Page 42 of Craving Venom (The Venomous Beauty Trilogy #1)

Then his tone dips, almost fond. “And non-venomous snakes? They constrict, sure, but only because that’s what evolution gave them. No poison. No aggression. Just instinct. It’s funny. People scream over a harmless little rat snake but sleep next to men who beat them.”

My stomach clenches.

“People say snakes are evil. But snakes don’t pretend to love you while they destroy you.

They don’t lie. They don’t manipulate.” He lifts the glass again, the mixture shimmering faintly now.

“If you’re going to fear something, sweetheart…

fear the things that wear masks. Not the ones that shed them. ”

I swallow hard, because for the first time tonight, I’m not scared of the snake.

I’m scared of the man who’s teaching me how to respect it.

“People think fear means evil. But sometimes fear just means you don’t understand something beautiful yet.”

I stare at the snake, its black, glassy scales shimmer like spilled oil under the light, its slender, muscular body is wound around his wrist like a living cuff. The tongue flicks out, tasting the air as if savoring the ghost of its violence.

Zane rubs a thumb over its head and it’s almost affectionate. I should stop watching him but I don’t because for the first time, I notice how beautiful the snake is.

“Venomous or not,” he says softly, “a snake doesn’t decide to be feared. That’s on you. Your brain. Your past. Your stories. Fear comes from what you think something might do… not what it’s done.”

Zane’s eyes settle on me like he already knows what I’m thinking. Knows I’ve figured it out. Knows I see him as something far more dangerous.

“Fear doesn’t mean you’re trapped. It means you’ve seen something powerful. It means your instincts are working. But instincts aren’t orders. They’re questions. Do you move? Or do you stay? The choice is always yours.”

And before I can stop myself, my lips part. “Are you going to hurt me?”

Zane doesn’t look at me.

His focus remains on the snake, his thumb still stroking along its head. When he finally speaks, his answer is so soft I almost don’t hear it.

“No.”

A sharp exhale leaves me, but it doesn’t steady me, doesn’t fucking fix anything.

Because I don’t believe him.

I don’t believe anything about this moment is safe.

And I feel the next question building in my chest, clawing up my throat, threatening to choke me on the way out.

I shouldn’t ask.

I don’t want the answer.

But I can’t stop myself.

“Are you going to rape me?”

The second the words leave my mouth, Zane finally looks at me.

Our eyes lock, and for a second, the world feels too still, like I’m caught in the moment right before something awful happens.

His gaze darkens, and a wildness creeps in, carrying a force that makes my blood run colder than it already is.

“I’m going to ruin you.”

I stop breathing.

Because somehow, that’s so much worse.

“Why are you doing this?”

Zane doesn’t answer right away.

Instead he just turns and walks back to the case by the door. He opens a second case. This one is white, lined with soft bedding material and carefully lays the snake inside.

He strokes the curve of its body once before closing the lid.

He doesn’t say a word.

But I swear, I’ve never seen a man look at anything with more tenderness.

Not a human. Not even himself. Just… her.

He shows more compassion to a creature people fear than most show to the people they claim to love.

And maybe that’s what makes it worse.

He crosses the room in three steps.

Before I can move, before I can even think, his hand wraps around my throat. “Because I gave you a choice.”

He leans closer, until his breath grazes my lips.

“You stayed.”

And now, I know—he never needed to force me.

Because letting me choose?

That was the cruelest thing of all.

His thumb brushes my lower lip. “Did you like it?”

What the fuck is he talking about? The question barely forms before it hits me—Trevor. That stupid, meaningless kiss.

No.

No way.

He… he couldn’t have done all this because of a kiss.

Right?

I search his expression, desperate for a sign that this is about something else, that there’s a bigger reason but the more I look at him, the more the answer becomes clear.

What a fucking psycho.

Zane watches me too closely as if he’s daring me to say yes.

That’s when I realize what this whole fucking tantrum is about.

This isn’t just rage.

It’s about control.

It’s about submission.

It’s about breaking me down until there’s nothing left of me that doesn’t belong to him. I don’t understand, but my stupid, self-destructive brain makes a decision before I can stop myself.

I nod. It’s barely a tilt of my head, but it’s enough. Enough to let him believe he’s nothing special. Even though I hated that kiss with Trevor, even though I felt nothing, it doesn’t hurt to let Zane think otherwise.

To let his pride take the hit.

I expect him to mock me, but he doesn’t. His expression changes—not into amusement, but into anger. Into something that looks so close to hurt that it makes my chest tighten for a completely different reason.

But before I can process it, before I can even finish nodding, he’s on me. A sharp gasp rips from my throat as his fingers dig into my cheeks, yanking my face up toward him so fucking roughly that my hands fly off the sheets only to pry at his wrists, trying to tear his grip off me.

“Lie to me again,” he growls pressing his thumb so hard into my jaw I swear something might crack.

“Go on, and I’ll fuck the truth out of you until you can’t lie without moaning.”

I suck in a shaky breath, forcing out the only word I can manage through gritted teeth and pure panic.

“No.”

His fingers tighten one last time, then he lets me go. Zane jerks his body up and his knees dig into the mattress, sinking in as he looms over me, the space between us dwindling to nothing.

He reaches for the hem of his hoodie, gripping it tight before yanking it up slightly, exposing the hard plane of his stomach with a hint of black ink stretching over his ribs, disappearing under the fabric.

Is that a tattoo?

The urge to see more hits me too hard, but I ignore it. I rip my gaze away, trying to remind myself—

He’s a fucking monster. Not a man. A monster.

But he doesn’t miss the way I look at him.

“You want me to strip for you, good girl?”

I glare, the side of my jaw tightening as I force out, “I want you to drop dead.”

“That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble. Keep pushing, and I’ll show you just how close I can bring you to death before pulling you back.”

My stomach bottoms out when Zane lifts his arms slightly and curls his fingers around the buckle of his belt, and in one slow, fluid motion, he slides it through the loops, the leather hissing as it comes free.

My thighs clench together, but not because I’m trying to protect myself but because my body is humiliating me.

Who the hell looks sexy while taking off a belt?

Who the hell can make something so simple feel so suffocating, so obscene, so terrifyingly intimate?

I should be terrified.

I am terrified.

Zane loops the belt around his knuckles, testing the leather, stretching it, letting the sound of it snap between his fingers like a warning.

Then his eyes find mine and my lungs refuse to function.

“Give me your hands, good girl.”

“Wh—” My whimper fractures as my body shakes and my breath splinters from my lungs. “Wh—what are you—”

“Your hands, Faith.”

I jerk my head as my thighs clamp together so fiercely they throb and my entire body seizes with fear.

“Zane,” I whisper.

His expression doesn’t change.

“Give me your hands, or I’ll take them.”

My hands tremble uncontrollably as I inch them forward while a clammy sheen of sweat coats my palm. Zane watches as if he already knows what I’m going to do before I do it.

I hate that he’s right.

At the last second before my wrists reach him, I jerk them back desperately trying to yank myself away, but he moves faster. His fingers seize my wrists mid-air and a choked scream rips from my throat as he wrenches them forward, holding them with effortless strength.

I struggle instantly, thrashing against his grip as my hair whips into my face, blinding me, while my knees crash into his ribs and my nails claw into his flesh, desperate to break free.

But it doesn’t matter.

He’s so much stronger.

He pins my wrists with one hand, tightening his hold until my bones feel like they might snap under the pressure.

“Let go, let me go—” My protests only make his grip tighten, only makes the belt pull harder against my wrists.

The leather slips and my hair falls into my face, sticking to my damp skin, clinging to my lips, making it even harder to fucking breathe.

I jerk my head, trying to shake the strands loose, but it only makes them tangle more, framing my face, falling into my mouth, itching my skin, making my already spiraling panic even worse.

Zane grunts, adjusting his grip, fighting against my struggle, and the belt slips again.

I see my chance.

Without thinking I lunge forward, and sink my teeth into the flesh of his hand, biting down on everything I can reach—his skin, his veins, even a few strands of my own hair that got caught between my lips.

But he doesn’t let go.

“If you don’t start behaving—” he breathes, “I’ll wrap my belt around your throat. And trust me, good girl—” his lips curl into a monstrosity, a distortion that shouldn’t exist on a human face—

“My cock is itching for that.”

A tremor racks through my entire body. I rip my mouth away from his hand, and his hand loosens around my wrists, but the moment he lets go, I barely get a second to process it because he’s already grabbing the belt again.

And this time he doesn’t miss. The leather coils tight around my wrists, burning my skin as I jerk, trying to twist out of it before he can secure it.

“No—” My legs kick out as he yanks the belt tighter, the loop cinching with a sharp snap.