Page 92 of Venomous Kiss

“But we are,” I insist, grinning at her.

She gives me an unimpressed look, steps out of the shower, reaches back in, and turns the water off, leaving me standing here.

“We are not. I would remember marrying you.” Applying some sort of cream on her face, she stares at me through the mirror.

“You don’t need to remember, but I do have a ring for you.”

“I would remember. Care to tell me the truth this time?”

I step out and grab the towel she gave me last time as I come up behind her. “Can I touch you now?”

She turns so her body is directly in front of mine, then says, “No,” and saunters into the bedroom.

I huff out a breath.

Fuck.

I need her.

Her boyfriend needs her.

Her husband needs her.

When I leave the bathroom, I find her climbing into bed, wearing an old T-shirt.

“You can sleep on the couch,” she says.

“But I want to sleep in the same bed with my wife.”

“And I wanted to never be involved in the Hunt.”

“Why?” I ask. “You like blood.”

“Not my own.” She rolls her eyes before she lies down.

“Would you like me to create your own Hunt?”

Sitting back up at my words, she asks, “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, do you want to hunt?”

“Hunt?” She cocks her head.

“Yes, I can do that for you. I know that forest like the back of my hand. Do you want a Hunt as a wedding gift?”

Her eyes go wide, and she starts to nod but stops. “We aren’t married,” she insists once again. “But I will accept the Hunt on one condition?—”

“What? Name it?”

“You tell me why you think we’re married.”

I smile as I walk to the couch and call over my shoulder, “I’ll tell you tomorrow when you are rested enough to deal with the outrage.”

“How do you know there will be outrage?” she says through gritted teeth, and I just chuckle before I climb onto her two-seater couch, where my feet hang off the end.

And I pass out.

THIRTY-FOUR