Page 146 of Sweet Venom

Maybe I thought Jude would take me home or, I don’t know, just drive his bike around like he usually does in the morning—lingering on longer routes before we reach campus.

Instead, he stops at the top of a hill overlooking the town.

I’m slightly apprehensive about the whole night. Not only is this the first time I’ve worn a dress in over a decade, but we also left Preston with Marcus, who looked like he’d hurt him.

However, the strongest reason why I’m on edge is Jude.

He’s been tense and silent the entire ride.

He kills the bike’s engine with a flick of his wrist. The sudden heavy silence stretches wide over the cloudy night, broken only by the distant rustle of wind through the trees.

I hesitantly pull my hands from around his waist, and he hops off and walks to the edge of the hill.

Rubbing my arms, I do the same, my heart beating loudly. The chill stings, slipping under my clothes, biting at the skin of my exposed hands.

The earthy scent of winter is laced with the faintest trace of smoke from chimneys burning somewhere far below.

Graystone Ridge unfolds beneath us in a vast sprawl ofwinding streets and towering buildings, their golden lights flickering like tiny stars trapped behind glass.

The town looks peaceful from this distance, softened by the night, but the view does nothing to calm the faint disturbance clinging to my bones.

Jude stares at the horizon, both hands in his jeans pockets. The wind tugs at the loose strands of his dark hair, and even as he fixates on the town, he doesn’t look like he belongs to the world below. He belongs to the dark, deep, and mysterious night.

His shoulders are rigid, every line of him drawn with tension I don’t understand the reason behind.

Well, I do.

I think he’s mad that I was with Preston. I know he doesn’t like that we’ve gotten close, but then again, he’s never been like this whenever he joins us for lunch.

And I’m not supposed to feel this bad.

Don’t blame yourself for others’ actions or fluctuating emotions or what you can’t control, right?

Yeah, I need time to apply that to my life, because I’m tugging at my dress, wishing I’d worn jeans instead. This whole thing was a huge mistake, it seems.

Standing a short distance away, I pretend to be mesmerized by the view. “You think Preston will be okay?”

I realize my mistake when Jude cocks his head in my direction, his eyes glinting like a feral beast’s. When he speaks, his voice is calm but edgy. “Why are you asking?”

“I’m just worried about him. Marcus is bad news from what I’ve heard, and Preston seemed off.”

That doesn’t ease Jude’s expression.

If anything, a deep line appears between his eyebrows, and his nostrils flare. “You’re worried about him.”

It’s not a question, but I nod. “Aren’t you worried about him, too? Surely, you know Marcus is violent. Have you seen his busted knuckles?”

“I’m violent, too. Does that make me a threat to Preston, whom you’re so worried about?”

“You guys are best friends.”

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t hurt him. After all, he was comfortable flirting with what’s mine.”

I bite the inside of my cheek and flick my thumb over my wrist. “So that’s what you’re mad about?”

“Mad? Try fucking enraged, Violet.” He storms in my direction, and I gasp when he wraps a huge arm around my waist and pulls me flush against him. “I don’t like others coveting what’s fucking mine, especially when you look like this.”

“You should’ve killed me, then.” I look away, my stomach falling at his words.