Page 64 of Sweet Venom

What are you afraid of?I think to myself as she tightens further, almost clenching her teeth.

Something about the whole scene sits wrong with me.

Maybe it’s because I don’t like the idea of my doll being afraid of anyone but me.

Ithasto be that.

Because when I feel her relaxing beneath my palm, I stay there until she’s no longer scared.

And it disturbs me. This…strange feeling that keeps drawing me toward her.

It’s not normal.

Or logical.

And I need to amputate her before she turns into a bigger problem.

14

VIOLET

I’m walking out of my apartment when Mario steps into view.

He came back about a week ago, his arm still wrapped in a sling. I kind of force him to walk with me now and allow me to share my food with him.

He tried to refuse at first, but I can be persistent. Whenever he attempts to keep a distance, I slow down and fall in step beside him. Whenever he refuses the food, I remind him that some people are hungry and he should appreciate the commodity of eating.

I stare at the sullied, gray streets. I used to quicken my steps, my anxiety on high alert, and my heart in my throat.

But that was before I realized there are worse monsters out there. Monsters who dress well, smell divine, and are richer than sin. Monsters who find it fun to mess with someone’s life just because they can.

So I stopped worrying about what’s lurking in the shadows. It also helps that Mario makes me feel safe for some reason. No one would dare come near me when I’m walking beside him, and I think it has to do with his ‘fuck off’ expression that mimics his dear boss’s.

“How are you doing, Mario?” I smile, offering him amint candy. When he doesn’t take it, I place it in his hand and take one for myself.

“You should’ve stayed home,” he says in a firm voice.

“You heard me talking to Toby the other day. I agreed to go on a date.”

“You shouldn’t have.” He releases an exasperated sigh. “You do know I have to report everything back to him, right?”

“I don’t care.” I suck on the candy harder, fighting the urge to crush it between my teeth. It’s mind-boggling how my calm temperament can be easily ruffled at the mention of that bastard.

God, I hate him.

I truly do. I never thought myself capable of hatred, but I despise Jude Callahan.

First, he stalks me, then he says I can’t die until he permits it, as if I’m some marionette, and then he makes me feel like shit every time I see his face, because I failed to save his mom.

But the biggest reason I hate him is because he gave me a taste of something forbidden and wrong but so damn delicious, I keep having dreams about it. His mouth on my pussy and my reaction to his touch, and I wake up with my hands between my legs.

And I hate that the most because I have a low sex drive and have been happily celibate for a while, not even feeling the need to masturbate that often, so I can’t forgive myself for the reaction I had.

It feels…wrong.

And stupid because the truth is, the man I had that reaction with wants to kill me.

Thankfully, I haven’t seen him since the night he ambushed me in the kitchen.