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“It doesn’t affect me.”

“I don’t believe that. I always know when you’ve had a hit from your squibs.”

“I don’t get a hit from them. It’s just a feeding routine.”

Her plump lips pursed again. “Your pupils get dilated and you slur your words like you’ve had too much to drink.”

Dallin ran his tongue over his teeth. Maybe there were a few side-effects to using the octo-squibs, but he wouldn’t stop doing it. These guys were his allies, and they helped him stay stable, and that was important whenever Sloane was around. He’d use nature’s sedatives whenever he could to make sure he was never a threat to her.

Sloane snapped on some medical gloves. “Let me take them off your arm.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll deal with them.” Dallin sucked in a breath as her fingers skimmed across his skin and she carefully plucked off the first octo-squib.

“How long did you use them this time?” she asked.

“Just a few minutes.” He’d attached the squibs over an hour ago, the second Sloane had left for her meeting with Wren. Each time he used their sedative, he needed a little more to get the same effect. Damn! Maybe Sloane had a point about him becoming addicted.

“Did that hurt?” Sloane stopped her attempt at removing the next octo-squib.

“No. You could never hurt me.”

“I’d like to try.”

Dallin choked out a laugh. “What does that mean?”

“It means, you never spar with me like the other Apexians do with their human partners. I have to keep my physical training up-to-date. If we ever leave this ship again, I don’t want to get caught out and carried away by some alien barbarian.”

He lifted one shoulder. “My advice is always go for the balls. No matter the alien, we all have the same weak spot between our legs.”

Sloane grinned, sending her face from beautiful to breathtaking. She was so stunning to look at, it hurt his eyes.

“I’ll remember that.” She removed the last two octo-squibs, placed them in the tank, and then closed the lid. “They’re looking fatter. And you’re looking stoned.”

“I feel good. Much calmer.”

“What’s got you so stressed that you needed a hit from those slimy guys?” Sloane turned and faced him.

This close, Dallin could smell the honey and peach scent from her shampoo. He resisted the urge to take a deep breath. Instead, he turned to his workbench. “One guess.”

The door to the lab opened again, and Cleo Newman walked in.

Dallin nodded a greeting at her. Cleo was in charge of the crew on the Apocalypse, the conservation ship he’d been stationed on for over a year. He respected Cleo. She was fair, hard-working, and determined to make sure her crew were looked after and well-paid. Draped around her neck was a silver rodent she’d rescued on a mission.

“Oh! Let me have a cuddle with Pluto.” Sloane held her arms out for the silver rodent.

Cleo’s smile was tired as she handed him over. “Be my guest. You know he adores you.” She shook her head as Sloane tickled the rodent’s tummy and made him purr and kick his feet in the air.

Dallin wouldn’t mind a little belly rub from Sloane now and again. He also wouldn’t mind her hand rubbing his shaft and stroking him until he kicked his legs and purred.

He shifted in his seat, forcing away the image, and focused on Cleo. “I’ve got something you might be interested in.”

She closed her eyes for a second and held up crossed fingers. “An antidote?”

“No. There’s still no stable antidote for the Siblet poison. The most recent trials work for a few days, and then they slowly lose effectiveness,” Dallin said. “But I’ve discovered the reason why that happens. The Siblet are using a modified form of nanotechnology combined with a particle I’ve yet to identify. And the nanotech is the smallest I’ve ever seen. I missed it at first.”

Cleo cursed under her breath. “You’re telling me the poison is constantly changing?”

He nodded. “Sloane figured it out.”