Page 44 of Craving Venom (The Venomous Beauty Trilogy #1)

“She took the fruit.” Zane sounds so goddamn satisfied, His breath fans against my pussy before he licks me until my vision whites out.

“And what happened to her after that?” I grit out.

Zane’s fingers ghost over my stomach, brushing dangerously close to what I assume is the snake’s tail. The snake begins to slither lower, and I feel its weight shift, the subtle pressure easing inch by inch until it disappears completely.

Zane pulls back long enough for me to start feeling the absence of his mouth. “She saw the world for what it was.”

And then he’s on me again.

His mouth crashes into my pussy ravenously, his tongue diving deep as if he’s trying to consume me from the inside out.

My thighs tremble as he fucks me with his tongue while his nose rubs against my swollen clit like he can’t get deep enough, close enough, or inside enough.

“Zane.” His name is barely a sound, more of a breath, a moan.

I know this is a sin.

A sin so deep, so damning, that I should be on my knees in a church right now, praying for absolution.

For the sins I’ve already committed.

For the ones I know I’m about to.

For the way my hips twitch forward, offering myself to him like I was crafted from dust and desire just to be devoured by his mouth.

This is sacrilege, and Zane is the devil between my thighs.

But I would bear whatever punishment it took, whether it was hellfire, damnation, or eternal suffering if it meant I could drown him between my legs.

A wrecked scream tears from my throat as the orgasm slams through me. Tears spill from my blindfolded eyes, streaking down my temples as I sob through it, the pleasure is so intense, so blinding, it feels like my entire body is crumbling under the force of it.

Zane doesn’t stop.

He growls as his arms lock around my thighs, dragging me deeper into his mouth while his tongue works me through it.

His tongue keeps dragging through me while his lips suck on my too sensitive clit. The aftershocks of my orgasm turn into pain, into desperation, into a need to fucking escape.

“Zane—fuck, stop—”

Zane growls, gripping my thighs tighter.

In one swift motion, he angles my body, shifting me upward until my feet nearly touch the headboard, bending me into a position that leaves me completely exposed.

My legs are spread wide as his fingers bruise into my thighs, holding me exactly where he wants me.

Humiliation burns through me but then again everything about this is humiliating.

Zane licks me some more and then pushes off me. I instinctively straighten my legs, desperate to regain some control, some dignity but he doesn’t let me have either.

His body cages mine instantly as his chest presses flush against me. I tense as his fingers hook under the blindfold, and with one smooth motion, he pulls it away.

My blinking eyes struggle to adjust, the sudden flood of light dizzying after so long in darkness.

And the first thing I see is Zane, above me, over me, watching me like he owns every fucking piece of me.

His mouth is red, wet, glistening with everything he’s taken from me.

He grabs my jaw and spits my own come into my mouth. A muffled noise escapes my lips as the warm taste of myself floods my tongue.

I try to turn my head, to spit it out, but his grip tightens, his thumb pressing into my chin, keeping my mouth open.

“Swallow.”

I refuse as I glare up at him with every ounce of defiance I have left. His lips curl as his patience thins, and he presses down harder. His fingers grip my jaw until my mouth stays open just enough for some of it to dribble past my lips, streaking my chin.

He strokes his thumb over my cheek affectionately before he tilts my head back slightly, forcing the rest to settle at the back of my throat.

Tears prickle my eyes, but I know he won’t let me go until I obey. A whimper tears from me as I finally gulp it down.

Zane’s tongue flicks out, licking the remnants from my chin as his voice drops to a pleased whisper.

“Good girl.”

“So,” he muses, tapping a mocking finger against my lips. “What did we learn from the Garden of Eden?”

“That you’re a sick piece of shit who needs therapy?” I sneer.

His grip tightens instantly as his fingers dig into my jaw, forcing my lips apart just enough to make me feel breakable.

“Try again, sweetheart.”

I gasp as he shifts his hips, pressing hard against my still-sensitive core while his body pins me down effortlessly.

His breath skates over my lips. “Tell me what we learned.”

I know what I learned.

That I taunted him. That I tempted him when I should have known better.

And maybe I never had a choice. Maybe it was always destined to end this way—my body ruined, my pride shattered, and my soul marked in ways I can never undo.

But that’s a lie, isn’t it?

Because Eve had a choice, too.

She wasn’t forced to take the fruit. She knew what it meant, knew the risk, knew the cost, and still she reached out, took it in her hands, bit into it.

And just like her, I knew what Zane was capable of.

I knew, and yet I still opened my mouth and tempted him to destroy me.

I don’t say any of that.

Instead, I drag in a breath, and I spit the words that might finally make him bleed.

“You’re a sadistic piece of shit,” I snap. “You talk about respecting deadly creatures, about earning their trust but you made her spit venom when it wasn’t even needed. That’s not respect. That’s cruelty.”

He just says, soft and sure, “No.”

He strokes a phantom line along my jaw like he’s still holding the memory of her there.

“I asked. And she answered. It’s not cruelty if it’s trust. She knows I’ll never take anything she doesn’t want to give me.”

The words are quiet, but they hit like a whip. Because they’re not about the snake anymore. Not really.

They’re about me.

And I hate that my mind latches onto it—that part of me, the part that’s so fucking broken, starts wondering if that’s true for us too.

If this was never about force.

If it’s always been about the way I look at him. The way I don’t run. The way, deep down, I stay.

Because I could’ve screamed louder. I could’ve fought harder.

But I didn’t.

And if that’s trust…

Then maybe I’m just as twisted as he is.

“Why are you doing this? What, are you some kind of twisted god now? Meting out punishments? Deciding who gets to fall and who doesn’t?”

Zane chuckles and dips his head, his lips grazing the shell of my ear.

“Don’t fool yourself, good girl,” he murmurs. “I’m no god. Gods are merciful. And the Devil? He ain’t got shit on me.”

The leather around my wrists suddenly loosens, the pressure easing as he releases me completely. My arms drop limply to my sides, feeling foreign after being bound for so long.

Zane pulls away, and the absence of his weight leaves my skin feeling cold. I exhale shakily, forcing myself to open my eyes.

The ceiling above me blurs, and for a moment I wonder if it’s the light or my eyes, but then a tear slips past my temple, weaving silently into my hair. I should feel violated. I should feel something sharp enough to scream.

But all I feel is exhausted.

There’s movement in the room.

I turn on my side slowly, dragging the covers up over my chest. My eyes land on Zane. The snakes are moving toward him, not away. One slithers up the length of his arm. Another winds around his calf before he gently gathers it into his palm.

They come to him like they’ve always known where he is. And he doesn’t command them. He doesn’t dominate or threaten. He waits. He lets them choose.

One by one, he lifts them with a tenderness I didn’t think him capable of, guiding them back into the case.

It hits me then.

This isn’t the first time.

They know him.

They own him.

They trust him.

And what stings the most is that I recognize it. That some deep, unbroken part of me is still capable of recognizing trust.

I rest my cheek against the pillow, voice so soft it doesn’t even sound like mine.

“You’re right.”

He doesn’t look back so I continue.

“Some broken part of me,” I say slowly, “does trust you.”

That’s when he turns. I expect the smirk. The smug reply. The wolfish amusement.

But none of it comes.

Instead, Zane sits back on his heels. “I know.”

“I hate that part of me,” I whisper. “The one that looks at you and… doesn’t run.”

“You’ll come to love it,” he says softly.

“Why?”

“Because we’re both too used to cages,” he says. “It’s why we don’t run when the door opens.”

I know what he’s really saying.

He’s not just talking about walls and locks and iron bars. He’s talking about the cage I’ve built around who I’m supposed to be. The good girl. The smart one. The one who knows better, who does better, who says no and means it.

But somewhere along the way, that cage got too tight.

I want more.

More darkness. More meaning. More pain that feels earned.

He’s offering it. In the sickest way. And somehow, part of me reaches for it.

I don’t respond. I just keep watching him as he gathers the last of the snakes with quiet care. The more I watch him, the more he fits with them.

Maybe that’s why the snakes come.

Because they see the venom in him.

And they trust it.

And maybe I do too.

Not the man. Not fully.

But the monster who doesn’t lie about what he is.

My lashes grow heavier, the weight of everything finally starting to pull me under. I’m not safe. I know that.

But before the fear can creep back in, sleep takes me.