Page 82 of Shai

Something gleamed in Shai’s eyes, but it was hard to tell whether it was

satisfaction or something darker. His voice was husky when he spoke, taking on that same hypnotic quality I’d experienced numerous times. “Look at the snake.”

I didn’t want to. I’d much rather look at Shai. But he’d given a

command so it needed to happen. I dropped my gaze to the mamba. It was so close that I could see every individual scale on its body. Shai moved it closer still, and it took everything I had not to back away. I held my ground, my frame wracked by tremors.

It was almost a relief when Shai let go, the snake’s fangs sinking into

the skin just below my left pectoral muscle within seconds. The relief lasted only until the pain hit, a burning sensation radiating out from the puncture wound until my entire chest felt like it was being consumed by fire. I knew the drill by now, so it came as no surprise when the snake detached itself, only to strike again a few inches to the left, my entire body jerking at the impact.

I fastened my gaze on a painting on the other side of the room. It wasn’t a particularly fascinating painting. In fact, I’d often wondered why Shai of all people would choose to have a countryside scene on his walls. It seemed distinctly lacking in skulls or blood. I could only assume that it had to have cost him a fortune, or that it was in some way famous. As a distraction though, it did its job. It gave me something to fixate on other than the snake attached to my flesh.

“Done.”

The word broke me from my stupor, a tugging sensation on my chest indicating that Shai was detaching the snake. Even when it had let go, I kept my eyes on the painting.

“I need to go and put him back.”

Shai left the room and I finally dared to drop my gaze to my chest. Given the overwhelming sensation of heat, I’d expected to see more than the three puncture marks grouped in a small circle. I touched them gingerly, a bead of blood smearing on my fingertips. It seemed so innocuous, but then the snake hadn’t been intent on injury. All it had wanted to do was introduce its venom into my bloodstream. Everything snapped back into clear focus. I needed the antivenom. And for that I needed Shai. Where was he? Why hadn’t he come back? And more importantly, was he coming back? Except I knew he would. Even if his intention was to kill me, he’d want to be there when it happened.

Sure enough, Shai stepped back into the room less than five minutes after his departure. He resumed his seat on the sofa opposite me, his gaze running over the puncture marks in an approving fashion. “You’re very quiet, Elijah.”

“I…” How long had it been since the snake had bitten me? Five minutes? Ten? Longer? How long until the venom took effect? Hadn’t Shai once said that a person could die within twenty minutes? He stared at me curiously, as if he could sense the million questions all zipping through my brain.

I reached out for the vial of antivenom he always wore, but before I made contact, strong fingers wrapped around my wrist and held it firm. “Not yet.”

“No?”

He released my wrist and leaned forward, the amulet dangling between

us like the worst sort of tease. I knew better than to reach for it again, though. “You need to feel it first.” He pressed a hand to my chest, his palm covering the puncture marks, my heart beating like a hammer beneath it. “Trust me, it’s an amazing experience. An experience few ever get to have.” Snared in that deep brown gaze of his, I could almost believe it. “You’ll start to feel it soon. It will creep up on you like the worst sort of predator. And you’ll realize the power of its effect. You’ll realize what an amazing weapon it is to have at your disposal. Far more powerful than a gun or a knife. They don’t carry the same beauty, the same artistry. They’re ugly in comparison. They don’t work from the inside to turn a human body into an empty shell in a matter of hours.”

His words were a twisted sort of poetry. Only, the body he was currently

referring to was mine, and it was impossible to forget that. For the next hour, Shai watched me, his hands sometimes running over my skin. At other times he got up and paced, as if he was impatient for the process to start.

He was pacing now, his long strides taking him from one side of the

room to the other, and then back again, like a caged tiger. “How do you feel, Elijah?”

It was the same question he’d asked at least a dozen times, all previous

queries ending with the same response, that I was fine. It was good that I finally had something to report, something that would no doubt make him happy. “My head hurts and I feel a bit sick.”

He came to an abrupt halt, pivoting and returning to the sofa in a matter

of strides. He sat, grasping hold of my thighs and peering into my face. “That’s it. It’s starting. Keep talking, Elijah.”

About what? All I wanted to do was lie down, my head starting to feel

far too heavy for my neck to be able to support it. I slid down an inch on the sofa, resting back against the cushion. “I need the antivenom. Can you give it to me now?”

“Not yet.”

I was beginning to hate the sound of those two words. Even if Shai’s

intention wasn’t to kill me, then surely there was a risk of it happening anyway if he left it too long before administering the antidote. Given it was the difference between life and death, it wasn’t a risk I was willing to take. But then, I wasn’t in charge. Shai was. He held my life in the palm in his hand. I ignored the little voice in my head desperate to point out that it had always been that way.