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And around and around the merry-go-round went.

“Tell me,” he growled.

“Your uncle grows strong.”

“Does he.” He rewarded her with a quick, nasty penetration, and she gasped. “Why’s that?”

“Two nights ago . . .” Her breath sawed out of her mouth, as her spine torqued to accept him in the deepest way possible. “He was crowned.”

Rehv lost his rhythm. Shit. A change in leadership was not good. The symphaths might be stuck in that colony, isolated from the real world, but any political instability there threatened what precious little control of them there was.

“We need you,” she said, reaching behind her and sinking her nails into his ass. “To do what you do best.”

No. Fucking. Way.

He’d killed enough relatives.

She glanced over her shoulder, and the scorpion in her ear stared at him hard, its spindly legs pinwheeling, reaching out to him. “I’ve given you the why. So get on with it.”

Rehv put his brain on lockdown, focused on the scene of the beach, and let his body do its thing. Under his pounding rhythm, the Princess orgasmed, her body gripping him in a series of pulses that were like a fist twisting his cock in a vise.

Which was what made his sex catch hold of her inside and fill her up.

He pulled out as soon as he was able and started on the slide into hell. Already, he could feel the effect of the venom on that damn mesh. His body was tingling all over, the nerve endings in his skin blinking on and off in spasms of pain. It was only going to get worse.

The Princess righted herself and went to her gown. From a hidden pocket, she took out a long length of wide red satin, and with her eyes locked on him, she threaded the cloth between her legs and tied it in an elaborate series of bows.

Her ruby eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she made sure not a drop of him escaped her.

He hated that, and she knew it, which was why she never complained when he pulled out fast. She knew damn well he wanted to shove her in a bleach bath and make her wash until the sex was gone from her as if it had never been.

“Where is my tithe?” she said as she drew on her gown.

His vision was doubling up from the venom as he went over to his jacket and took out a small velvet bag. He tossed it over to her and she caught it.

Inside was two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in rubies. Cut. Ready to be set.

“You need to come home.”

He was too tired to play the game. “That colony is not my home.”

“Wrong. So very wrong. But you’ll come around. I guarantee it.” On that she disappeared into thin air.

Rehv sagged, planting his palm onto the cabin’s wall as a black wave of exhaustion shot through him.

As the door opened, he righted himself and picked up his pants. Trez said nothing, just came over and steadied him.

Sick as he was, and would become, he himself put his clothes on. That was important to him. He always did that himself.

When his jacket was back in place and his tie looped around his neck and his cane in his hand, his best friend and bodyguard scooped him up and carried him like a child back to his car.

Chapter Thirty-six

Stress in a person was like air in a balloon. Too much pressure, too much shit, too much bad news ... and the birthday party gets messy.

Phury ripped open his bedside table drawer even though he’d just looked in it. “Shit.”

Where the fuck was all his red smoke?

He took his near-empty Baggie out of his breast pocket. Barely enough for a thin one. Which meant he’d better hightail it down to ZeroSum before the Reverend closed for the night.

He pulled on his light jacket so that he’d have someplace to hide the full bag when he came back, then jogged down the grand staircase. As he hit the foyer, his head was alive and writhing, swelling up with the wizard’s Top Ten Reasons Phury, Son of Ahgony, Is a Shithead.

Number ten: Manages to get self kicked out of Brotherhood. Number nine: Drug addict. Number eight: Fights with twin when twin’s pregnant shellan is in a bad way. Number seven: Drug addict. Number six: Shits on female he