Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103719 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103719 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
None of that really mattered, though.
Not like his young.
Pivoting around, he stared at the wall of glass cages. The reptile enclosures were stacked together, eight across the bottom, six running up vertically. Each one had several heat lamps, at least four inches of soil or sand for burrowing, a hiding spot or two, foliage, and a water dish.
Fifty-seven white scorpions, collected over his lifetime, interbred as appropriate, with their venom collected and stored.
They were the only young he would ever have, and he cherished them as a parent would, tending to not just their basic needs, but nurturing their growth and development—and mourning their passings as they came.
Narrowing his eyes, he felt a creeping paranoia latch on to the nape of his neck. Though he was not a male who was at a loss very often, his throat grew tight. If he died tonight, he did not know who would feed them, and he imagined, under the lamps, with no fresh water or food supply, they would die fast. Unlike scorpions in the wild, his all contained recessive genes that made them more potent, but also more vulnerable.
Trying to collect himself, he went over to the left. His favorite was the smallest of the collection, but then, in their kind, size was the inverse to deadly danger. The big ones had the weaker stings.
“You are the queen, aren’t you,” he whispered as he tapped the glass.
The predator on the other side of the pane shifted her body around and stared at him. She was beautiful, white as driven snow, and he’d always found her elegant, her segmented stinger curling up over her back, a fascinator that packed a punch, her pincers curving like a rococo sculpture.
“I’ll need you later. But not right now.”
As a symphath, he had to regulate himself if he went out into the world. Yes, he was part vampire, but unlike his sister, the evil side in him was more dispositive, and given the purpose that had animated him all these years, he’d had to have control as he worked with humans to accomplish his goals. The venom was the key for him. Back when the Princess had been alive, he had been in charge of her stable of scorpions, feeding them, caring for them—and of course he’d been stung. That was how he’d learned that the poison had its benefits.
And he had used them.
Not tonight, however. He needed to be at his full potency as he went out on this mission that could well be his last—either because he was killed in action… or because the final lab was taken out.
“Be well, leelan—”
“You expecting a response from that thing?”
At the male voice, Blade smiled in a nasty fashion, and turned back around. “The King has arrived. To what do I owe this honor?”
Rehvenge stood in the doorway of the quarters, all amethyst eyes and majestic menace. The male, who was also a half-breed, had his own way of controlling his urges in mixed company, but he never, ever came down here medicated. And instead of the long mink coat and nice silk suit he sported in Caldwell, the male was wearing a white sheath that fell from a short collar down to his loafers. Mounted on the satin, in a pattern of swirls and straightaways, were countless rubies, their facets and pigeon-blood color catching the subtle light and magnifying it back in such a way that he appeared to gleam.
“People who talk to pets,” Rehvenge said as he entered without invitation, “have anthropomorphized animals—or in your case, arachnids, to be specific.”
“These are not my pets.”
“The Princess has been dead for how long?” The King made a show of looking at the cages. “With her gone, the only explanation for this continued husbandry is that you’ve formed an attachment of some sort. There is no longer any duty for you to uphold.”
Blade continued to smile, though in his heart, a dark hatred kindled. But then that emotion was exactly what the King was hoping to elicit, and therefore, it was easily corralled.
“Habits die hard,” he murmured.
“Perhaps I need to give you a job.”
“I am ready for my orders.” Blade bowed slightly. “Whatever shall you have me do, my Lord—”
The King moved so fast, he was untrackable. One moment Rehvenge was over by the door; the next, he was right up in Blade’s face, looking like he was prepared to bite something until he got to bone—after which, he would keep going.
Blade purred in the back of his throat. “I had heard you were happily mated, but mayhap the gossip is wrong. Would you like me on my knees? Or were you planning on forcing me to accept you in another fashion? I am a top, but as you are my King, I believe no is not an option.”