Page 13 of Enemy of the State

“That’s what I thought.” Resigned, he holds his hand out to Honey Eyes, who passes him the mystery box.

He takes a knee, his large frame now folding in half so that he’snow eye-level with me. He carefully removes the lid to the small box, and I shift forward, peering inside. What I see has my internal excitement meter reaching new heights.

“Is that a yellow fattail scorpion?” I inquire, barely containing my awe. Those incredible, hearty little creatures are hard to come by, and I’ve never seen one in real life. They’re magnificent, if you’re into tiny venomous beings with impressive exoskeletons, which I am. Really, I’m into anything with venom and poison pumping through their veins. I feel as if I can relate to those buggers, you know?

Tamping down my buzzing sense of exhilaration, I question, “Can I pet it?”

Digs’s head flies up, his blade-colored eyes widening briefly as they meet mine. Just as quickly, his gaze sharpens and narrows as he growls, “No, and if you don’t tell me what I want to know, you won’t get the antivenom if he stings you.”

I roll my eyes dramatically as I sigh. “Of course it’s a male. Did you know that female yellow fattails eat their male partners if they don’t satisfy them during mateship?” I ask, waggling my eyebrows.

“Uh, no, I didn’t know that.”

“I do the same thing.” I bare my teeth and clash my teeth together a few times in a mock display of biting.

Against the wall, Honey Eyes starts chuckling, his laughter growing louder, and I shoot him a wink. I think he presumes I’m kidding, but I’m sort of not. I really did kill a man once after failing to make me climax. In my defense, he was my target before I ever climbed into bed with him. But his lack of bedroom skills certainly made that elimination more satisfying.

“Lou,” Digs chastises on an exhale.

“Yes?”

“Are you going to tell me what I want to know?”

“I think you should refresh my memory. I seem to have forgotten the question since yesterday and the day before that, and the day before that, and the day—”

“We get it,” Digs says, cutting me off. “What’s the next target?”

Wow, I can’t believe the bellend fell for that. I say nothing, my face a mask of blandness.

He doesn’t speak as he tilts the box so that the Androctonus shuffles out of his home, his tiny feet dancing across my exposed forearm. The hairs covering the scorpion’s legs brush against my own pale olive skin.

Marveling at the little monster the size of my hand as he skitters across my arm, I smile down at him. As arguably the deadliest scorpion, surpassing the Deathstalker in terms of venom, he’s a sight to behold.

I won’t die today, at least this way. I know this for two reasons. The first being that Digs won’t kill me until I tell him what he wants to know. Secondly, because I do not intend to make this little guy crawling around on my body feel threatened in the slightest. I maintain a steady rhythm of breathing, careful not to cause a spike in my heart rate. This scorpion poses no threat to me, and I would rather rip off more of my toenails than hurt him.

I’m not incapable of feeling fear, not by a long shot. I’ve been in terrifying situations before, but none of those have happened since I’ve been here. No, to get to me, you’d have to reach my heart, but I cut off all communication with that disastrous, wayward organ within my chest a long time ago. She’s dead to me, entombed within its ivory coffin, at least where human beings are concerned. So, this scorpion isn’t the danger that these men think he is.

All three of us watch the fattail scorpion fall from my arm to my thigh, thankfully landing on his feet. The room is silent as the miniscule beast pitter-patters over the curves of my thighs that I keep tightly jammed together.

Horror jolts my senses as Digs pulls a lighter from his trousers pocket and flicks it open.

No, no, no.

“Don’t hurt him,” I rush out to stop him, while feverishly attempting to keep my body’s rhythms steady. No way am I going to sit by while I watch him light this little guy on fire. Keeping my gaze on the critter on my lap, I analyze the scorpion’s body language, ensuring the hiccup in my pulse isn’t setting him off.

Glancing up at Digs, while keeping one eye on the venomous creature, his masked head tilts to the side as he studies me, his expression curious and slightly dubious. I clarify by adding, “Don’t hurt him. If you want to hurt me, burn me, watch my skin melt, cut me open and make me bleed, be my fucking guest, but put the scorpion away first.”

His expression morphs into one of surprise and mild confusion. “Will you tell me what I want to know?”

I thought this might be a problem; nonetheless, I reply honestly. “Likely not, but that’s still no reason to drag an innocent animal into our toxic dynamic.”

His face gives nothing away as he stares at me for one, two, three beats. Eventually, he holds out his hand, and Honey Eyes pushes off the wall and once again places the box in Digs’s waiting palm. I swear Honey Eyes smiles behind that mask of his, but even if I’m wrong, his eyes certainly beam sunshine. Well, until he winks at me. I don’t respond—not with my eyes or otherwise—since I don’t want to push my luck.

Digs gently coaxes the golden-colored scorpion back into the box, thank fuck, and shuts the lid, passing it back to Honey Eyes. My body sags, my lungs burning slightly as I release a full breath. Digs grows to his full height, which is mammoth tall, considering that I’m average height for a woman and he towers over me even when I’m on my feet.

His hulking frame marches over to the wall, and he snatches a blowtorch from the shelf.Oh, fuck me, this is going to hurt like a right bitch.

I was right. It hurt. Hurt like hell incarnate. I have a gash on the inside of my cheek and laceration on my lower lip to prove that I used and abused my own mouth like it was a leather bit. Leather would be preferable next time. I think I’ll be tasting the metallic effects for weeks to come.Good thing the food here is bland.

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