Page 13 of Craving Venom (The Venomous Beauty Trilogy #1)

It irritates the fuck out of me, the way she gets under my skin, crawling into the parts of me I’ve spent years locking down. She doesn’t know when to stop, doesn’t know when to walk away. She keeps pushing, testing, daring me to break her.

And the worst part? She doesn’t even fucking realize it.

I bring the joint back to my lips, taking a longer drag this time, the smoke searing away the edge of my frustration but doing nothing for the core of it.

I need to cut her out. For her own good.

The thought pisses me off as soon as it forms.

No, it’s not for her. I don’t give a fuck about Faith Collins or what happens to her.

This is for me.

She’s dangerous, I remind myself. Not in the way most people are, with their knives and fists and threats. No, she’s dangerous in a way that feels more personal, more insidious.

She makes me think. Makes me feel.

And that’s the problem.

Because if I let her stay, if I keep letting her claw her way into my head, she’s going to tear me apart from the inside out.

I stub the joint out against the fence, the embers snuffing out with a faint hiss before I flick it aside. The buzz lingers but it doesn’t fucking fix anything.

My jaw clenches as I make my way back toward my cell. As soon as I step inside, the sound of my computer chiming cuts through the silence. I don’t need to look to know who it is.

I drop into the chair and tap the screen. I already know it’s going to piss me off.

Are you ignoring me, or do you just like playing hard to get?

What the fuck do you want, Faith? Huh? What’s your plan here? Make me fall in love with you? Ask me questions about my so-called “crimes,” then flash it all over the media? Write your big, bestselling exposé?

I pause, smirking bitterly at the screen before typing the next part.

Let me save you some time. Everything they’re saying out there is true. I’m a murderer. There. I fucking confessed it. Now go write your goddamn book and leave me the fuck alone.

You’re such a disgusting excuse for a human being.

That hit a nerve, didn’t it?

But just because you’re a piece of shit doesn’t mean I am. You think I’m here for clout? My only motive was to understand you. But you’re so blinded by your own ego and self-loathing you can’t even see that.

Oh, please. Don’t act so fucking righteous. You’re poking at the monster in the cage. So what’s your angle? Sympathy? Redemption? Save it, good girl.

I’m not here to save you, Zane. I don’t give a damn about redeeming you. I’m trying to understand you.

I bark out a laugh as I type my reply.

What the fuck for? I’m not some case study for you to dissect. I’m not a goddamn project for your entertainment.

You’re objectifying yourself, not me. I’m not looking at you like a monster. I’m looking at you like a human being. The problem is, you can’t even see yourself that way anymore.

My fingers hesitate over the keyboard for a split second before I slam my hand down on the desk.

Don’t fucking pity me, Faith. Don’t you dare. You think I don’t know what I am? I’ve been locked up in this hellhole for years. I’ve had plenty of time to figure it out.

Then maybe you need to take a little more time because all I see is someone so wrapped up in their own hatred, they can’t even see what’s real anymore.

Careful, good girl. You don’t know half of what I’m capable of. You don’t know the places I’ve been, the lines I’ve crossed. If you’re smart, you’ll back the fuck off.

I don’t even wait for her response before typing again.

Find yourself a boyfriend, someone who’ll treat you right and respect your space. Because I won’t just bend your morals, I’ll fucking break them.

Aw, are you trying to spook me, Zane? Sorry, but I’m not that easily scared. Plus, you’re the one who’s been keeping this banter going.

I grind my teeth as I read her next message.

You may see this as banter, but I assure you, I can be a very dangerous man when provoked.

Mmm, dangerous, huh? Is that a promise or a warning?

I don’t bother laughing this time. Instead, I press my fingers hard into the keys.

Pray to whatever gods you believe in that you never have to find out.

Maybe I want to find out, Zane. Maybe I’m curious to see just how far you’re willing to go.

Be careful what you wish for, good girl. You might just get it. I’m not someone you want to push.

Oh, come on. You’re trying way too hard. If you really wanted to get rid of me, you’d stop with the ominous warnings. You act like the world should bow down to you, but you’re just a man behind a screen. You don’t intimidate me.

Not yet, maybe. But that’s because you’re too naive to see what’s in front of you. I’m not just some “bad boy” you can flirt with and tame. You don’t tame a fucking storm. You survive it, if you’re lucky.

Oh, please. Storms are just loud and messy. You talk like you’re the king of the jungle, but all I see is someone trying way too hard to sound scary.

I lean back in my chair, fingers flexing at her flippant response.

Nah, not the jungle, baby. I’m more like a King Kong. Towering over the rest, untamed, and unafraid to seize what’s rightfully mine.

A King Kong, huh? You’re really leaning into the whole “dark and dangerous” act. But let me ask you something, Zane—if you’re such a predator, why are you the one locked in the cage?

You think bars make me any less dangerous? That’s where you’re wrong. Even caged, I’m still a threat. You should listen to those instincts telling you to run, Faith. You don’t know me. You just know my name.