“Good deal.”
TELL ME YOU’RE UNMEDICATED.
Rehv clapped the guy on the shoulder. “As of an hour ago. And yes, I have the antivenom.”
GOOD. DRIVE SAFELY, ASSHOLE.
“No. I’m going to aim for logging trucks and stray deer.”
Trez shut the door and took a step back. As he crossed his arms over his massive chest, he cracked a rare smile, his white fangs glowing against his dark, beautiful face. For a split second, his eyes flashed brilliant peridot green-the Moorish equivalent of a wink.
As Rehvenge took off, he was glad Trez backed him up. The Moor and his brother, iAm, had a bag of fancy tricks that would challenge even a symphath. They were, after all, royal members of the s’Hisbe of Shadows.
Rehv glanced at the Bentley’s clock. He was due to meet the Princess at one a.m. Considering it was a two-hour trip north and it was now eleven fifteen, he was going to have to drive like a bat out of hell.
As he took off, he thought about Xhex. He didn’t want to know how she knew about the sex… hoped like hell she continued to respect his wishes and not show up and hang in the shadows.
He hated that she knew he was nothing but a whore.
On one hand, Phury couldn’t believe that the words “I am a virgin” had come out of his mouth. On another, he was glad he’d said them.
He had no idea what Cormia thought, though. She was dead quiet.
He pulled back just enough so he could stuff his sex back in his pants and zip up, then he righted her robe, bringing the two halves together and covering her beautiful body up.
In the silence between them, he paced around the room, going from the door to the far wall and back.
Her eyes watched his every move. God, what the hell was she thinking?
“I suppose it shouldn’t matter,” he said. “I don’t know why I brought it up.”
“How is it possible… I’m sorry. That’s so inappropriate-”
“No, I don’t mind explaining.” He paused, unsure as to whether she’d read about Zsadist’s past. “I took a vow of celibacy when I was young. To make me stronger. And I stuck to it.”
Not quite, mate, the wizard chimed in. Tell her about the whore, why don’t you. Tell her about the prostitute that you bought at ZeroSum and took into a bathroom and couldn’t finish with.
How typical of you to be exceptional in that manner. The only soiled virgin on the planet.
Phury stopped in front of his drawing on the blackboard. He’d ruined everything.
Picking up a piece of chalk, he started at her feet, beginning to draw the ivy leaves.
“What are you doing?” she said. “You’re ruining it.”
Ah, lass, the wizard answered. However good he is at drawing, he’s better at ruination.
Before long, the stunning figure of her was covered with a blanket of ivy leaves. When he was finished, he stepped back from the board. “I tried sex once. And it didn’t work out.”
“Why not?” she asked in a tight voice.
“It wasn’t right. It wasn’t a good choice. I stopped.”
There was a pause and then a shuffling sound as she got off the table. “Just as it was now with me.”
He spun around. “No, that isn’t-”
“You stopped, didn’t you. You chose not to go on.”
“Cormia, it’s not that-”
“Who are you saving yourself for?” Her eyes were smart as hell as she looked at him. “Or is it more like what? Is it the fantasy you have of Bella? Is that what’s stopping you? If it is, I feel sorry for the Chosen. But if the celibacy is to keep yourself insulated and safe, I feel sorry for you. That strength is a lie.”
She was right. Fuck him, but she was so right.
Cormia coiled up her hair and regarded him with a queen’s dignity as she pinned it in place. “I’m going back to the Sanctuary. I wish you well.”
As she turned away, he jogged over to her. “Cormia, wait-”
She took her arm away when he tried to take it. “Why should I wait? What precisely is going to change? Nothing. Go be with the others. If you can. And if you can’t, you need to step down so someone else can be the strength the race needs.”
She clapped the door shut behind her.
Standing in the empty classroom, with the wizard’s laughter ringing in his ears, Phury closed his eyes and felt the world shrink down all around him until his past and his present and his future were choking him of breath… turning him into one of the statues in his family’s overgrown, dead garden.
That strength is a lie…
In the silence that surrounded him, her words just kept replaying in his head, over and over again.
Chapter Thirty-three
"This is just a club,” the Omega’s son said, his voice at once defeated and annoyed.
Mr. D turned off the Focus’s wheezer of an engine and looked over. “Yup. And we’re going to get you what you need here.”
They’d been driving around aimlessly for quite a while, because the Omega’s son couldn’t stop throwing up. The last heaving session had been about forty minutes ago, though, so Mr. D was pretty sure things had done settled some. Hard to know whether the pukin’ were because of what the son had had to do or on account of his induction. Either way, Mr. D had taken care of him, even holding the son’s head up at one point, because the guy had been too weak to do it himself.
Screamer’s was the right place for them to be hauntin’. Even though the son of the Evil wouldn’t be able to eat or have sex, there was one sure thing they would find here: drunken human males what could be used as punching bags.
Tired and overwrought as the son was, he had power in his veins, power that needed to be triggered. The club and its idiots were the gun. The son was the bullet.
And a fight would revive things real good. “Come on, now,” Mr. D said, getting out.
“This is bullshit.” The words mighta sounded strong, but the tone was still that of a guy whose grain silo was empty.
“It ain’t.” Mr. D walked around, opened the son’s door, and helped him out. "Y’all gotta trust me.”
They walked across the street to the club, and when the bouncer at the head of the wait line glared at Mr. D, he slipped the big man a fifty, which got them in.
“We gonna just have a hang-around,” Mr. D said as he took them through the crowd and over to the bar.
All through the club, hard-core rap thumped, while women dressed in bits of leather paraded by on cock patrol and men glared at one another.
He knew he’d done right when the son’s eyes rifle-sighted a group of college-y guys who was barking loudly and sucking back hot sauce in martini glasses.
“Yup, we just havin’ ourselves a little breather,” Mr. D said with satisfaction.
The bartender came by. “Whatchu want?”
Mr. D smiled. “Nothing for us-”
“Shot of Patrón,” the son said.
As the bartender went off, Mr. D leaned in. “You can’t eat no more. No drinking ’n’ no sex neither.”
The son’s pale eyes shot over to him. “What? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No, suh, that’s the way-”
“Yeah, fuck that.” When the shot glass came down for a landing, the son said to the bartender, “Start a tab.”
Lash tossed back the tequila while glaring at Mr. D.
Mr. D shook his head and started scouting for the bathroom. Yeah, boy, when he’d tried the food routine he’d ended up hurling for an hour, and hadn’t they already done enough of that tonight?
“Where’s my second,” Lash barked out to the bartender.
Mr. D swiveled his head back around. The Omega’s son was standing there, happy as you please, tapping his fingers on the bar. The second shot came. Then the third.
After the fourth was ordered, Lash’s pale eyes slid over, aggression flaring in them. “So what was this about no eating and no drinking?”
Mr. D couldn’t decide whether he was looking at a bomb about to go off… or a miracle. No lessers were able to take food and drink once they’d been turned. The Omega’s black blood nourished them and was incompatible with anything else. All they needed to survive was a couple of hours of rest every day.