Page 11 of Craving Venom (The Venomous Beauty Trilogy #1)
The voice is so close, so sudden, I nearly jump out of my skin.
I whirl around, clutching my chest. Standing behind me is a man, He is tall, sharp-dressed, and wearing a black hat tilted just low enough to cast shadows over his eyes.
His suit screams money, just like everyone else here, but there’s something off about him.
His smile is too wide, his teeth just a little too perfect.
“Uh…” My voice falters as I take a half-step back, putting some distance between us. “Yeah, I guess.”
“It has a way of pulling people in. Don’t you think?”
“Sure.” I glance back at the painting. I clear my throat, trying to focus. “Do you know who the artist is? There’s no name on the plaque.”
His smile tightens, and for a second, I think he’s going to laugh. Instead, he leans forward slightly, lowering his voice like we’re sharing a secret. “It’s unknown. No one knows who created it.”
That’s… unsettling. “Really?”
He nods, his eyes flicking to the painting. “It’s part of the allure, isn’t it? A masterpiece with no origin. Makes you wonder what kind of mind could conjure something so…” He pauses, searching for the word. “Ethereal.”
I don’t answer, because I’m too busy trying to figure out what his deal is. He feels like someone straight out of an old noir film.
Before I can respond, he straightens up and adjusts the brim of his hat. “It won’t be unknown for much longer, though. I’ve decided to take it home.”
“You’re buying it?”
He nods once. “Sometimes, beauty demands to be possessed.”
Okay, that’s officially the creepiest thing anyone’s said to me today. He tips his hat, turning away before I can come up with a response, and disappears into the sea of wealthy art enthusiasts.
I shake my head as I turn back to the painting. The words are gone. They were there a second ago. I swear they were.
But now? They’re gone.
I press closer, my breath fogging the glass again. My eyes scan every inch of the girl’s dress, but there’s nothing there anymore.
“Faith!” Tria’s voice pulls me back to reality, and I turn to see her striding toward me with a grin plastered across her face. “Who the hell was that? I just saw you talking to the hottest guy in this whole place!”
I blink at her, still rattled. “What? No. He was just…” I wave my hand vaguely, trying to find the words. “Some weirdo who’s buying the painting.”
Tria’s grin doesn’t falter. “Well, he was hot. You should’ve flirted or something.”
I snort, crossing my arms. “Don’t you have a boyfriend?”
She rolls her eyes, waving me off. “That’s beside the point.”
“Where’s Xaden?” I ask, glancing around.
“Right here,” comes his voice from behind us, and I turn to see him walking up with his usual unbothered expression.
“Let’s go,” he says, nodding toward the exit. “This place is getting weird.”
For once, I don’t argue. As we make our way out of the gallery, I glance over my shoulder at the painting one last time. And for a second, I think I see the words again. But when I blink, they’re gone.
The walk home is slow, mostly because Tria insists on dragging us into an ice cream shop she claims has the “best mint chocolate on this side of the city.” Not that I’m complaining, I’ve been craving sugar since the second we stepped into that creepy-ass gallery.
“Holy shit,” Tria says around a mouthful of mint chocolate chip, practically moaning. “This is life-changing. Xaden, you need to try it.”
Xaden, holding a modest scoop of vanilla, raises an eyebrow. “Mint chocolate chip is toothpaste with chocolate in it. No, thanks.”
“Oh my god, you’re so boring,” Tria groans, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Faith, back me up.”
I lick a trail of chocolate fudge off the side of my cone, trying to keep my face straight. “Honestly, he’s kinda right. Mint chocolate chip tastes like someone dropped an Andes mint in a bowl of dairy and called it a day.”
Tria gasps like I’ve just committed treason. “Unbelievable. This is why your opinions are trash .”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” I tease, smirking as she shoves another spoonful of her toothpaste into her mouth.
We’re still bickering about the moral implications of mint-flavored anything when my eyes catch on something up ahead.
The signboard reads: VERIDIAN CORRECTIONAL FACILITY — 3.7 MILES AHEAD.
I falter mid-step, my ice cream suddenly tasting like ash in my mouth.
Far in the distance, past the sloping hills and razor-straight road, I catch a glimpse of the gates. They’re massive, black iron things that look more fitting for a gothic cathedral than a prison. The words VERIDIAN CORRECTIONAL FACILITY are etched above them.
Zane’s in there.
“Funny, isn’t it?” Tria nudges me with her elbow.
“What?”
“You keep spacing out,” she says, licking her spoon clean. “First the painting, now this. You’re lucky you’re cute, Faith, because you’re definitely not subtle.”
But I barely hear her. My eyes are glued to the gates, and my brain is screaming at me to stop staring, to act normal, but I can’t.
“Faith? Are you okay? You’re weirdly quiet.”
I snap back to reality and force a laugh, but it sounds hollow even to me. “Yeah, just... lost in thought.”
“Really?” Xaden’s voice is dry, and when I glance at him, his eyes are fixed on the prison gates too. “You looked pretty focused on the sign board back there. Want to take a closer look?”
For a second, I almost say yes. I almost fucking say yes, like the idiot I am.
But instead, I force a casual shrug and look away. “Nah. I’m good.”
Xaden doesn’t push, but his gaze lingers for a beat too long before he turns back to his ice cream.
Tria, bless her oblivious little soul, seems content to move on. “Okay, but back to important things—like the fact that you two have trash taste in ice cream.”
“Here we go again,” I mutter, grateful for the distraction as she launches into another dramatic rant about how mint chocolate is the only respectable flavor.
But even as we laugh and argue, my body keeps circling back to the feeling that, sooner or later, I’m going to have to take the plunge.