Page 23 of Sweet Venom Of Time (Blade of Shadows #6)

I broke, the fight crumbling inside me as tears streamed hot down my cheeks, flaming against the dungeon’s cold.

“I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you everything!”

My plea hung in the air, trembling, fragile, the last remnant of my fading resistance.

He did not move.

But the energy between us changed—a crackling wire of impatience, his frustration, and urgency tangible in the dimly lit cell.

“I am not known for my patience.”

His words slithered over my skin like a live current, waiting, demanding, giving me nothing but the certainty that one wrong move could end me.

His posture was tense, coiled, lethal—a beast poised to strike, and devour every last truth I possessed.

Each second that passed stretched unbearably, the tension between us thick, suffocating, pressing like a knife against my neck before he touched me.

I forced down the sob clogging my throat, grasping for control, for anything to cling to in the face of my unraveling.

“I found the flower... with my mother.”

The words spilled out, raw, fragile, my voice hoarse from the weight of my betrayal.

“It was a long time ago... in the mountains.”

A shuddering breath.

A moment of hesitation.

And then?—

His grip tightened.

“Keep talking!”

The Black Wraith’s patience frayed, his voice cleaving through the thick, suffocating air.

“She learned about the Noctyss flower. The Bloom of Death.”

The words felt foreign on my tongue, memories rising from the depths of my past like corpses from a forgotten grave.

“My mother was fascinated. She spent years studying it.”

My gaze remained fixed on the floor, unable to meet his, my fear twisting with the echoes of a story I had never spoken aloud.

“And how did you create the poison?”

The question landed like a clean, unrelenting blow—as precise as the knife he held in his gloved hand.

I felt my throat tighten, the burden of a truth I had buried strangling me like a noose.

I had never told anyone.

“My mother created it.”

The confession came out in a trembling breath, my hands shaking, my body bracing for judgment.

“She... she found an old alchemy book. Buried in the dirt.”

The memory was a phantom, whispering its cruel reminders into my ear.

“There were strange messages... written in blood. About Solaris. About how to use the flower.”

The Black Wraith didn’t move, but I felt his focus intensify, his being pressing in like a dark tide swallowing me whole.

“She crafted it to kill my father. To destroy his society.”

A bitter laugh escaped my lips, hollow, devoid of mirth.

“She thought she could control it.”

A pause.

A silence so thick it felt like the walls themselves held their breath.

“But it killed her.”

My voice broke, splintering under the weight of the words.

“That’s how she died. She didn’t know how to use it safely.”

The dungeon was deathly silent, and the air was taut and heavy, charged with something that felt too vast and too dangerous.

The Black Wraith leaned in, his shadow stretching over me like a phantom, swallowing the dim flickers of light that dared remain.

“So.” His voice was a low, menacing rumble, resonating through the stone walls.

“Your mother couldn’t control it—but you took over.”

It wasn’t a question.

It was an accusation.

I nodded, my lips parting as I dragged in a shallow, uneven breath.

“I had no choice!”

The words tumbled out, broken, raw with desperation and grief.

Tears slid down my cheeks, unbidden, unstoppable, staining my already fragile resolve.

“I was trying to master it! To use it for good!”

I gasped, my heartbeat pounding like thunder in my ears.

“I didn’t want anyone to die! I only wanted to stop those monsters from their cruelty!”

My chest heaved, my world spinning, the weight of my confession pressing against me like iron shackles.

“You crafted something you didn’t understand,” he accused, his gaze slashing straight through me. “And in doing so, you killed your brothers.”

Panic fluttered in my chest like a trapped bird. “No! That wasn’t my intention! You set the fire,” I shot back, my voice trembling despite my attempt at bravery.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice a menacing whisper.

“I am a killer. A ruthless, efficient killer. I destroy societies for a reason—because of what they do. But you?” His eyes gleamed with something cold, something final.

“You had no right to interfere. You don’t understand the power you’ve unleashed or the game you’re playing. ”

His words coiled around me like a noose, tightening with each syllable. There was no remorse in his tone, no hesitation—just the raw, unwavering conviction of a man who had seen, had done too much, and would not be stopped.

Memories of fire and screams tore through my mind like jagged glass. My heart thundered as the words clawed their way out. “How did you survive France? I threw the last of my poison at you. No one walks away from that—the rest ended up broken, twisted… or dead.”

His laughter echoed off the stone walls, jagged and cruel.

“Do you want to know how I survived, my sweet venom?” His voice was almost mocking, his eyes dark with something unnatural.

“Snakes. Deadly Inland Taipans, to be exact. They slithered over me, injecting their venom again and again until it ran through my veins like liquid fire.”

I froze. “Snakes?” I breathed, barely able to comprehend. “That should have killed you.”

“Indeed. They would have killed an ordinary man. But I am not ordinary.” He stepped closer, his voice smooth, assured. “I am darkness.”

A shiver traced down my spine, as cold as the stone walls around us, yet heat pooled deep within me. “Darkness?” My voice barely rose above a whisper. “What do you mean?”

He was close now—too close. His breath warmed my skin, sending every nerve into chaos. “A darkness is a creature that kills every day to survive,” he murmured. “I inhale a person’s soul to keep my strength.”

My stomach tightened, dread curling like a serpent within me. “You kill to survive? You... inhale souls?” The words trembled from my lips, laced with terror—and something else—a dark, twisted curiosity.

“Every day.” He said it so simply, as if he were stating the time, and at that moment, I understood the true meaning of fear. And it wore the face of the Black Wraith.

Yet, despite the suffocating terror, something deeper—something far more dangerous—pulled me toward him. He was a contradiction, a monstrous and magnetic force, and I was caught in his gravity.

His fingers tangled in my hair without warning, yanking my head back with ruthless force. A gasp escaped me, sudden and unbidden. My neck lay bare before him, vulnerable, exposed.

Though the mask concealed most of his face, something in the way he looked at me—his stillness, the tilt of his head, the subtle tension—made it clear. His hunger was palpable. Behind the wicked teeth of the mask he licked his lips, slowly, as if savoring the anticipation of a feast.

I should have been repulsed, should have recoiled. But instead, something ignited within me—a wildfire of fear and fascination. The terror twisting inside me blurred into something far more dangerous—desire.

“I’m not a killer,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

“I never meant for it to go that far. They were corrupt—vile—but they deserved justice, not death.” A tear slid down my cheek, but I didn’t look away.

“The poison was meant to stop them, not... that fire. That was you. You turned retribution into a massacre. You burned them alive.”

The Black Wraith’s breath ghosted over my skin, sending a shiver through me.

“I put them out of their suffering,” he murmured, his voice rich with something intoxicating.

“Elizabeth, we are reflections of each other in this dark mirror of life. We both wield the power of death.” His tone was laced with dangerous certainty as though he were speaking an undeniable truth.

“You may cloak yourself in righteousness, but our hands are equally stained.”

I twisted in his grasp, but his fingers were iron, unrelenting. “No,” I hissed, the word slicing through the thick air between us with finality. “You know nothing of my heart.”

His laugh was low, cruel, knowing. “Ah, but I do.”

Pain lanced through my scalp as he tightened his hold, the ruthless tug forcing my head back further. My chest rose and fell rapidly, betraying the storm inside me.

“Your father’s ignorance of your true nature is a fragile shield, Elizabeth,” he murmured, his lips barely grazing mine as the jaw of the mask seemed to separate, the heat of his breath igniting something deep within me. “And should it shatter, his wrath will be merciless.”

Then, without hesitation, he seized me.

His mask pressed hard against my face, the protrusions biting into my skin—then his mouth found mine, desperate, unrelenting.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was fire crashing into fire, a raw, devouring claim that pulled me into the storm with him.

I felt his hunger, his fury, the way he stripped me bare with every breathless second.

I gasped against him, and he swallowed the sound, leaning over me as I sat shackled to the unyielding chair. His hand traced down my body with a boldness that sent shivers tearing through me.

There was no patience, no tenderness—only possession, only need. My body arched, instinctively seeking more, a treacherous fire began low in my stomach, coiling tighter with every brush of his tongue against mine.

This was no act of love.

It was dark, desperate, a sin-soaked surrender.

His fingers tightened in my hair, yanking my head back with a ruthless dominance that sent a molten shiver down my spine. “You crave it, don’t you?” he whispered against my lips, his voice a velvet trap of seduction and danger. “The darkness in you begging to be claimed by mine.”

I should have denied it. I should have pushed him away. But my traitorous body pressed closer, my lips parting in silent invitation.