Page 54 of Craving Venom (The Venomous Beauty Trilogy #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

MONSTER

I guide Faith through a twirl, and as she spins, her tank top shifts with her movement, riding up just enough to flash the curve of her waist. Her laughter fills the room, and I catch myself smiling in response.

She moves like a fairy ripped straight out of a fairytale. And me? I feel like a shadow beside her. Too rough, too real. Ordinary in all the wrong ways.

I knew I could never deserve a girl like her, but that didn’t stop me from wanting her—from taking her . I’d tear down thrones, flip realities, and burn down skies, all just to stand at her side.

She spins one last time and lands right on my feet.

A little gasp slips from her, followed by a soft, startled laugh.

“Wow,” she whooshes as she looks up at me. “You really know how to dance. Who taught you?”

“My mom,” I answer, letting the words slip out before I can pull them back. “She wanted me to be the perfect gentleman for Ella.”

Faith’s smile falters, just slightly, but I catch it. The corners of her mouth tighten, her brows dip for half a second, and fuck, if that isn’t jealousy flashing through her eyes. I drink it in, knowing that it meant she cared, that she saw something in me worth being possessive over.

“Tell me more about her.”

I close the distance to feel the heat radiating off her skin. Our bodies still move, following the steady rhythm humming through the room.

“My mother was a strong woman. She had a heart of gold and always saw the best in people. Even when things got tough, she never gave up on anyone.”

The music is too heavy for the softness building between us, but we move with it, claiming it as our own anyway.

“She was the kind of person who believed in second chances, even when the world didn’t. And she loved me and Alex more than anything else in this world.”

Faith doesn’t interrupt, but I can feel her watching me, memorizing every word, searching for the cracks in between. I know she’s waiting for me to slip, hoping I’ll hand her the truth. If she wants to look inside, I’ll let her.

I lower my head, letting our foreheads almost touch as her breath brushes against my mouth.

“Ask me one question,” I whisper, letting the space between us vanish completely, “and I’ll answer it honestly.”

“One question,” she repeats.

Her eyes drift across my face, searching for something, and when they settle, they land on my mouth.

“Why haven’t you kissed me?”

I almost laugh because of all the things she could’ve asked, this is what she wants?

“I already know what you’re going to taste like.”

She laughs softly, and a string deep inside me pulls tight, sending a cold shiver down my spine. Her eyes light up with mischief as she turns her head toward the wine bottle.

“I’m pretty sure I taste like wine since I just—”

She turns back to me with her gaze locking onto mine and her lips slightly parted.

And then, just inches from her face, I cut her off with one word, a word that carries too much weight for both of us.

“ Freedom .”

The playfulness disappears from her face. Her lips part, the breath of a thought slipping out, but no sound follows. Her tongue glides over her bottom lip instead.

“That’s what you’re going to taste like.”

I don’t move a muscle and don’t draw a single inhale. I lock eyes with her as if the world depends on whether she’ll hold or break the connection.

“And once I have a taste of that freedom,” I say, stepping even closer, until the heat between us is thick enough to choke on, “I’ll tear down every prison wall, take on anyone who stands between me and my freedom.”

Faith doesn’t back away or hesitate; instead, she meets my gaze with a quiet defiance that unsettles me more than her fear ever could. She’s composed, as though she’s already studied the monster in front of her and made up her mind that she’s not going anywhere.

“Even the people I care about?”

“Especially the people you care about,” I reply, letting a dangerous smile crawl onto my face.

She squares her shoulders as a subtle tremor in her fingertips betrays the calm in her stare.

“And that is one thing I am never going to take from you,” I add, letting the words settle as I close the last bit of the space between us. “I want you to give it to me willingly.”

“And what if I never give it to you willingly?”

“Well, good girl, you’ll have to kiss me at the altar, you know? It’s a tradition.”

Faith rolls her eyes and shoots back, “In that case, I guess you’ll be waiting a lifetime, Zane.”

She’s drawn a line between us and believes I won’t dare to cross it. She thinks that I’ll simply wait patiently in the dark as if that’s where I belong.

She’s so fucking wrong.

I lower my head and brush my lips against her cheek, planting soft, open-mouthed kisses that make her shudder. Her skin resembles the taste of heat and red wine and temptation. My fingers glide up, tracing along her jawline, noticing how her breath stutters the moment I make contact.

“Time and space, they don’t stand a chance when it comes to us.” My teeth graze her earlobe, and I give it a playful nibble that draws a gasp from her lips. It vibrates through me. “I’ll be right there, aligning the stars to rewrite our story in every lifetime.”

She gasps, and fuck, that sound shoots straight to my cock, hardening me in an instant.

“You’ll hide every time you realize you’ve fallen in love with me,” I tease, my breath spilling hot against her ear, “but in each new life...”

My fingers possessively slide down her side. They curve around her waist, pulling her flush to me.

“I’ll hunt you down,” I let the words slip out as I drag my lips closer to hers without touching, “and our love will be like those stars in the night sky, forever aligned.”

Her mouth parts slightly, the words hovering somewhere she can’t quite reach. When she chooses silence instead, I brush the corner of her mouth with a whisper of a kiss.

I trail lower as my mouth drags along her neck, finding the soft curve of her collarbone and sucking gently while my tongue traces the arc of her skin as if following a path I’ve memorized in dreams.

My hands grip her hips, my fingers digging in as I pull her even closer. We’re locked so closely I could almost melt into her with one more breath.

Her hands tangle in my hair, gripping tight as my mouth trails along the curve of her neck again. A low growl rumbles in my throat, drunk on the scent of her, the heat of her skin, the way her body presses back into mine, already surrendering even if she refuses to say it out loud.

“Zane,” a soft sigh escapes her lips.

Her mouth curves around the syllable like a love song I never asked to hear but never want to end. I want her saying my name with that same breathless need, again and again, until it’s the only thing she knows how to say.

I don’t stop. My mouth trails lower, feeding on the taste of her sweat and perfume, a mix so intoxicating it scrapes against every last thread of my restraint.

My hunger for her grows by the second. I want to devour her.

Every inch. Every gasp. Every drop of whatever it is she’s made of that’s undoing me.

Give me one more minute and we’ll be on her bed with our hips locked together, missionary cliché be damned, and I’ll be fucking the soul out of her while losing whatever’s left of mine in the process.

I bite back a growl, pull myself back before I slide completely off the edge.

“I should go,” I barely mean it. My lips hover at her throat. I still can’t stop kissing her.

“Yeah, you probably should,” she breathes, while her body settles closer, dragging the lie behind it.

I begin to turn, the muscles in my back tensing with the effort of walking away, but then her voice calls out.

“Zane, can I give you a hug?”

Her tone sounds sweet, almost innocent, but I know better. That’s not just a hug she’s after, and we both know it. I shoot her a look, the kind that says I see through every inch of her act, but hell, I’m not about to turn down another excuse to feel her body pressed against mine.

“Sure,” I smile deceptively.

She wraps herself around me with her arms sliding tight across my back as her body tenses. She’s up to something, but I don’t stop her.

A sting flares between my shoulder blades, not just piercing but leaving something behind, something meant to slow me, something meant to claim me. It’s surgical, but the weight of it burrows deep.

She pulls away, but my blood’s already on her hands. Literally.

It drips down her palm, staining her skin. I smirk, because of course this is how it ends. Because this is us—seduction laced in betrayal, blood on fingers instead of rings on them.

Faith stumbles back a step with her eyes wide as words begin to spill out in a rush.

“There’s... there’s a lot of blood. God, you need a bandage,” she blubbers, spinning toward an escape she’ll never make.

I lunge forward, grip her hair, and yank her head back with a twist that forces her body to follow. She gasps as I spin her around, my hand still tangled in her strands.

One tear slides down her cheek and traces a path down the center of her chest, slicing between those perfect tits. With my free hand, I grab her bloodied one and bring it up to her mouth. I drag her thumb across her bottom lip, painting her with it.

“What I need,” I growl savagely, “is for you to get on your knees.”

And just like that, the air between us turns to fire.

I bend down and drag my tongue across her cleavage, licking that tear clean off her skin. Faith glares at me, no longer playing the good girl. That act’s long gone, she’s done feeling sorry for shit.

She drops to her knees with her pride intact. I yank at my pants, undoing the button with one hand while the other stays close to her face, just in case she tries something.

“What now? Is that all you’ve got, Zane? Planning to force yourself on me again?”