Page 109 of Sweet Venom

Slap.

I don’t know how I do it, how I lift my hand and just slap him, but I do. Because how dare he insinuate anything about my sister? I’ll stab him to death if he ever hurts her, even with words.

My breaths are heavy as I stare at him, expecting his usual anger, but I’m slammed with a smile.

Almost as if he’s…proud of me? Why would he be proud?

I think he’ll say something, but Dahlia runs in our direction and drags me to her side. “Go away, Jude!”

My heart thunders when he glares at her. I swear I’ll turn into the most toxic person if he causes her harm.

And I tell him that with my eyes when he looks at me.Touch her and I’ll hurt you, Jude.

I don’t know how I’ll do that, but I’ll figure out a way.

Instead of using his fists or force like he usually does, Jude actually walks away, and I release a long, fractured breath.

I’ve been overthinkingsince last night.

Dahlia joined Kane and the others to celebrate the Vipers’ win but then came straight here to spend the night with me. She was visibly concerned about the way Jude cornered me.

I told her not to worry and even said I’d be fine on my own today, catching up on orders and sleep.

And while it’s true I need to fulfill the order for one of my favorite clients, UnderTheUmbrella, who keeps paying me more than I deserve, I don’t like being alone.

“I should probably get up and change from the bathrobeI threw on last night into my pj’s, but I don’t feel like it.” I squeeze my eyes shut, trembling slightly, because the thought of sleep still terrifies me. I can feel the shadows lurking in the room, even though I keep the light on low.

Ever since Mama died, I’ve always had some form of light on when I go to sleep, having spent too much time in that oppressive closet. Pitch darkness sends a shiver of trepidation down my spine.

As I drift off, I keep picturing Jude’s face from last night.

And as I fall into slumber, I feel big hands wrap around my waist.

He’s always rough and impatient in these types of dreams, his massive body looming over me like a threat.

A promise.

A possibility.

And it makes me rub my thighs together, the friction doing nothing to scratch at the hidden ache.

The need for…something.

Hot breaths, warm skin, and that intoxicating cologne I can’t help but sniff and breathe into my lungs.

God, he smells good.

Feelsgood.

And forbidden.

I shouldn’t want a monster this deeply, shouldn’t wish for him to visit me in my dreams instead of the ghost of my mother.

Because unlike her, he doesn’t call me names, doesn’t remind me that I’m back to being alone, that I’ll die alone, that someone like me doesn’t deserve any form of companionship or happiness.

No.

Not like that.