The Viper's Nest (Kit Davenport #4)(79)

“Cal,” I snapped. “You need to do this. He’s not going to come out for any of us. Cole even tried making his hand all scaly, and it didn’t work.”

Caleb huffed and scowled. “What am I supposed to do? He’s legitimately threatening to bite me if I stick my hand in there to grab him.”

“Do not even look at me,” Austin grinned. “Snakes and cats are definitely not friends. On that note, Wes is probably out too, right bro?” Wesley glanced up from his computer and nodded. That one I could understand; didn’t snakes eat crows?

“Have you tried talking to him?” I suggested to Caleb. “Like... using your telepathic thing? Seeing as he doesn’t have ears?” This last part was a joke, seeing as the damn thing could clearly hear us speaking if the curses Caleb had been translating were any indication.

“And ask him what? Why he’s being such a fucking ass?” Caleb grumbled, then rolled his eyes. “Fine, I will try.”

“Try starting with his name, if he has one,” Cole suggested. “He seems pretty sentient, so calling him snakey probably isn’t helping his mood. Failing that, I say we just lift the couch and trap him with a box.”

I glared at the big man. “Not the point, Cutie. But good suggestion to ask his name. If he doesn’t have one, you should really give him one, Cal.”

Caleb closed his eyes briefly, then snorted and sighed. “He’s trying to tell me his name is Rumplesnakeskin.”

Frowning, I glanced back under the sofa at the enormous diamond-backed viper, and he flicked his tongue at me in an almost amused sort of way. Wow, he really was a weird-ass snake.

“Maybe that is his name?” I suggested, but Caleb shook his head.

“No, because he laughed and is now telling me it’s Monty.” He paused, and I failed to see what was funny about Monty. “Monty the Python. Which it’s clearly not because you’re not a python, you dick!”

This last bit, Caleb leaned down to yell at the magical creature under the couch, and his familiar hissed back at him.

“Ahhh hilarious, you turd. It’s not William Snakespeare either, thank you. If you don’t give me a serious answer, I’m just going to name you myself,” Caleb snapped in response to what must have been another name suggestion from his familiar.

If I was being honest, the snake was kind of hilarious.

“Um, is he just fucking with you because he doesn’t have a name or because he just wants to fuck with you?” Wesley piped up and asked a very valid question.

Caleb wrinkled his nose and considered this. “Fair point. Listen, you slimy psycho, if you don’t give me a serious name, then I am going to call you... Cuddles. Or Fluffy.”

Still lying on the floor as I was, I could see his familiar’s less-than-excited reaction to those names, as he hissed and snapped his powerful jaws in Caleb’s vague direction.

“I don’t think he was into those suggestions, Cal,” I muttered, and Caleb huffed as he listened to the snake again.

“Seriously?” he finally asked, reluctantly getting off his chair and kneeling on the floor to peer at his familiar. “You’re not messing with me this time? That’s really your name?”

Curiosity was burning at me, and I poked him in the shoulder. “What is it?”

“Sam,” Caleb replied with a frown. “Except he says it like Sssssssssam, and I’m not totally sure if that’s just because he’s a snake—” He cut off and rolled his eyes. “Nope, he says that is the correct pronunciation. Sssssssssam.”

There was a long pause as he met my eyes with an expression that screamed why me, and I fought back laughter.

“Here’s the deal, scales. I’m not calling you Sssssssssam, and I can promise you that neither will the dragons. God forbid you try getting Alpha to call you Sssssssssam, either. So it’s Sam or Cuddles. Your choice.” He paused again. “Excellent choice. Now are you coming out from under there to meet our bonded Ban Dia, or are you going to be a little bitch? Sorry, I meant mouse.”

At this insult, Sam the snake darted forward and struck Caleb in the hand with his fangs before curling his way up Caleb’s arm to rest across his shoulders and eye me up suspiciously.

“What the fuck?” Caleb roared, holding his bleeding hand up to his mouth and then rolling his eyes for what seemed like the twentieth time since starting this chat with Sam. “Oh, there was no venom in that bite? Oh well, that makes it all okay then, you psycho.” His voice was heavy with sarcasm as he sucked the wound, and his familiar flicked out his tongue in what seemed to be a laugh.

“Here.” I held my hand out to take his and heal the wound, but he shook his head.

“It’s fine; it was only a scratch. See?” He held his hand up to show the bite had already stopped bleeding. “Apparently once Sam and I get to know each other better, we can choose what types of poison he will carry in his venom, which is kind of cool... I guess.”

“That’s actually really cool,” I murmured, eyeing up his familiar now that he was out in the light. Caleb was coiled tighter than, well, than an angry snake. But he hadn’t thrown Sam off him in revulsion, so that surely must be progress for them? “Hi, Sam. I’m Kit.”

Sam flickered his tongue at me, and Caleb translated. “He said, ‘No shit, Sherlock.’” He grimaced and gave me a pained look. “Sorry, my familiar is kind of a dick.”