Page 62 of Craving Venom (The Venomous Beauty Trilogy #1)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

THE MONSTER

S he doesn’t look away.

Most people can’t hold my stare for more than a few seconds. Fear always makes them look away. But Faith? She holds my gaze with an intensity that rivals my own.

And fuck if I don’t want to see how far she’ll go.

The cigarette smolders between my fingers as smoke curls lazily into the air. She thinks that distance between us protects her but it doesn’t.

Every breath she takes, every move she makes, it’s all leading her closer to the moment when she realizes she’s always been mine. And through it all, I’ll be watching. Waiting. Owning it.

The smoke forms a barrier, but she’s leaning into it, breathing it in as if it’s pulling her closer.

My lips curl around the cigarette as I take another drag, letting the heat burn through me, but all I taste is her.

And when I blow the smoke out, I picture it wrapping around her throat, a fucking collar claiming her before I’ve even touched her.

And I will.

I’ll possess her so completely that even her own shadow will envy me.

She stays so fucking still, frozen like she’s scared one wrong move will tear this apart. But she’s dead wrong, because what I feel isn’t fragile; it’s savage and it’s not going anywhere. And when she finally sees that for herself, there won’t be a piece of her left that doesn’t belong to me.

“Alright, Valehart.”

The guard steps between us, and I recline in my chair, tapping the ash off the end of my cigarette as if I wasn’t just ready to fucking devour my girl.

“Lunch’s over,” he grunts. “Time to get you back in cuffs.”

I grin, curling my lips around the filter one last time before taking a final drag.

“Already?” I blow the smoke out slowly, my eyes staying locked on Faith the entire time. “And I was just starting to enjoy my meal.”

“Move.”

The guard’s tone is firm, but I don’t rush as I rise slowly, stretching to let the tension drain from my shoulders while he grabs the thick, heavy cuffs and locks them around my wrists.

The library is quieter than before, the students scattered across the tables, some taking notes, others pretending to care about the worn-out books lining the shelves.

But I’m not here for them, and it doesn’t take long before I find her.

Faith stands by the shelves with her back to me, her fingers tugging at a book jammed too tight between the others, and somehow even the way she struggles with a book makes me want her.

“Zane.”

I hear Shirley clear her throat as her footsteps draw closer from the opposite end.

“Behave,” she warns.

“Me?” I tilt my head, the chain between my cuffs rattling as I take a slow step toward her. “I’m always on my best behavior.”

“Funny. That’s not what the reports say.”

“Reports can be misleading.” I shrug.

“Where are you headed?”

“Just stretching my legs.” My eyes drift back to where Faith is still wrestling with the book.

“Stay where I can see you.”

“Of course.” I smirk, sidestepping her effortlessly.

Try and stop me.

I move toward Faith, dragging the chain along with me, but she doesn’t hear it.

Her focus stays locked on the damn book until she feels me.

Her body goes completely still, so unnervingly still.

I don’t touch her, not yet, but I’m close enough that her fingers freeze mid-tug on the spine of the book.

“Breathe, baby.”

For a second, I think she won’t, but then her chest rises as she pulls in a shaky breath, dragging air into her lungs.

“Good girl.”

I step in closer, near enough for her to sense me as the chains rattle.

“Need some help?”

Her fingers tighten around the book, but she still doesn’t turn.

“You look… stuck.”

I don’t miss the way her body presses back, just slightly, testing how close I am without giving in completely.

“Let me.” I press my lips so close to her ear I feel her shiver. Her hands slacken, enough for me to reach around her and brush my fingers against hers as I grip the book.

The book slides free, but I let her go.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

Her shoulders square, and I can already tell she’s about to snap back, her sharp tongue itching to put me in my place before I even give her the chance.

“Miss? Everything okay here?”

A guard steps toward us and his eyes narrow slightly as they move between me and her.

Faith’s lips part, but I beat her to it.

“Relax.” I scoff, giving him the same look I’d give a fly buzzing too close.

“Just helping her.” I hold up the book. “She was stuck.”

“Right.” His tone’s clipped. “Move along.”

I step back, handing Faith the book.

“Careful, baby,” I speak softly so only she can hear. “Wouldn’t want you getting lost in the wrong section.”

Her jaw clenches, but I’m already gone.

I settle into one of the chairs near the back, the cuffs rattling as I stretch out, crossing one ankle over my knee.

Faith hesitates for a moment. Then, without looking at me, she moves to the opposite side of the table, clutching the book.

The other students file in, chit-chattering amongst themselves. Some glance my way, pretending not to stare. Faith, though? She stares down at her notes.

She’s trying so hard not to look at me.

Dr. Harrington enters next with his too-tight suit straining around his gut as he clears his throat and plasters on that fake professionalism as if it somehow makes him immune to the criminals around him.

“Alright, everyone. Settle in. We’re going to begin the Q&A session. Let’s start simple. Who has a question for the inmates?”

They start with the easier questions. The ones they think will give them insight into the minds of criminals.

“Why do you think people end up here?”

“Do you believe prison changes people?”

Basic.

Bullshit.

The inmates answer. Some with rehearsed lines. Others with cocky grins, throwing out sob stories they think will make them seem more human.

Faith’s hunched over her notes, pouring everything into them, keeping her head down and hoping that ignoring me will somehow make me disappear.

Not a fucking chance.

My eyes stay on her.

“Mr. Valehart…”

The fake sugary voice cuts through the silence, dragging my attention to the redhead sitting a few rows away.

I don’t even need to look directly at her to know exactly what I’m dealing with.

She has that bright smile, wide eager eyes, and legs crossed as she leans forward, practically begging me to notice her.

“Considering you grew up in a mansion the size of our college campus,” she purrs, probably thinking it sounds seductive, “how was it… adjusting to a tiny space like this?”

The way she drags out tiny makes me want to laugh.

“Tiny?” I echo, but the mockery is fucking obvious. “It’s not the size that matters, sweetheart. It’s what you do with it.”

Her cheeks flush immediately, and a few muffled laughs break out from the other students. Across the room, Faith’s grip on her pen tightens, and for a second, I wonder if she even realizes how much she gives away without saying a word.

“What’s the worst part about being in prison?”

“Being surrounded by idiots.”

Laughter ripples through the group, but I’m already done with them.

Another guy with a clean-cut look and glasses, the kind of kid who probably spends too much time analyzing people who move through the world the way I do, just for fun.

“Do you ever miss that life? The cars? The luxury?”

“I don’t waste time missing things that don’t fucking matter.”

A guy with a buzz cut clears his throat.

“Do you… um… regret choosing not to take the plea deal?”

I arch a brow. “What do you think?”

The poor fucker looks like he wants to crawl under the table. “I mean…” He glances at Harrington, who’s standing nearby, watching closely. “You could’ve had a lighter sentence. Less time.”

“And?” I give him a blank stare. “What the fuck would I do with less time? Knit?”

A few students laugh nervously, but I’m not done.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s twenty years or life,” I say, resting my hand against the table. “I’m still exactly where I want to be.”

The laughter dies fast, smothered under the weight of it. No one says a damn thing. No one even breathes too loud. They just sit there, staring, finally starting to understand that I’m not the one who lost. And when the room can’t get any heavier, a question punctures the calm.

“Is it possible for a man like you to fall in love?”

I swing my gaze toward it, finding Tria sitting next to Xaden. It’s not an innocent question. It’s a fucking test, and the answer, whether they know it or not, already belongs to Faith.

Tria glances at Faith for half a second, just enough for me to catch it, before shifting her gaze back to me.

Ah.

That explains it.

Tria’s not here to make small talk. She’s fishing, and if I had to guess, Faith hasn’t breathed a word to her about me. Not about the way I have fucked her mind, not about the way I have crawled under her skin and made myself at home there.

But best friends don’t need explanations.

They don’t need stories. They can feel it.

That’s her best friend radar kicking in.

Too bad the truth about me is nothing pretty.

I meet Tria’s stare for only a second before I turn back to Faith, already knowing it will not be the last time her best friend tries to save her.

“I am in love.”

The quiet lasts barely a breath before the redhead pipes up again. “But how can you be in love when you’ve already killed the ones you loved?”

The question’s meant to provoke but it doesn’t.

“Love and death are two sides of the same coin. You don’t choose one without understanding the other. You don’t hold someone close without knowing the price of losing them.”

The redhead stares, clearly trying to process my words. She drags her thumb along the seam of her notebook, as though she’s searching for validation.