown for a loop. How did V know Stryker? Was she a Daimon? Endless questions sped through Acheron's head, confusing him even more.

"Come on Vega, give the poor guy some time to decide." Stryker smirked. What the hell was that guy doing here? Wait, her name was Vega? "Jeesh Acheron, you don't need to get your boxers in a bunch. I'm not going to violate the rules of Sanctuary, nor am I going to jump you when you leave." Stryker waved a waiter over, ordering another round of beer.

"Huh?"

"Seriously, you look as if you've been asked to eat shit. I'm on vacation. No evil schemes, I swear." One of the Quad arrived with another round of Straubs. Stryker handed him some bills.

"Look, are we going to finish this game or what?" Vega huffed.

"My, my. No need to be so impatient. I believe you need to call or check Acheron?" Stryker brushed some of his shoulder length raven hair out of his face. He handed a beer to Vega, and then set another in front of Acheron.

The Atlantean scowled, grasping at straws. As a last ditch effort, Acheron focused his mind, looking into the future. He was met with a jolt of electricity that seared his mind. A hiss of pain escaped his lips.

"Sorry buff n'stuff, I'm immune to precog abilities." Vega stretched, causing her shirt to rise slightly, baring her midriff. That was it. Acheron couldn't concentrate any longer. Hell, it wasn't like he was hurting for cash.

"All in." He shoved his piles of chips towards the center of the table. Vega arched her brows, the only hint of surprise he'd seen all night. She nudged the rest of her chips into the pot.

"Show me yours and I'll show you mine?" she husked. If only it wasn't cards. He'd show her something all right. His perverted thought caught him by surprise. Such ideas never idly crossed his mind. He really needed to get a grip and cool down. Acheron tossed his cards to Fury, and drained half his beer in one gulp. It didn't help.

"Three queens," the wolf stated, lining them up with the cards on the table. Vega casually flipped her cards over, revealing a king and ace of hearts. Shit. There was a queen, ten, and jack of hearts on the table.

"Royal Flush of Hearts," Fury called, "Vega wins."

The crowd around the table erupted in applause. She reached over to shake Acheron's hand.

"Good game, buff n' stuff." Acheron raised a brow at the odd nickname. She'd been calling him that all night.

"You know, my name's Acheron," he replied.

"I know, but buff n' stuff suits you much better than a fancy name for Hell."

She knew what his name meant?

"What if I am Hell?"

"Trust me, you're nothing compared to Hell." Judging by her expression, she had experience in that department. "Anyways, Drinks on me everyone! C'mon buff n' stuff, let's get shit-faced! Yo Quad!" Four identical men appeared at her side. "Break out the hard stuff, time to celebrate!" Acheron acceded to her demand, letting her lead him towards the bar.

He couldn't remember how much he'd drunk. Sure, he was coherent, and nothing was wobbling, but everything seemed a bit fuzzy. Also, he was happy. So happy he knew it wasn't normal. Acheron paused, his shot-glass halfway to his mouth. Was he buzzed? He shook his head, downing the shot of "enhanced" vodka. It burned down his throat, sending a shiver down his spine.

"Feeling a slight buzz yet buff n' stuff?" Vega asked, turning towards him. Acheron looked at the woman next to him. A myriad of smutty thoughts assaulted his mind. Yep, something was not normal.

"Any idea how much I've drunk?" he asked, almost giggling. Shit. Giggling? What was he, a school girl?

"Well," she giggled. At least he wasn't the only giddy one. "You and I went through a few cases of beer while playing poker, so that's over 60 between the two of us." She counted something on her fingers. "Then we did body shots, so that was a bunch of mixed alcohol. Plus we had that drinking contest with "special" hard booze. I think it was tequila." She accented the word special with air quotations, drawing his gaze towards his chest. He quickly corrected it. Leather pants weren't very forgiving for a hard on. Acheron shifted slightly in his seat. The air was surprisingly warm all of a sudden.

"Yo Stryker, how many bottles of vodka have we gone through?" She asked the man on her other side.

"Well, that shot Acheron just had makes 7." The commander swirled his whisky, staring at the two of them. "I'm surprised you two haven't pissed yourselves with all the drinks you've had." Acheron almost blushed. He had spent a good five minutes just draining his bladder. He snuck a look at Vega. She seemed extremely intrigued with the contents of her glass. Guess he wasn't the only one with extended bathroom visits.

"I propose a toast!" Vega suddenly shouted, refilling Acheron's glass. "To high metabolisms and the inability to pickle our livers with booze!" All of the shifters in the bar raised their glasses. Thankfully the bar had cleared of humans, since it was almost four in the morning. No one could question the strangeness of the toast.

"Here, here!" Acheron replied, slamming down his portion. Shit, if he kept this up he might actually get drunk. Though it was very hard to do so with his metabolism, it wasn't impossible. After all, he'd drunk well over his weight in booze in under five hours. The bathroom visits alone were enough proof of that. He felt like he'd pissed enough to fill the Nile.

"Hey, buff n' stuff." Vega poked him in the side. It tickled.

"Hmmm?"

"How about a friendly bet?" A evil glint sparkled in her merlot eyes. It fueled his interest.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked. She grabbed a wine bottle from one of the bartenders.

"I bet you that I can take a drink from this wine bottle without breaking it or removing the cork."

"Is that so? And what are the terms of this oh so friendly bet?" Acheron couldn't help it, he smirked.

"A kiss to the count of sixty."

Apparently it was a very friendly bet. Maybe he might be able to take care of his little issue downstairs that was developing into a very serious problem. Yeah, these pants were definitely too tight. Heh, this bet was a sure thing. He'd have no trouble winning it.

"I accept your terms. How about we shake on it?"

"We have a bet then."

They locked hands. Vega snagged the bottle, turned it upside down, and poured vodka into the bowl-shaped bottom. She then proceeded to drink from it, unable to hide her smile of triumph. Acheron couldn't believe it. Vega was so cheating. Oh well, no big deal. It's not like it would be a hardship to kiss her. Quite the contrary. His silver eyes smoldered with anticipation.

"I guess I win, buff n' stuff," she laughed.

"Very well, you'll get your kiss."

"Hah, I wish. However, you made one fatal mistake." Huh? What now? Why did he have a feeling he'd overlooked something crucial? His eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. What could it possibly be?

"Oh babe, I never specified the kiss would be for me."

Oh gods no.

Vega clamored up onto the bar, raising her hands above her head. Acheron's stomach dropped with dread.

"Attention everyone, especially the ladies," she called out. "I am in the possession of a lovely kiss with this young man," she gestured towards him Acheron, "lasting exactly sixty seconds. The bidding starts at three hundred dollars."

Acheron put his face in his hands, resisting the urge to strangle Vega or repeatedly beat his head upon the bar counter. He was going to make her pay…one way or another. Several scenarios played through his mind, many including handcuffs and a lovely, secluded location. Preferably a bed.

"Five hundred!" a woman shouted.

"Five hundred! Do I hear five fifty? Five fifty ladies, this man is worth it! Five fifty! I have five fifty. Let's make it six hundred!"

"I'll give you eight!" another shouted.

"Eight hundred! Come on ladies and gents, this is prime stock! Sixty seconds of pure heaven with a sex god! Eight hundred. Do I have nine?" Geesh, she didn't have to enjoy it so much. Honestly, the woman was practically pimping him out, and she appeared to love every moment of it.

"Ooo, two thousand! I have two grand for a minute smooching with Mr. Delicious here! Do I hear twenty one hundred?"

The betting continued on for a couple more minutes, but for Acheron, it seemed like hours. Gods, the embarrassment! Women were screeching like fan-girls, while all of the men were wolf-whistling and hooting with laughter. He'd never live it down.

"I'll give you ten grand if it'll end the poor man's torment." Stryker drawled, stubbing out a cigarette.

Everyone turned to stare at the commander. Acheron looked up. Fuck. Could things get any worse? A woman he could deal with. But a dude? Sure, he'd been bi-curious. However, it was in the past, and something he wouldn't like everyone and their damned uncle to know about. And with the level of booze in his system, he didn't trust himself not to take things too far. Acheron's judgment was fucked up, and he didn't relish making a spectacle of himself with an audience of people armed with phone cameras.

"Ten grand, going once. Twice. Sold! To the evil twin of Acheron himself!" Vega stepped down from her makeshift podium, plucking a check from Stryker mid-jump. "So buff n' stuff, you going to honor the bet?"

Her taunt was met with a crowd of hollering people jockeying for the best position to watch the show.

"I am a man of my word," Acheron scowled, glowering at Stryker. What the hell was the fucking man thinking? Why would he pay to kiss his rival? Tonight was indeed screwed up.

"Well, I made my bed, and now I have to lie in it," Stryker shrugged, striding over to Acheron. "I'll try not to get you hot and bothered."

"Sorry man, but I don't generally swing that way." The crowd leaned in closer, their anticipation palpable. Stryker reached past Acheron, bracing his hands on the bar and pinning the man against it. He spread the Hunter's legs with his knee, sliding his body up against him. Everyone held their breath. Were they going to go through with it?

Suddenly, Stryker dipped his head, capturing Acheron's lips in a kiss that would scorch hell itself. The bar erupted into a cacophony of screams and laughter. Camera phones flashed, instantly uploading pictures onto facebook and the dark-hunter website .

Stryker snaked his had upwards, fisting his hand in Acheron's long onyx and ruby locks. He titled the man's head back, deepening the kiss. Acheron felt odd. Wherever Stryker touched him erupted into a fire of longing. He shouldn't be feeling like that. Acheron had to bite back a moan as his nemesis deepened the kiss, ruthlessly plundering his mouth. He could feel himself hard and straining against the laces of his pants. Stryker pressed Acheron even closer, expertly rubbing his thigh against Acheron's growing desire and tormenting the Atlantean even further. His eyes flew open and he gasped in surprise.

"That's it, submit." Stryker whispered against his lips.

Like hell he was going to submit to Stryker. Defiantly nipping his lips, Acheron picked the man up, carrying him the ten feet to a pool table nearby. The crowd hurriedly parted to make room. Everyone, including Stryker, gasped as Acheron set the commander on the edge of the pool table. He wrapped one of the Daimon's legs around his waist, erotically rubbing against him. Stryker couldn't help it. He groaned softly.

"I think this is much better, don't you?" Acheron whispered, licking Stryker's bottom lip. The Commander's lips parted, allowing Acheron to wreak havoc. His tongue dove inside, engaging Stryker's in a heated battle for dominance. Stryker squirmed slightly. Acheron took is as a sign, sneaking his hand up the back of the man's shirt while the other rested beneath his chin, tilting his head back for better access. The women around them screamed. One of them fainted.

"And that is sixty seconds exactly," Vega shouted, breaking up the gawking crowd. Acheron pulled away, trying hard not to pant. The little show had done nothing to calm down his ardor. If anything, it had stoked the flame into a raging bonfire.

"Hope you all enjoyed the show," he said, sauntering off towards the bathroom. He may have acted like nothing was amiss, but in truth he was a walking tornado of emotion. His desire and thoughts swarmed together in a ball of confusion. How could another man, his enemy mind you, stir up such a response from him? Sure, Stryker was good looking for a guy, but a man who'd spent a few centuries trying to kill him shouldn't be attractive in the least.

Acheron slammed the bathroom door behind him, stalking over to the sink. He splashed some cold water on his face in an attempt to cool his heated blood. It didn't work. Breathing heavily, he gazed up to confront himself in the mirror and found Stryker's face off to his right. He spun around.

"W-what are you doing here?" he stuttered.

"You seemed a bit off. You ok?" concern flitted across the commander's face. Acheron blinked, thinking it was a trick of the light.

"Yeah, just peachy." Zeus, please don't let him see my hard on. Please of please have some mercy for me. Apparently, Zeus wasn't listening to his prayer.

"You don't seem fine to me," Stryker husked, approaching the Hunter "In fact, I'd say you're a bit frustrated." He rested his hand on the fall of Acheron's pants, brushing his aching member gently. Acheron attempted to stifle his moan, but to no avail. He burned. Oh how he burned. Would he ever get relief? He leaned against the sink, bracing his hands on each side of him as his knees threatened to give out under him. Gods above, it felt incredible. He wanted, no needed, more.

Sensing his desperation, Stryker pressed up against him, pressing his lips against Acheron's mouth in a demanding kiss. He gave in, groaning as Stryker thrust his tongue deep inside his mouth. Acheron clutched at his enemy's back, trying to stay upright while he was assaulted with wave after wave of crippling pleasure. Stryker gripped his Acheron's ass, grinding his groin against his own. It was almost too much for Acheron to bear. The Daimon broke the kiss, gasping for air.

"That's right, I'm hot for you too," he panted.

"I-I don't understand…" Acheron managed between breaths.

"I'll show you."

The two men disappeared from the bathroom in a flash of blinding light.

Vega smiled as she sensed Stryker teleporting himself and Acheron to his rental house. Mission accomplished. Stryker deserved to have some fun. He had been mourning the lost of his life partner, Trates, for too long. It was good to see him interested in a man again. She had arranged this evening for his sole benefit. It's not like she needed money, even though she managed to make a pretty penny tonight, well she had spent all of her poker winnings on booze for everyone, but she had made ten grand.

Still smiling, she glanced at the check in her hands. She'd cash it when the bank opened and make a large donation to the homeless shelter. Maybe she'd check on the two lovebirds afterwards. Shaking her head, she grabbed her jacket off the barstool next to her and left Sanctuary.

So tell me what you think! Please comment, since I would like some opinions so I have a general idea of what you would like to see in the next, and final, chapter. Expect a story soon with some drunken romance between Julian and Kyrian, as well as a lovely story between Acheron and Vega...he's only temporarily gay folks! The straight woman in me can't allow him to be gay for an extended period of time. Let me know what ya think!

-BotulismFreak