Page 103 of Lovely Venom

Still, I thrash my arms, kick my legs, and claw at his grip. My tantrum barely breaks his stride. He hauls me up over his shoulder like he’s a fireman saving me from the flames.

“Put me down, you stubborn maniac.”

“Not a fucking chance.” His voice is raw and furious, the first real indication he’s mad at me.

I pound my fists against his back, but he doesn’t so much as flinch. “You can’t justkeepme like this.”

“Watch me, Venom.” He stomps back to his apartment, one powerful arm locked over my thighs.

That door gets bigger with every step, and the once charming, hidden lair now looks like a prison.

“Please.” I was stupid to run. But I’m alsoterrifiedto stay.

“I’d rather hear you beg for something else.” He kicks open his door.

When he slams it shut, the outside world disappears before my eyes.

With his body coiled in tension, he strides straight to the bedroom. He dumps me onto the bed, and I barely have time to scramble up before he climbs on top of me.

One knee sinks into the mattress near my ribs, the other wedged between my thighs as he cages me in with his arms. His face hovers just inches from mine. His breath is fast and heavy.

Those bright blue eyes are wild and stormy. They demand answers I don’t have the breath to give.

His brothers may laugh off his unhinged ways and his sharp humor, but the man staring down at me right now is as serious as nuclear war.

“How could you just run off?” His grip on me tightens. “After everything I told you. After the promises I made. After the night we had.”

And I don’t think he means the sex. How I killed for him. How I saved him. How Ichosehim. But I feel like I’ve lost myself in the process.

It all catches up to me: what I did, the stand I took, and what that choice to save Connor means. My throat tightens, and suddenly everything comes crashing down on me.

I feel my lungs seize as every breath shallows out. I can’t fucking breathe.

CHAPTER FORTY

Connor

Raina claws at her chest like she’s trying to tunnel a hole right into her lungs for air. Her lips are turning a sickening shade of blue that signals death to me.

“Venom,” my voice cracks. “What’s wrong?”

She doesn’t answer me. There’s just wheezing, choking, and gasping that awful, scratchy noise that doesn’t sound human.

I hop off her immediately, realizing I’m an elephant sitting on her fucking chest. “What, what the fuck is this?”

“Asthma.” Her wild and glassy eyes roll into the back of her skull as she attempts to suck in another breath. Her hands scrabble toward the nightstand, knocking shit over.

“Aw fuck, baby, what do I do?”

“My...gear pack,” she hoarsely whispers. “Need...my spray.”

Eagle-eyed, I gaze around the room and see a leather shoulder bag lazily tossed in the corner. I dive for it and empty it in front of her.

A clunky blue and grey thing with a mouthpiece falls out. I leave the rest on the ground and shove the inhaler in her hand. “Here, baby.”

She wraps her lips around it and presses the container down. But it does nothing.

She shakes it and takes another hit. “No. Don’t...be empty.”