Page 5 of The Bitterness of Venom

“I swear on all kittens’ lives, if you bop my nose again, I’ll have a murder charge.”

This only makes Elisha laugh harder. He wouldn’t be laughing if he knew about the knife strapped to my thigh as we speak. “So violent for such a small thing.”

I bare my teeth at him. “I haven’t even had my coffee yet. You better go play with someone else first thing this morning.” I push his arm off me, walking to my room to grab my purse so I can do just that—get coffee.

“Where are you going?” Jasper asks, eagerly getting off the couch.

I look him up and down, sizing him up. “I don’t have daddy issues, no need to act like one.”

Elisha laughs, and Jasper’s mouth falls open.

I salute the two, walking to the door.

I make my way down the stairs but as I turn around the building, my body his slammed up against the side of it. My hands claw at the much stronger one wrapped around my throat. “What the fuck are doing here?” The malice behind his eyes and words catches me off guard as I struggle to release myself of Desmond’s grip, but he’s so fucking strong.

His eyes glare into mine, a million flashbacks of our childhood flicking like a motion picture within them. I never thought I’d see him again, much less be this close in his proximity. I want to ask him how he is. Did he miss me? But the grip around my throat answers most of my questions for me.

Easing back, he grins, but it’s all wrong. Not the one he gave me when we were kids. “Look at you,” he says, eyes sweeping over my body in a way he has no business doing. “All grown up and lacking… everywhere.”

His words make my heart thump behind my rib cage in a terrifying rhythm. Humiliation and anger have my hands gripping into fists. And then I send one flying, watching with sweet satisfaction as his face pops back and his hold loosens. I take the advantage and run. I run until my lungs beg me to stop. Until I see the coffee shop. Until the initial shock wears off.

Desmond is not my Desmond anymore. No, that brooding boy has turned into an angry man. And it seems he has it out for me.

I glareat the red marks around my neck, fingertips blooming on the sides. I pull my makeup bag out. I hadn’t planned to wear any today, but I definitely have to now. The fucking prick. Thinking he can leave marks on me.

Just as I finish coating my lashes, a knock on my door sounds. “Come in.”

Jasper peeks in. “Hey, I wanted to invite you out with us tonight.”

“Pass.”

He looks at the ground. “Why don’t you like me?”

Sighing, I sit my mascara down. Turning to look at him. “I don’t like anyone.”

He tilts his head at this. “Who hurt you?” I roll my eyes. “Come on, Blaise. It’ll be fun. We’re going to the roller rink. It’s tradition here. What do you say?”

I look to his puppy dog eyes and cave. “Fine.” He smiles. “But if it’s lame, I’m leaving.”

“Okay, we’re going at seven,” he tells me, closing the door.

I turn and look at myself in the mirror. Glaring at the small hint of fingerprints I can’t seem to cover up. Of all the things he could have done, he did the one thing that triggered me. And he knows that. He fucking knows parts of my past, and yet…

I pull my long, pastel pink hair into a high, sleek ponytail, pulling two pieces out at the front to frame my face. I grab a black velvet choker, effectively hiding his marks. I smirk, going to my closet and pulling out my dark ripped jean shorts, then my black cropped Rob Zombie shirt that shows off my pierced navel. I pull out my fishnet stockings, hoisting them on before pulling my shorts over them. I slip my shirt on, grabbing my black belt from the hanger in the closet and fastening it through the loops. I pull on some socks—surprise, they’re black too. I slip my army boots on and grab my gold hoop earrings, pairing them with a bunch of rings on my fingers.

Giving myself a once-over in the mirror, I smile.

“You look hot,”Jasper whispers next to my ear as we walk down the street to the roller skating rink. From the outside, it looks as if a rave is going on inside. Flashing lights and loud music shaking the windows.

Jasper isn’t horrible. Men just give me the ick, so it takes me a moment to warm up to them. “I know,” I singsong.

Jasper grabs my hand, taking me inside and to the roller skate booth. I tell the unamused college kid what size I need and turn to take in the scene before me. Couples skate holding hands. Others skate in a pack, as if they have a routine to the song that is currently playing through the speakers. And then there are the rookies, falling on their assess and laughing.

“So, can you skate?” Jasper asks me, handing me my skates.

I shrug, taking a seat on a bench and unlacing my boots. “We’re about to find out.”

THREE

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