Page 42 of Venom (St. Sebastian’s at Cravenmoor Academy #1)

Viper

V enetia and I stare at the lily on her pillow. The second one so far.

“This is getting annoying,” she spits out.

“Annoying isn’t the fucking word for it,” I snarl, seeing her black lace knickers lying next to them. “This is fucking personal now.”

She glares at me. “Like it wasn’t before?”

I snort. “Sorry,” I say. “But placing your underwear next to it is a taunt too far.”

“At least they didn’t steal them,” she says with a brash smile.

“Don’t,” I say, clenching my fist. “Just don’t.”

“Get rid of it.”

I bag the flower and the knickers, my movements tight with a rage that threatens to snap my fucking control.

This isn’t a threat. It’s a violation. They went through her things.

Touched what’s hers. Touched what’s mine.

The thought of some unknown cunt’s hands on her lace underwear makes my vision go red at the edges.

I turn back to her. She’s standing by the window, her arms crossed, a gesture that I now know means she’s feeling the strain but refusing to show it. “They’re getting bolder,” she says, her voice a little too steady.

“They’re getting dead,” I correct her, my voice a low, gravelly promise. I stalk towards her, closing the space until she’s caged between me and the window. My hands come up to cup her face, my thumbs stroking her cheeks.

“We’re getting close.”

“Then we need to make it clear now, today, that you are after something else. That the trafficking ring is over for you.”

“We need Blake’s sharks.”

I nod in agreement and pull out my phone. I call him on speaker, and he answers on the first ring. “We need to move.”

“Another lily?”

“And her underwear.”

A low growl comes down the phone that calls to me. “I’m already attacking. Give it two hours and I’ll make some very powerful people very unhappy.”

“You’re amazing,” Venetia says, and he hangs up.

“Two hours,” I mutter, staring at my phone. “What the hell is he going to do in two hours?”

“Something spectacular,” Venetia replies, her voice laced with admiration. “Blake doesn’t make empty promises.”

I turn from her to stare at Lucy’s tank and freeze. “Do not move.”

“What?” she says, turning to look over at the desk.

“Do not fucking move. Do not even breathe.”

“Why?” she asks through clamped lips, but her tone tells me she knows already.

“They opened the hatch.”

“So, a killer snake is in the room somewhere?” she squeaks, but still through clamped lips, which makes it sound funny if this weren’t so deadly serious.

I turn slowly. Lucy knows me, I have no doubt she recognises me, but that means fuck all to a black mamba if they feel threatened in any way, shape or form.

I scan the room, my muscles coiled tight. Lucy is somewhere in this space, a lethal shadow moving with silent, deadly accuracy. My eyes methodically track over every surface, every shadow.

“Where is she?” Venetia whispers, still frozen by the window.

“Stop. Talking.”

A whisper of movement catches my eye. A sinuous ripple of glossy black scales slides under the bed. Lucy’s seven-foot length disappears into a confined darkness.

“Under the bed,” I murmur. “Stay where you are.”

I slowly lower myself into a crouch. Lucy knows me, but she’s agitated, displaced from her safe space by someone who had no fucking clue what they were doing. The idiot who released her just signed their death warrant, assuming they didn’t already get tagged by seven feet of pissed-off mamba.

“Viper,” Venetia breathes, “what’s the plan here?”

“I’m going to coax her out,” I reply, keeping my voice low and steady. “Stay fucking still. I mean it, wildcat. If she even senses you breathing, she will panic.”

“ She will panic?” Venetia squeaks again and then clamps her hand over her mouth when I shoot her a venomous glare.

I move slowly, deliberately, my body as fluid and calm as the predator I’m trying to lure.

A soft hiss comes from beneath the bed, and I see the flicker of her tail. She’s agitated but not aggressive. Yet. I need to get her back in her enclosure before that changes.

I lower myself further, lying flat on my stomach, bringing my face to her level. I can make out Lucy’s sleek form now, coiled defensively in the corner where the bed meets the wall.

“Hey, beautiful,” I whisper. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

Her tongue flickers out, tasting the air, tasting for fear.

I extend my hand, palm down, moving with glacial slowness. One wrong move and those fangs will deliver enough neurotoxin to kill me and then Venetia.

Lucy’s head rises slightly, her scales catching the dim light.

She’s magnificent. Seven feet of pure, lethal perfection.

Her obsidian eyes lock with mine, two predators recognising each other.

I’ve raised her since she was barely a foot long, feeding her, caring for her, understanding her moods and movements better than most people understand their family members.

But right now, she’s scared. Displaced. Vulnerable.

Deadly.

“Come on, sweetheart,” I murmur, my voice a low, hypnotic rumble that I know she recognises. “Let’s get you home.”

Lucy’s head weaves slightly, her tongue flicking out more rapidly now. She’s deciding. Calculating. A mamba’s strike speed is legendary, faster than I could ever hope to react. But I’m not afraid. Fear is what gets you killed around predators like her.

“That’s it,” I breathe as she inches forward slightly, drawn to the familiar scent of my skin. “Nice and easy.”

Her scales make the softest whisper against the carpet as she uncoils, stretching her magnificent length out. Every muscle in my body is locked in place, my breathing shallow and controlled. One sudden movement, and this goes very badly for everyone.

Lucy slides closer, her head now just inches from my outstretched hand. I need to grab her behind her head faster than she can react. It’s a battle of speed, and I’m not sure I will come out the winner. In fact, it’s very unlikely.

“The anti-venom is in the Range Rover,” I murmur to Venetia. “If this goes sideways, get out the window as fast as you can.”

“Vi-per,” she mutters, fear lacing her tone.

I inch my hand closer, my movements fluid and deliberate. Lucy’s head sways slightly, a hypnotic dance that precedes either acceptance or attack. Her tongue flicks rapidly.

“Come on, baby girl,” I murmur, my voice barely above a breath. “It’s just me.”

In one fluid motion that happens faster than a blink, Lucy strikes. I feel the rush of air as her head whips forward, and I freeze, waiting for the bite. Moving and showing fear will be lethal. Her fangs don’t sink into my flesh. Instead, she pulls back, a warning strike.

“I know you’re scared,” I whisper, inching forward again. “But I’m going to keep you safe.”

Lucy’s head weaves closer again. This time, when she approaches, I make my move.

With a speed born from years of handling deadly creatures, I grasp her just behind her head, securing her in a grip that’s firm enough to control but gentle enough not to hurt.

Her body thrashes, seven feet of powerful muscle whipping in protest. I hold steady, keeping her head immobilised as her tail lashes against the floor.

“Got her,” I grunt, carefully getting to my feet. Lucy’s body writhes in my grip, but I maintain control, my movements slow and careful as I carry her towards her enclosure.

Venetia remains frozen by the window, her eyes wide, her body pressed so hard against the glass it’s a wonder she hasn’t fallen through it.

“Open the hatch wider,” I command, nodding towards the tank as venom seeps from Lucy’s fangs, ready to kill.

Venetia doesn’t move.

“Venetia. The hatch. Now.”

She swallows hard, then inches forward, her movements jerky with fear. Her hand trembles as she reaches for the sliding door on top of Lucy’s enclosure.

“Wider,” I instruct as Lucy continues to writhe in my grip.

With Lucy secured, I carefully lower her into the tank, making sure her full length is inside before rapidly removing my hand. Venetia slams the hatch shut.

Lucy hisses and strikes, hitting the glass as Venetia whimpers.

I exhale slowly.

“That was fucking terrifying,” Venetia whispers.

“It could’ve been worse.”

Venetia’s eyes lock on mine, and we both start laughing from sheer relief that neither of us, nor any of the other students, was bitten.

“So much for an active deterrent,” I mutter after a beat. “Someone just used my own fucking snake against me.”

“Oh, my fucking God!” Venetia snorts so hard, she stumbles backwards as her laughter turns hysterical. I blink and wait it out, let her release the tension caused by this unfortunate incident.