We all wiped tears from our eyes.

My sides hurt from laughing so hard. I lifted my shirt and checked to see whether any of the stitches from my kidney operation had popped out—nope, all good. I tried to lift Mr. Hardon's shirt, but he slapped my hand away and insisted he would do it himself, thanks. The week prior, I'd given him a kidney, as he'd killed both his own through years of excessive drinking and high-fructose corn syrup.

It made sense Mr. Hardon was a psychotherapist. The only person you'd really want analyzing your problems was someone who had a long history of their own, problems that very well may be worse than yours.

I knew from spending long, cold nights huddled up against Mr. Hardon's backside for warmth that he sucked his thumb while he slept, and he had the tendency to mutter dreamily about "Mommy" and "Daddy," and "the bad man with the cowboy hat who shot Andy."

"Wow, that was great, Coltrane," I said, now that everyone had finished laughing.

Coltrane pooched out his lips and nodded with pride. "Yeah, 'twas a'ight."

Squinting in a fiery manner, Seth stared deep into his boyfriend's eyes. "I thought it was amazing. You're so sexy when you tell stories about bj's."

"Well, I gotta lotta experience, babe." He winked.

The pair made out some more, while the rest of us nibbled on candy and tried to ignore it. They were the only couple in our group—the rest of us, if we'd had any, had lost our partners in the Civil War of 2016.

"I got thtory," Murv said, drool flooding from his mouth. I knew the man was brain-damaged and mostly blind from a life of drinking his own homemade moonshine. I also knew his whole family died tragically when his moonshine distillery exploded. "My thtory good. My thtory bigly."

The rest of the gang and I shared knowing glances.

"You don't have to," Andrea said, patting Murv on the head. She'd been a kindergarten teacher in the pre–President Trump world, before all the schools were shut down and education was outlawed. She was used to dealing with those who had sub–grade school intelligence. "Look!" She dug around her purse and pulled out a keychain. "Murv! A toy!" She jingled the keys.

Murv grinned and laughed and clapped. He pawed at the keys. It seemed he realized he was being trivialized, as he suddenly pouted and crossed his arms. "My thtory need tolding. You lithen. You lithen bigly now." A strange look crossed his face, possibly the ghost of his previous intellect. His eyes went bright like he knew the secrets of the universe, and when he made eye contact with us, we felt the need to glance away in shame. When he next spoke, his voice had changed, grown more adult: "Listen up, whippersnappers. My story is called

MY POISON KISS DOTH PURIFY by Holly_Gonzalez

Strobe lights flashed, electronic drums thumping. Sybelle claimed the stage as the dancers whirled aside, their nude bodies aglow in neon. The audience clapped and hollered. Another night, another spectacle to please the Cartel. At least Sybelle's performances earned enough to spare her from prostitution. Most of the women onstage weren't so lucky. Silver slave torcs gleamed around their necks, a reminder they were all prisoners. The Cartel pirates owned everything aboard Delirium 8, this corrupt pleasure station at the farthest bounds of the Star-ways.

Sheer veils drifted around Sybelle's slender figure as she swayed. Golden scales striped her face and limbs. She arched her back, and her hair fell in a lustrous black curtain to the floor. Pivoting on one nimble foot, she writhed before the drunken onlookers, and wireless tips flooded the currency drive embedded in her torc. All profit for the Cartel, her iron-fisted masters. Only a little trickled into Sybelle's account. Regardless, she'd saved for five years and almost had enough to buy her freedom.

The rhythm reached its crescendo. Time for her finale—the revelation. She peeled her translucent gown away, and it dripped to the floor. She might have passed for a full-blooded human if it wasn't for the coiling snakes which were her arms.

Gasps and sighs ensued.

A drunk man shouted, "A Venomisan wench! Forsooth, a fine pair o' tits for a snake."

Another hissed, mocking Sybelle. "Forsooth nothin'. Snakes don't got tits."

Their laughter didn't faze her. She twirled her serpent hands and closed her eyes. The Cartel controlled her body, but they'd never conquered her spirit.

The dance ended, and Sybelle slipped her gown on. The crowd shouted for her to stay naked. Let them clamor for what they can't have. She sauntered to the bar, her copper skin damp from exertion. Behind the counter she stored her robotic prosthesis between shows. She retrieved it and slipped the metallic gauntlet over her left hand—the snake which struck with antidote. The lethal venom of her right she kept uncovered for defense.

Her titanium fingers clinked against the wine glass the bartender offered. As she sipped, her torc hummed and blinked. Damn. The Boss wanted to see her. With a sigh she headed upstairs to the VIP lounge.

Boss Eljax sagged in his usual chair, surrounded by buxom slave girls. Eight tuliped ears pricked forward around his broad Rethnarian face, his single bulbous eye ogling Sybelle as she entered.

Sybelle knelt in submission, though she wanted to strike Eljax with her poison, to make him pay for killing her father and abducting her into slavery. "You summoned me, Master?"

The Boss's deep voice gurgled. "Got a job for you." He tossed a key at her. "Third floor, cubicle eight. Honored client. Do him right, or it's a month in the dreg pit for you. Got it?"

"What? My contract states I'm exempt. I'm a dancer, not a whore."

"You're a whore if I say you are." Boss Eljax lurched to his feet, so tall that his head scraped the ceiling. He pointed at the door, and his four thick tails lashed behind him. "This client's asked specifically for you. Get to it before I flay you." His long claws clacked menacingly. Those same claws had once gashed her father's throat.

Obstinance sank into her churning gut. She slowly scooped up the key and bowed. "Yes, Master."

***

Sybelle ignored the curious stares of the prostitutes as she stormed down the corridor. When she reached the client's room, she slipped the key into the lock. She slammed the door behind her, not caring what anyone thought. She was above chattel work. This client must be elite for the Boss to waive her contract.

A smooth baritone sliced the air. "Well, if it isn't the runaway princess."

So familiar. Sybelle's heart leaped at the sound. "How do you know about that?"

"I know all about you." On the spartan bed platform, the darkened room's only furniture, a man sat with his broad shoulders propped against the wall. Tall boots and leather pants adorned his legs, shirt unbuttoned over his contoured chest, a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his features. Sinuous tendrils writhed in the ponytail tied at his nape, his onyx skin patched with glistening crimson scales. He exhaled a spiced vapor from his atomizer. Around his neck hung a silver pendant fashioned into a pair of looped serpents: one a skeletal effigy; the other a living creature with a ruby inlaid in place of its eye—Orobora, the symbol of the Kashtenai, the ruling Purebred clan on Venomis.

Her jaw dropped as he stood and approached. "Who are you?"

"Someone who's searched the Star-ways to find you." The stranger lifted his head, revealing his smooth, angled jaw, his lips etched in a grin. Two fangs pointed among his fine white teeth, and a forked tongue flicked between them. His eyes slanted like emerald blades stained with mischief, the slitted pupils widening.

She uttered the man's name with halted breath. "Leeyam?"

Leeyam tossed his hat onto the bed. "Hello, sweet wife."

She rushed into his arms. Tears flowed, a human trait he didn't possess. "I thought you were dead. In the Seragon system... that botched attempt of yours to rescue me from the Cartel... I saw your ship explode."

He traced a finger down her face. His hands were humanoid, unlike the snake-arm mutation of her own hybrid clan, the Azerat. A noticeable gulp flexed the spines along his muscled neck. "I survived the crash on Seragon and was marooned there for several months. A crew of malexite smugglers rescued me. Since then, not a day has passed that I haven't hunted for you."

Sybelle bit her lip until her small fangs pricked her skin. Leeyam's closeness always made her vulnerable, as if she could confess anything. She wanted to kiss him, slap him for being a fool, and cower in shame all at once. "Why have you pursued me, after I abandoned our marriage and fled from the Kashtenai inquisition with my father? Anyone with common sense would have given up by now."

"My beautiful Azerat-Sybella. We were forced into marriage by our families, strangers from the outset, but in time I discovered how magnificent you are. Your cleverness, your will to be free, your wit, and your other delicious qualities all captured my heart." His eyes traveled over her figure, lingering upon the slave torc. "When I heard you'd been taken by the Cartel, I vowed to save you." He hung his head. "If you'll accept me as I am and come home with me, we can change Venomis together."

She slithered her arms around him. "I once despised you for being a Purebred, but I see the error of my prejudice now. You were always gentle and brave. A good husband, better than I deserve. I just..."

He brushed an ebon lock from her forehead, the chiseled lines of his nose and cheekbones stark in the lamplight. "Go on," he said, his voice tender. "You can tell me anything. If you still hate me, I'll walk out of your life forever."

"I'm ashamed of myself for judging you so, for deserting you, simply because you were born to my family's enemies. It took years for me to realize this, but I can't deny it."

A grin stretched across his partially scaled face. "To hear you say this is all I've ever longed for. I'll make you happy... and I'll protect you. I swear it on my wretched life."

She returned the smile. "You're considered dead already after Seragon, so swearing on your life isn't viable."

He laughed. "You have no idea how much I've missed you—"

Sybelle tilted her head, lips parted, her forked tongue flicking to tease him. He grabbed her in a fierce embrace, and years of starved desire spilled free. She wanted to melt into him and never lose him again.

His mouth and tongue wandered along her neck. He staggered to the bed and pulled her onto his lap. Lifting the hem of her gown, she straddled him and brushed her snake hand along the undeniable swell between his legs. With trembling fingers he unlaced his pants, then he besieged her with frenzied kisses. The intoxicating taste of him, his clean, musky scent, his strong arms around her—her pulse mingled with the drums throbbing outside the room. His fangs grazed the soft curve of her breasts. She gasped, but his poison was no threat to her Venomisan blood. Their bodies merged as if they'd always been one, gliding together in the joyous dance she'd almost forgotten. Skin slid against mottled scales until bliss crashed through her. They collapsed onto each other, spent and breathless.

She rested her cheek against his chest as he stroked her hair. When she'd regained her senses, she looked into his calm, heavy-lidded eyes.

"You said that if I come home, we'd change Venomis together. How, when you're a dead man, and I'm a slave to the worst pirates in the galaxy?"

"I'll show you." He pushed his sleeve back and tapped the mobile communicator strapped to his forearm. The display flared on, and a Venomisan man's face appeared on the screen.

Sybelle's jaw dropped. "Lord Yassma!"

Yassma gave an elegant nod, the thin snakes of his hair flailing. He'd become leader of the Azerat clan after her father died. "It is I, child, speaking to you from our beloved homeworld. So, you've reunited with your husband. I'm pleased he's found you alive and well, and I do hope you've reconciled with each other."

"That we have, noble one." Leeyam wrapped an arm around Sybelle, and she nestled against him.

"What's the latest from Venomis?" Sybelle asked. "My access to the news is limited here, but I've heard the rebellion against the Kashtenai aristocracy has grown."

The image flickered in static, and Yassma's voice sputtered with the poor long-distance signal. "It's a glorious day for our people. Our forces seized the capitol this morning, and a truce is underway. We seek a new order of peace, but you know the Kashtenai recognize only bloodline and inheritance. They demand the new regime's stability. This requires a fertile couple to produce heirs for the ruling lineage. You're the only surviving daughter of the royal Azerat line. I'm certain you understand what this means."

"Yes." Sybelle imagined a child looking up at her with Leeyam's sensuous green eyes, and new hope filled her.

Yassma grew solemn. "Do you accept this mission, princess?"

Sybelle tightened her grip around Leeyam. "I accept."

Yassma's laughter was triumphant. "Excellent. Prince Leeyam will guide you. We'll intercept... get to... rendezvous... our fighters await—" The message died.

"This won't be easy," Sybelle said. "My torc has a tracking device. Any escape attempt will alert every Cartel brute aboard this station. I hope you have another reckless plan."

"Recklessness is my talent, though it pales next to yours." He winked. "Once I'd confirmed your location here on Delirium 8, our Venomisan allies rallied to the cause. Even a dead man like me still has friends. We only wait for your command."

Her lips curled into a smile. "Then I command you to attack."

***

Leeyam activated his communicator. "We're on, Gorgott. Alert the crew. I'll meet you at the airlock."

A high-pitched voice replied, "Aye, sir. We're ready."

Sybelle frowned. "How did you manage to get in here and onto Eljax's VIP list?"

"Being a dead man has its advantages for subterfuge." His grin weakened her knees, and he tipped his hat low to hide his face. He drew a high-powered blaster from the holster on his belt. "Let's just say I hit it off well with the smuggler crew who rescued me." He grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the door. "Let's go."

They dashed down the corridor. As they reached the exit stairwell, an explosion rocked the walls and floor. Half-dressed whores and startled johns poured out of the adjacent cubicles, the station's emergency sirens blaring among shouts and screams.

Leeyam chuckled. "Our Venomisan allies prove their worth. The Cartel doesn't stand a chance against the Kashtenai-Azerat fleet."

"It's true, then? Our clans have really united?"

He squeezed her hand. "Yes. We're the new rulers of Venomis, my love. We just have to get out of here and return home."

They sprinted downstairs and emerged at the docking level. Another explosion jostled the station. Through a nearby port window, Sybelle glimpsed a formation of sleek Venomisan drake fighters diving before the Cartel's feeble defense ships. Hyper-missiles fired in white flashes from their cannons.

GIF #3 HERE: http://i.giphy.com/Io0NnNkCtcCdi.gif

Leeyam spoke again to his communicator. "Gorgott, how are we looking there?"

Gorgott answered, "Cartel forces gathering. Our ship's ready, but get here quick."

Leeyam's lips pressed to a firm line. "We're on our way."

Chaos engulfed Delirium 8 like an inferno. Heavily armed Cartel brigands bulldozed through the corridors, their heavy boots thudding. Eljax's commands boomed over the intercom, ordering all to their assault posts. In the milling confusion, Sybelle and Leeyam rushed to the cargo lock with no opposition. They ran toward the massive steel door, barely passing through as it slid shut in emergency shutdown. The launch bay stretched before them, a vast hangar of steel bathed in amber overlights.

A sharp whistle drew their attention.

"Cap'n Leeyam, this way!" A Tavarix woman in rugged coveralls waved. Her thin head bobbed on its corded neck, a blaster gripped in her furry purple hands.

Sybelle cocked an eyebrow as she and Leeyam ran to the smugglers' ship. "Captain and Prince Leeyam? You've gained a lot of titles for a dead man."

"Just a few perks along the way." He smirked. "Made it all the easier to reach you."

At the foot of the boarding ramp, the Tavarix hailed someone on her comm. "They're here. Start 'er up."

Gorgott's tinny reply pealed. "Affirmative, Iyasa. Get your asses on board. Cartel incoming off starboard."

Leeyam shoved Sybelle up the ramp. "Hurry, we've got company!"

He and Iyasa brandished their weapons and whirled to face the Cartel squad, a pack of brigands from the strongest and meanest races of the Star-ways. Shots whizzed about, forcing Leeyam and his crewmate to duck behind the support beams.

"Stop right there!" Boss Eljax bellowed. He towered over the squad, half a ton of blubber and tyranny encased in his mass. "That's my property, scum." He aimed a trip-rifle and fired at Sybelle.

Swift nano-cables burst from Eljax's gun and lashed around Sybelle's gauntleted arm. She stumbled and cried out as the tethers retracted, dragging her across the floor.

Leeyam sprang after her, but a brigand shot him in the shoulder. He fell to his hands and knees, struggling to stand. Blood dripped in a dark-green pool beneath him. Iyasa ran to his side as the smuggler ship's rockets shrieked behind them.

"Leeyam!" Sybelle thrashed against her bonds, but Eljax seized her and lifted her off the ground, pinning her to his chest.

"Shut up, bitch. You'll suffer for this treachery." Eljax's sinister eye narrowed upon her.

Sybelle tensed. Years of fury, grief for her father, and humiliation erupted. Too long had she cringed before this cruel despot, feared him, allowed him to control her. One look at her husband gasping on the floor was all it took. Her free hand struck with might and speed, and its deadly serpent fangs sank into Eljax's lumpy throat.

"Gah!" Eljax wheezed and dropped her, beefy hands tearing at the wound. The corrosive venom sizzled as it ate at his flesh and tainted his bloodstream. He collapsed in a convulsive heap, choked, then lay still.

The brigands stared with horrified expressions. Venomisan poison was the most potent in the galaxy, and widely feared. Sybelle ran to Iyasa while the distraction lasted, dragging Eljax's trip-rifle behind her, and they helped Leeyam limp up the ramp.

"They're escaping, ye louts!" one of the brigands shouted, and the squad resumed its attack.

Sybelle and Iyasa got Leeyam into the ship just as enemy fire pelted the hull around them.

"Gorgott, I need backup," Iyasa yelled over her shoulder.

"Roger!" A gelatinous Zorlak floated down from an overhead portal, a small army's worth of blasters clutched in its many tentacles. "Get up to the bridge. I'll handle 'em." Gorgott drifted down the ramp. "Yeehaa!" The brigands' ammo was no threat to the Zorlak's resilient and amorphous body. Gorgott spun and fired, the spray of blaster beams inescapable. Within seconds, all of the enemies lay dead or wounded.

Nothing hindered them, now. Iyasa blew the cargo door away with a hyper-torpedo, and the ship zoomed to the refuge of the nearest Star-way. Behind them, the Venomisan fighters destroyed Delirium 8 in a blaze of mayhem.

***

Victory was bittersweet. Sybelle knelt beside Leeyam and stroked his face. His wound gaped through the smoldered tatters of his shirt.

"We made it, my love," he said. "You're free."

Tears stung her eyes. "Hush. Just lie still."

Iyasa and Gorgott watched in awe as Sybelle removed her robotic hand and bit Leeyam's injured shoulder with healing venom. Leeyam cried out, wincing, and the wound began to close as the anti-venom worked its miracle—the healing gift of Sybelle's clan.

Leeyam's cocky attitude returned. "I should have known you wouldn't let me die. 'My poison kiss doth purify...' Such a fitting motto for the Azerat."

Sybelle leaned to kiss him, her hair cascading around them. A long voyage lay ahead, and a new purpose to inspire their homeworld awaited. She clutched Leeyam's hand with firm conviction. The suffering and shame of years gone by faded with the radiant promise of his smile.