Page 33 of Venom (St. Sebastian’s at Cravenmoor Academy #1)

Venetia

M y body feels stiff when I turn over, and the sunlight hits my face. With a soft groan, I open my eyes and see Viper staring at me from his side of the bed.

“First thing you see.”

“Fuck off with that,” I growl. “And don’t you know how to close curtains?”

“I prefer to sleep with them open.”

“Do you even sleep?” I grumble as I haul my aching body out of bed.

“Not when I have to watch you,” he grunts, his gaze sweeping over me, cataloguing the bruises that are a dark, angry purple against my skin. “You’re a flight risk.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I snap, the words costing me as a sharp pain lances through my side.

I try to hide the wince, but he sees it.

Of course, he fucking sees it. His eyes narrow, all traces of their morning banter gone, replaced by that intense, proprietary focus that makes me feel both caged and cherished.

He gets out of bed, the sheet sliding off his ridiculously perfect, hard body.

He’s completely naked, completely unbothered, a walking masterpiece of ink and muscle.

Suddenly, I feel a pang of jealousy for any woman who has touched him, fucked him, come all over his cock.

He is mine in ways that go beyond mere possession. Last night proved that.

“What?” he asks, clearly feeling my intense gaze on him.

“Nothing,” I say, turning away.

“Ask your question,” he commands softly.

“It’s none of my business.”

“What isn’t?”

“How many women you’ve fucked.” It’s out of my mouth before I can stop it. My cheeks go warm when I hear his soft, dark chuckle.

“You want to know my body count? I’m touched.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” I say, my voice sharp to cover the hot flush creeping up my neck. “It was a fleeting thought. Forget I said anything.”

“Too late,” he says, his smirk widening. He stalks towards me, a slow, deliberate predator. He stops just in front of me. “You want to know my body count so you know how many ghosts you have to fuck out of me when I’m inside you.”

“Ah!” I gasp when he nails it so perfectly, I hate him for knowing me so well.

“It doesn’t matter how many came before. All that matters is who comes last.” His voice drops to a low, possessive growl, and the promise in it sends a shiver down my spine. “And that will be you, wildcat.”

My heart does a stupid, frantic flutter against my aching ribs.

I hate the effect he has on me, the way he can strip me bare with just a few words.

I need to take back control, to regain my footing.

I reach out, my fingers tracing the line of a serpent tattooed on his chest. His muscles tense under my touch.

“Big words for a man who hasn’t even fucked me yet,” I whisper, my tone a challenge.

His eyes darken, the navy depths turning to stormy black. “Patience,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to my mouth. “I’m enjoying the foreplay.”

He leans in, his lips brushing mine, a whisper of a promise before he pulls back, leaving me wanting more. The bastard. “What about you?”

“You didn’t answer, so I won’t either.”

He smiles. “More than ten?”

“Maybe.”

He snorts. “More than twenty?”

“Does it matter?”

“No. I can make you forget about all of them, including Warrick.”

“I don’t want to forget about him. He shows promise.”

He doesn’t answer, he just smiles and turns his back on me.

I slowly freshen up and get dressed in skin-tight, black leather pants and a cut-off black top that shows the bruises on my ribs off.

I’m not hiding and pretending. I want everyone to see what that cunt did to me and why he was put in the medical centre.

“Breakfast?” Viper asks hopefully as we get ready to leave the room.

“Fuck, yes.”

“Thank fuck. Anyone ever tell you, you eat like a bird?”

“My dad.”

“That makes sense. We have a lot in common.”

I snicker and let him take my hand as we head down the stairs, one at a time, as my ribs scream in protest.

The dining hall falls quiet when we walk in.

It’s almost comical how quickly heads turn, whispers erupt, and phones are whipped out to document our entrance.

I keep my chin high, my shoulders back, letting them all see the ugly marks on my throat, the bruises peeking from beneath my top.

Let them look. Let them see what happens when you cross a Corbyn-Hale.

I spot Rafferty at a table near the back. Blake sits beside him, immaculate in a tailored suit despite the ungodly hour, sipping coffee like he’s at a fucking board meeting instead of an academy breakfast.

“Jesus,” Rafferty mutters as we get closer, his eyes fixed on my bruises. “You look like shit.”

“You should see the other guy,” I respond dryly, sliding into the seat across from him.

Rafferty snorts. “Oh, I did and made sure he looked a thousand times worse than when you last saw him.”

“He’s a mess,” Blake says quietly, his eyes meeting mine over the rim of his coffee cup.

“He’s been moved to a private medical facility.

His jaw required wiring, three broken ribs, a punctured lung, and a knife wound through his hand.

” He says it like he’s reading a shopping list, but his eyes are cold, calculating. “Fascinating work.”

“It’ll do for now.”

Viper disappears and returns with two plates piled high. He sits and opens a yoghurt before handing it to me with a spoon.

“Want to feed me as well?” I grouse, snatching it from him.

“Do you want me to?”

Avoiding the heated look in his eye as his Daddy persona takes over, I look down at the mountain of eggs, bacon, and toast. “Are you trying to fatten me up for slaughter?”

“You need your strength,” he says.

I roll my eyes but pick up a fork. The first bite reminds me how hungry I actually am, and I dig in with surprising enthusiasm. Blake watches me with that small, satisfied smile that makes me want to simultaneously kiss him and slap him.

“So,” Rafferty says, leaning back. “What’s the plan? Headley’s been dealt with, but what about Ana?”

Blake gives that sly smile that I’ve come to enjoy. “She’s been dealt with.”

“What did you do?”

“Simply ensured she understands her new position in the hierarchy. Her family will wonder why they put up with her for so long once the National Crime Agency start digging.”

I press my lips together. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did.”

“Fuck, you are lethal. I love it.”

His smile turns sexier. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

“I find that hard to believe, but I’ll wait.”

I feel eyes on us from every corner of the dining hall. Some are curious, others afraid, and a few, a dangerous few, calculating. Trying to figure out if I’m stronger or weaker after last night’s events.

“They’re watching,” I murmur.

“Let them,” Rafferty grins, stretching like a lazy cat. “Better they know what happens when they fuck with us.”

Us. The word settles in my chest, foreign but not unwelcome. Four against the world.

“I have a lecture at ten,” I say, finishing my toast. “The Geopolitics of Illicit Trade.”

“My favourite class,” Blake comments. “Professor Hargreaves?”

I nod.

“Brilliant mind. Questionable ethics.” Blake sips his coffee. “His theories on trafficking routes could be useful for your personal project.”

The way he says it, delicate but direct, makes it clear he knows exactly what I’ve been up to lately before being shot at and sent here. I narrow my eyes at him. “And how exactly do you know about my personal project?”

“I make it my business to know everything about everyone who interests me,” he says simply. “Particularly those with similar goals.”

“Similar goals?” I arch an eyebrow.

“The dismantling of trafficking networks,” he clarifies. “Although our methods may differ.”

I study him, trying to see beneath the perfect, polished surface. “You’re full of surprises, Locke.”

His smile is enigmatic. “You have no idea.”

We finish up in relative silence, but it’s not uncomfortable.

“I’ll walk you to class,” Blake says when I shovel the last of my toast into my mouth.

“We all will,” Rafferty corrects, standing as well.

“I don’t need three bodyguards to walk across campus,” I protest.

“Indulge us,” Blake says smoothly, gathering his things. “After last night’s excitement, we’re feeling rather protective.”

I want to argue, but the throbbing in my ribs reminds me that even I have limits. “Fine,” I sigh. “But don’t hover like fucking gargoyles. It’s weird.”

The three of them exchange amused glances over my head. I hate that they’re all so bloody tall.

We walk across the quad, a strange procession that parts the crowd like we have the plague. I can feel the speculation in every gaze that follows us. The Corbyn-Hale heiress and her three knights. The rumours will be flying before I even reach my classroom.

Let them talk. Let them wonder. Every whisper only adds to the mystique, the power. After what happened to Headley, no one will be stupid enough to try something similar.

At least, that’s what I tell myself as we reach the imposing doors of the lecture hall and I wave goodbye to Blake and Rafferty.

Viper follows me inside, and I roll my eyes, finding a seat near the back where I can see the entire room. Dad’s training never quite leaves you.

The lecture is fascinating despite my aching body and the stares of my classmates.

Professor Hargreaves is brilliant, connecting global economics, politics, and the dark underbelly of trafficking with a clarity that makes my fingers itch to take notes.

This is exactly what I need to further my mission.

By the time the two-hour lecture ends, my notebook is full, and my mind is buzzing with new ideas. I pack up slowly, letting the room clear out before I stand, trying not to grimace at the stiffness in my muscles.

We walk back across campus, Viper’s long stride adjusting to match my slower pace without comment. The bruises make me feel like an old woman, each step a dull throb of pain.

“I need to go back to the room for a textbook,” I comment as I head that way.

He nods but doesn’t say anything. He clearly has nothing to say.

We reach our bedroom door, and he checks the corridor before I unlock it. Old habits.

We step inside, closing the door behind us. The room is quiet, save for the hissing of Lucy from her tank. She is majorly agitated.

“What’s up with her?” I ask Viper.

He frowns and crosses over to her. “I don’t know. I think she might want to get out.”

“Erm, no.”

“At some point, I will have to let her out. She’s a seven-foot snake.”

“You can’t let that thing loose in St. Seb’s! It will eat someone.”

“Bite someone, they don’t eat humans.”

“You got that anti-venom, right?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, crouching down and murmuring soothing words to the vicious, venomous black mamba.

Crossing to the bedside cabinet, I freeze.

In the centre of my pillow is a single black lily. “You decide to get romantic on my arse?” I ask Viper.

“What?” he asks, straightening up and turning towards me.

He stares at where I am and then moves quickly. “Don’t touch it.”

“Wasn’t you?” I ask carefully.

“No.” He picks it up and gives it a sniff. “Cyanide,” he growls and pulls it away from his nose.

Its petals gleam with an oily sheen in the sunlight.

We exchange a wary glance.

Someone got into our locked room. Someone left a death threat on my fucking pillow.

I back away slowly as Viper holds the lily at arm’s length. “This just blew past hazing into something way more sinister,” he mutters. “Another attempt on your life, wildcat.”

“Same person or different?” I ask warily.

“That’s what we need to find out.”