Page 1 of Venom (St. Sebastian’s at Cravenmoor Academy #1)

Viper

T he second her stiletto hits the stage, she has my attention.

My gaze rakes over her from my vantage point as the music thumps out a beat.

Narrowing my eyes, I immediately sense there is something different about her.

She doesn’t belong here. She reaches for the pole and swings slowly around it, riling up the crowd to levels I’ve rarely witnessed in the dark atmosphere of Perfect Tens, the strip club where fantasy is the name of the game.

This woman, she is pure, unadulterated fantasy.

Her long blonde hair swings around her as she leisurely gives these guys and girls exactly what they want.

She is practically falling out of her white bikini with tits that could only be described as glorious.

My gaze drops over her flat stomach, and I raise an eyebrow when she twists her leg around the pole and bends backwards, so her tits jiggle far too enticingly.

I don’t usually lust after the dancers, but she… there is something about her.

“Who the fuck is that?” I ask Landon, my second-in-command. I don’t recognise her, and I make it my business to know all my dancers.

Landon glances up from his phone. “New girl. Summer Heat.”

Summer Heat.

“When did she start?”

“Tonight.”

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why is she here?”

“She wanted a job, and have you seen her? Seen the crowd. She did a demonstration, and poor Eric’s eyes nearly fell out of his head.”

I scoff. Eric is too wet behind the ears. Too eager to give a pretty girl the world. I’m going to have to have a word with him about this. “Why wasn’t she run past me?”

Landon shrugs. “Who the fuck cares? She’s got them eating out of her hand.”

Scowling, I turn back to look at her. I can’t deny that assessment.

The crowd are practically drooling over her.

Some of the regulars, guys who have no business being near a woman, are edging closer, their eyes fixed on this woman.

They can sense, like I can, that she’s different.

That she doesn’t belong. She has a class to her that screams she was brought up on the right side of the city.

So why the fuck is she here, dancing in my club, and I didn’t even know about it?

She twirls, and her gaze meets mine.

I scowl further, not taking her on, not giving her what she wants.

But when she reaches around and pulls on the strings holding her top together and it falls away to reveal those glorious tits, those nipples pink and hard, my cock stands to attention.

She smiles and saunters towards me as most of the guys throw money at her, but she doesn’t notice. Her gaze is on me.

I sit back in my chair and give her a challenging stare. Does she dare come to me?

Apparently, she does dare. She places her hand on a guy’s head to balance herself as she steps off the stage. He reaches for her tits, but she slaps his hand away.

Do. Not. Touch.

I let out a low snarl and shoot the arsehole a death stare that has him back under control.

Everyone knows who I am in here. Everyone knows not to fuck with me.

Yet, this girl clearly has no idea, as she stops in front of me and then slides her hot little body onto my lap.

“Lap dance?” she asks, her cultured accent proving to me she isn’t a regular in these places.

Narrowing my eyes, I sit back and give her permission.

She smiles seductively and grinds down on my semi-hard cock. I stifle my groan as her hips rotate, and she applies more pressure. Her tits are in my face, but I don’t drop my gaze from hers. It infuriates her, which amuses me. Now it’s a game of who will break first.

News flash. It won’t be me. No woman breaks me.

She runs her hand up my arms, over the snake tattoos, before she places her hands on my chest in an almost possessive gesture. My breathing becomes deeper as my cock goes so stiff, I feel my balls aching to shoot my load.

It’s… interesting.

This kind of reaction to her is disturbing.

“Fuck, girlie, you’re going to make me come in my pants,” I mutter and see the look of triumph in her bold green eyes.

She slides her pussy along the length of my dick, and I loosely grip her hips to keep her there. This is violating every fucking rule I have, but I don’t give a shit.

Leaning back slightly, I hook my fingers into the sides of her bikini.

She smiles slowly, begging me with her eyes to rip them off her.

The little red laser dot that slides down her throat is a punch to the gut.

“Get down!” I roar, and in one motion, I have her on the ground, covering her body with mine as the bullet whizzes over us, missing its target. “Fuck!” I’m on my feet in under two seconds, reaching for the gun at my back. Illegal in this country, but the rules don’t apply to me.

“Shit!” Summer cries out, and in a move that is definitely trained, she gets to her feet and disappears into the screaming crowd.

Landon is at the window already.

“What do you see?” I snarl, crossing over to him and glaring at the hole in the glass. I’m not too concerned about a bullet hitting me in the head. They were after “Summer”, not me, and they missed. They are long gone.

“Nothing,” Landon growls, stepping back from the shattered pane. “Gone. The shot came from the rooftop opposite.”

Of course it fucking did. Professional. Clean. Except for the part where they missed.

My men are already moving, shoving panicked punters back from the doors, securing the exits. The music has died, replaced by screams and the shattering of a few more glasses as people scramble for cover. But my focus is singular. Her. Summer.

The scent of her, some sweet, expensive floral shit, still clings to my clothes.

The memory of her body grinding against mine is still a brand on my cock.

That move, the way she rolled and was on her feet in those heels with her tits on display, disappearing into the chaos like a ghost…

that wasn’t the reaction of a normal stripper nor some posh girl looking for a thrill. That was instinct. That was training.

“Find her,” I snarl, my voice a low rumble that cuts through the noise. “Now.”

Landon nods, already speaking into his comms. “Eyes on a blonde, white bikini bottoms, topless. Name’s Summer. Find her. Do not let her leave the building.”

I stride through the mayhem, my presence alone parting the sea of terrified bodies.

My rage is a cold, sharp thing. Someone brought their war to my club.

They put their sight on what was about to be mine.

They made two mistakes. The first was targeting her on my territory.

The second was targeting while she was sliding over my cock.

I scan the thrashing crowd. She can’t have gone far.

And when I find her, she’ll have a lot of fucking questions to answer.

The first one being, who the fuck is she really? She has a name, a real one, and I’m going to find it.