Page 11 of Poison Touch (Monarch Vipers #1)

The heaviness of their scrutiny falling against my back is enough to weigh a girl down. Standing with the rest of the group, I switch gears and do my best to ignore them. I play with the clasp on my bracelet. Realizing it’s a nervous gesture, I consciously stop and fold my arms over my chest.

“All right, class, we’re going to start with the end of the alphabet.” There’s a mix of more groans with added cheers.

“Zepher, you’re up first.”

A guy with tousled light brown hair who looks like he should be the head of the chess club walks up to the rope.

I’ve learned enough during my martial arts training never to judge someone by their appearance.

You never know what they’re capable of. I did that only once at a tournament.

As soon as the ref lowered his arm for the fight to begin, I was on my ass.

But in this case, by the sweat already beading on Zepher’s brow, I’d bet I’m correct with my assumption of him.

Zepher turns out not to be a surprise. He twists his fingers with nervous energy, as though the coach asked him to gather the arrows during the middle of an archery competition and not climb a harmless rope.

He wipes his palms on his gym shorts before grabbing the rope.

The coach blows the whistle. Zepher barely pulls himself up.

His arms strain as he tries to lift off the ground.

His sneakers slip as he tries to brace himself for another upward pull.

It’s a no-go. The poor guy can only get a few feet off the ground before sliding back down.

I hate to be the one to break it to him, but if the zombie apocalypse ever happens, this guy is for sure a goner.

His major must require fitness, or else I bet he would save himself from this torture.

The coach marks something on his clipboard before calling my name. “Next up, West.”

My head snaps from Zepher to the coach. Here we go. I tie the laces of my boots before striding to the center of the group. Everyone stares at me as I take my place at the foot of the rope.

I wipe my hands on my shorts before I grip it just above the knot. For some unknown reason, I glance over my shoulder. Edge’s granite-hard glare is aimed right at me. My heart pounds more for all the unwanted attention than for the task.

The whistle sounds loud and shrill. I pull up with my arms as my legs wrap around the rope and push my body upward as I continue to pull with my arms. My arms begin to burn a little just over the halfway mark.

But there’s no way I’m going to fail at this.

I focus on moving up as fast as I can and try to ignore the tug low in my side from where the knife’s blade sliced through my flesh, concentrating only on the golden bell above me.

Cheers from below me fade as I tune them out.

I use my legs with as much leverage as I can to heave myself up.

A few seconds later, I ring the bell at the top as the whistle sounds. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly as I slide down the rope. When my boots touch the floor, I’m able to relax a bit, even though my heart is still racing. I place my hand over my side and cradle the still-tender wound.

“Holy shit,” someone says.

“She’s like Spider-Woman.”

“That’s got to beat Edge’s time.”

“Don’t count on it,” a deep voice says behind me.

Edge’s thick arms are crossed over his impressive chest as his slate eyes narrow and zero in on me.

I should probably get used to that look—the one with the tsunami constantly stirring in them whenever he has them focused on me.

Having had enough of Venom for now, I maneuver to the opposite side of the class.

“Hey, you’re new, right?” The guy is a couple of inches taller than me, with light brown hair and soft hazel eyes.

“Yep, how’d ya guess?”

He’s the type of guy most moms would be happy for their daughter to bring home—hence, the complete opposite of the Venom guys hovering on the other side of the group.

He chuckles. “Sorry, that was lame.”

“Yeah,” I agree.

“Hey, listen, you were amazing. I mean, no one has ever climbed the rope that fast. Well, except for those guys over there.”

I know who he’s talking about without looking in Venom’s direction. What are they, like gods at this school? “Yeah, it was no big thing.”

“Actually, it is. If you beat Edge’s time, you’re not only a real badass, you’ve set a new record.”

“If you say so.” The feat might be big to some, but as long as it got me an A, I’d be happy.

He chuckles. “I’m Josh, by the way.”

“Kinsley.”

He plays with a loose string from the hem of his shirt. “This school isn’t one for making newcomers feel very welcome—we actually never get any.”

I scoff. “Thanks for the heads-up, but I got that the instant I stepped on campus.”

“It isn’t their fault. They’ve— Well, we’ve all known each other since grade school.”

I know what he’s trying to say. It was the same at my last school. We all stuck together. Even if we hated each other, it was better than letting some newbie into our pack. “Yeah, I get it.”

Another student is called to the rope. She gets farther than Zepher but doesn’t make it to the top.

“Listen, maybe if people see you out, not on campus?—”

“You’re joking, right?” What would make him think I would voluntarily hang out with people who don’t like me?

He jumps in to explain when he sees the what-the-hell expression on my face. “No, I’m serious. Just hear me out.”

Each student is called to the rope one by one. Only a few come close to reaching the top. Of those, even fewer can reach high enough to ring the bell. Most of them probably haven’t had nearly the training that I’ve had or the abuse I’ve sometimes put my body through to be better than my opponents.

Josh continues to talk endlessly. Although it’s not as irritating as it should be. His droning prevents my attention from navigating toward Venom. I play with the ends of my hair to do something useless with my hands.

The coach calls his next victim in a loud voice that booms across the gymnasium. “Hunt.”

Everyone goes quiet. My attention falters from Josh to Edge, who purposely makes a point to walk around the back of the crowd and come up alongside me before heading to the rope.

As he peers down at me, a secret smirk touches the corner of his mouth.

Neither of us moves. Deep in his heated stare is something raw and primal, a reckless need snaring more than my curiosity.

It only lasts for a brief moment, but it’s long enough to awaken the interests I felt earlier.

Fuck! The second the connection breaks, I blink a few times to dissolve whatever just transpired.

I swear the guy’s got to be into voodoo or some shit to make me feel that tug to him whenever he looks at me like that.

“Watch out, little girl.” His voice is gruff and threatening.

“So now I’m little girl, not Ninja?”

His mouth settles into a cruel grin. “I haven’t decided yet.”

He makes his way to the rope and grips the length of it.

His eyes never leave mine until the whistle blows.

His muscles bulge as he scales the rope with graceful speed.

He’s in a different dimension altogether from the other students.

His legs grip around the rope, pushing him upward.

It’s more than impressive to watch. I hate to admit that I wish the rope were higher so I can continue to watch the muscles in his sculpted body contract and define with each movement.

He rings the bell.

I can’t help the satisfied smirk spreading over my lips as his feet touch the floor. He knows I beat him. And any second, the entire class will know, too.

The coach announces his time, then adds, “Hunt, it’s a new record for you, but you were just shy of West. She took you this time. She beat you by seven-tenths of a second.” He jots the time on his clipboard. “You better watch out for her.”

I couldn’t have said it better myself.

With less than one freaking second, I have officially gained bragging rights against the big bad Viper himself. Not wanting to draw too much attention, I hold my smile inward.

After a few more people are called to participate in the drill, the coach dismisses the class for the day.

Just when I think I’m done with the drama, Edge steps into my path. “Not so fast.”

I’m still too far down the confining hall from the ladies’ locker room to ignore him and duck into its safety.

On their way to the locker room, the group of girls slows their pace.

Edge waits for them to pass, then uses his broad body to inch me closer to the wall.

With my back against the bricks, he leans in and props his hands against the wall behind me, caging me in.

I tilt my head up. Playing the sassy girl card, I say, “Oh wait! You’re not one of those burly sexist assholes who have their one feeling hurt if a little girl beats them, are you?”

“Hardly.”

“Well, it’s like I said this morning, don’t take it personally.” I duck under his arm. “If you play nice, maybe I’ll let you win next time.”

A hint of a smile plays on his full lips before he quickly shuts it down. “I want a rematch.”

“Yeah, well, I want a lot of things, too, but a rematch isn’t one of them.”

“Are you afraid you won’t beat me a second time?”

I throw up my hands and walk backward. “Nah, that’s not it. I don’t want to have anything to do with helping you stroke that already too-big ego of yours.”

His friends snicker behind him.

Catching me off guard, he asks, “What does that dragon stand for?” He nods at my forearm.

“It’s personal. And I don’t think a day will come when we’ll ever be that close.”

“Are you saying we won’t be friends?” His deep voice displays a hint of teasing. I didn’t think he was capable, but there it is.

“That’s precisely what I’m saying. You made that perfectly clear this morning.” I wink. “Maybe in the next life.”

I turn away from him, keeping my eyes downcast to avoid getting lured back into his visual trap again.

Walking the short distance to the locker room, I’m surprised and happy when the big man doesn’t follow me.

Without showering, I change back into my uniform and stuff my gym clothes into my bag to take them home to wash.

“Nice job out there.” The girl who told me about the coach running gym class like a boot camp brushes out her ginger hair and offers me a hesitant smile.

I realize now that she’s the same girl I asked how to get here before Brielle showed up.

Her face falls a fraction. “Listen, I’m sorry about earlier. Brielle can make things difficult.”

I nod. “I get it.” And I did. “No worries.”

“I’m Marissa, by the way.”

“I’m Kinsley.”

She closes her locker. “The only ones who have ever come close to Edge’s time are the rest of the Venom. So, I must say that it’s bad that a girl could take him down—even with all those skills… and rock-hard muscles.” Her smile goes dreamy as she describes my archenemy.

“Yeah,” I say, grabbing my backpack to head out.

Josh is waiting for me outside the locker room.

I raise an eyebrow. “This isn’t creepy.”

He shrugs. “Maybe a little. Anyway, like I was suggesting earlier, about you hanging out. I wanted to invite you to a party that’s happening this Saturday. It’s at Tristan’s beach house. It’ll go all day, so you can get there whenever you want.”

“Who’s Tristan?” Knowing how these kinds of parties work, having been to a ton of them, I don’t care who Tristan is. These parties are an excuse to hook up and get drunk. Which really isn’t my scene.

“All you need to know is he’s a guy who throws awesome parties.” He forces a laugh.

I shrug one shoulder. “Sure,” I say, having no intention of going.

Josh’s face lights up. “Yeah, all right. Cool. Bring your bathing suit… and yeah, we’ll chill out, drink, party, and you can get to know everybody.”

“Sounds fun,” I lie.

“All right, see you later.” He smiles like he just won the giant teddy bear at the fair and walks away, holding the biggest prize.

Turning the corner, I come face to face with Venom. I swear to fuck I must have a giant snake magnet on my ass.

Edge does his usual and blocks my path. “Where ya headed?”

“Why do you care?” I try to move around him. With his body being the size of a small country, I make no progress. Giving in, I say, “psychology.”

Edge slides his eyes to Kade, then back to me. “We’ll see you there, little Ninja.”

Are you effing kidding me? “Sports medicine?” I say, unable to hide my disdain, and praying that I’m wrong and we don’t have the same major.

His grin widens in response. And I wish he wouldn’t smile like that, consciously or unconsciously trying to drown me under his hellish spell. “Well, isn’t that a coincidence?” I scoff.

“It is. And I look forward to making your life hell.”

Even as he delivers his threat, his deep, throaty chuckle is as menacing as it is sexy. I wonder if he knows it. By the way his slate eyes glimmer, he definitely knows it. “Lucky me.”

I swear to the gods. Tonight, I’m getting on my knees and praying, asking them what the fuck I did to deserve this.