Page 12 of Shai

Tears streamed down his cheeks and I watched them dispassionately. I always found this bit fascinating—in the way that reactions varied so much. Sometimes they were stoic to the point where they may as well have been a mannequin. Sometimes they were rebellious, throwing epithets out that they would never have dared to say to my face previously. But mostly they cried, grown men reduced to tears as they were forced to face the consequences of their actions.

I moved the snake closer, drawing the moment out, the muscles beneath

my fingers working that bit harder as the snake sensed a victim. The only question left was which part of the body I would steer it toward. In the end, I settled on his upper arm. I released my grip ever so slightly, the mamba doing the rest, its head darting forward and its fangs sinking easily into the soft flesh of Isaac’s biceps. He gave a strangled moan, his gaze fixed on a point elsewhere in the room, as if not looking somehow made it easier.

The beautiful thing about a black mamba was that they didn’t just bite

once. They struck a number of times, each bite pushing more venom into their victim. You could never accuse a mamba of not being thorough in its determination to kill. I let him bite four times before tightening my grip and pulling the mamba’s head away. Job done, I returned him to the tank, dropping him from a height so that he didn’t get a chance to turn on me until the lid was already in place and it was too late.

Isaac already didn’t look so good, his face waxy and his eyes glassy.

Crouching in front of him, I examined the incisions on his arm. They were tiny, only a few drops of blood oozing from each one. It never ceased to amaze me how something so small could have such a huge effect. And it was that effect I was waiting for. “Can you feel it yet?”

He lifted his head at my question, the pleading expression gone now

that we were past that point, leaving only emptiness. He opened his mouth, but when nothing came out, I answered the question for him. “Probably not.” I waved a hand over his arm. “At this stage, there’s usually nothing more than a tingling sensation at the bite mark. Do you have that?” He stared at me, making no attempt to nod or shake his head. “Most people start to feel it within ten minutes. You might get a metallic taste in your mouth, and your eyelids will probably start to droop like you’re going to go to sleep. Your vision will start to blur. Then, it’s a bit of a lottery what comes next. You might become nauseous and vomit.”

I lowered my hand, pressing it over his abdomen. “You might get pain

here, or have a sudden bout of diarrhea. Or you might just be lucky and slip into a coma before your lungs start to fail. Without the antivenom”—I automatically grasped hold of the small vial I always wore around my neck —“death usually occurs within seven hours, but I’ve seen some men hang on for close to fifteen.” Turning my wrist around, I made a show out of checking the time. “How long do you think you’ll last?”

He made a clumsy grab for the vial, his grasping fingers all too easy to avoid. “Ach, that’s not for you. What would be the point in letting the snake bite you, only to give you the antivenom?”

“To… teach… me… a… lesson.” His voice was strained, his breathing labored. At this point, it was probably more from panic. It was too early for respiratory failure to have kicked in. Although, occasionally it did happen disappointingly fast.

I shook my head slowly. “You’ve seen me do this to other men. That was your lesson.” I leaned closer, our noses almost touching, the smell of his sweat filling my nostrils. “You didn’t learn it, did you?”

“Do you still need us, Shai?”

I’d almost forgotten that Taylor and Wyatt were in the room. They’d stayed in case Isaac had had any ridiculous ideas to make a run for it. Their presence reminded me of the other person in the room. “No, you can go.” My answer was for Taylor, but my gaze had moved to where an ashen-faced Elijah had slid to a seated position, his back propped against the wall. He looked almost as bad as the man now curled up in a fetal position at my feet. Isaac’s eyes were closed, as if he was hoping he could simply go to sleep and never wake up.

I gave him an experimental nudge with my foot. He didn’t so much as stir. Well, that was boring. I liked it when they got to the point of feeling they had nothing to lose. One man had managed to get hold of a poker. He’d come at me, trying to take me down before his limbs buckled under the effects of the venom. His attempt might not have been successful, but it had definitely been entertaining. I’d laughed as I’d easily avoided the wild swings of the poker aimed at me, not one blow finding its mark before he’d dropped like a stone.

With one last glance at the man at my feet, I turned my attention to Elijah. “Where were we?”

He shook his head mutely with no sign of his earlier antagonism. That too, was disappointing. I’d had high hopes of him maintaining his rebellion. “Ah yes, the test. You’ve just had a little taste of it.”

He raised his head at that, his gaze focusing on me. “What?”

I walked over to him, fishing in my pocket for the golden coin I always

carried on my person. I turned it over and over in my fingers so that the two sides alternated, Elijah’s gaze following the movement. I held it up so that he could see one side before flipping it to the opposite one. “Heads is my darling, Nyoko, which is the cobra in case you haven’t already worked it out.” I jerked my head toward the tank I’d just placed the black mamba in. “Tails is our friend there.”

Elijah’s brow furrowed, a muscle in his cheek spasming wildly. “What

do you mean?”

I smiled down at him. I always enjoyed this part. “We have a tradition

here, a kind of initiation ceremony if you like. You spend a night in a room with one of my friends.” I trailed my fingers over the dark lines of the tattoo etched on my chest. “Most people have a preference for Nyoko. And I can certainly confirm that more people make it through the night with her.” I dropped to my haunches in front of him, balancing the coin on my thumb and forefinger. “Are you ready to discover your fate?”

Elijah stared at me, his breathing more labored than that of the poor sap

lying on the floor. Unable to resist, I dragged a finger down his clammy cheek. “If it helps, I’m rooting for you. I have plans for you beyond finding your corpse in the morning.”

Elijah swallowed, making a meal out of the simple movement. It made

me wish I’d had my hand wrapped around his throat to feel the movement of the muscles beneath my fingers. “If that’s the case”—he swallowed again —“then you could skip it. It could be our little secret.” His gaze darted across the room to the prone figure on the floor, a rasping groan coming from Isaac’s mouth at that exact moment. “I’ve seen what happens to people if they try and leave. I’m not that stupid.” He tilted his face up, the distinctly flirtatious expression completely at odds with the sheen of sweat covering his brow. “You said it yourself, that you have other plans for me. It would be a shame for us not to explore this thing between us, right?”