Page 46 of Rawest Venom

The man looks at the plate and nods.

“Then why don’t you eat? Go ahead. Eat.” Cal’s face settles into the crook of my neck as he wraps his ripped forearms around my waist as if we’re watching a fireworks show. Holding me steady, his breaths huff against my neck with mocking laughs.

Dazed, clearly confused, Larry leans forward and sticks his open mouth on the mushrooms, inhaling them with a rapid gnawing action. Barely chewing, he swallows several and scarfs the rest down his gullet, but before he can sit back with satisfaction, his entire body begins to quiver. Drool runs freely from his previously dried mouth as he stiffens like a board, every muscle locking into place in a seizure-like motion. As if watching immediate rigor mortis set in, his large body becomes a lead pipe, straining against the ropes, horrible rattling gasps coming from his neck as he tries to grab onto any air he can find to survive.

Before I can look away, I find my body slumpingdown into Cal’s arms, which firmly catch me, then gather me up until he holds me bridal style. “Shh, I’ve got you. Just go to sleep.”

“Poison…” I feel it. There wasn’t just wine in that glass. Cal is a master of poisons…and I’ve just become a victim snared in his trap. This is it for me. And I knew it was coming. He knows about me now and this is the end. Clutching my chest, I grasp at my heart, but wherever I touch is shattered. There’s nothing left. It’s too late for us.

Will I be next on the wall?

“Wake up, puppet.”

My eyes feel weighted. Pain, it’s everywhere from my body being stretched out and stiffened. Moving is a chore, but I manage to shift myself despite my arms being held in suspension out to my sides by something around my wrists.

“Wake up, puppet. Open your eyes.”

Attempting to focus, my lids lift and he’s there. Cal stands in front of me, bending at the waist, peering into my face with some curiosity, but his taut arms are crossed against his broad chest. He’s shirtless, exposing every muscle I only dreamed he had, sensing their firmness from the feel of his form under his clothing. He’s absolutely ripped. Black jeans sit low on his hips, showing off his full-scale abdominal ladder of muscles. His body is lean, like he does work outside for a living.Or cuts up bodies in his spare time and buries the pieces in some unknown location.

Most likely the latter.

Tugging my arms downward, I meet resistance, and as I lift my head to see what’s holding them, my heart stops for a moment. Nailed to the ceiling are two wooden cross bars from which several thick wires dangle and hold my arms like I’m a marionette. The ends of each wire contain a cuff through which my arms are threaded, keeping me suspended like a dummy. I’m crowded, a sardine in a can, and when my eyes clear, a hoarse shriek leaves my throat rawer than it was before.

Girls are in here. No, not girls…Dolls. Lifesize puppets of all different shapes and sizes slouch everywhere, adorned with different colored dresses. The wall on my side of the white room is filled with them, each sitting with their heads lolling every which way. Even a pile underneath me makes a soft cushion and my legs are splayed out in front of me, still too numb to move despite my efforts. Large, glassy plastic eyeballs blink slowly as the dolls move with every flinch I make. Some of their mouths open from unhinged jaws, soundless speech leaving their gaping holes.

My pulse races with dread, air not seeping into my lungs. This is worse than any horror movie I’ve seen, the fear causing me to feel like I have lost my mind.

“Now, now. Puppets don’t talk on their own. None of that screaming.” Cal stands, a small smile creeping over his lips as he admires the latest addition to his collection.

If I can just tell him the truth. Will he believe me? IfI had any moisture in my eyes left to cry, I would. Not that it would help. I’ve been in these situations before.Trainedfor them. But this is different because it’s Cal.

Pleading as much as I can muster, I say, “Cal, please. I want to tell you something?—”

“Puppets don’t talk. You’ll listen, and when I ask, you’ll give me the answers I want.” As if gathering himself, he stands still, his arms dropping to his sides. “And right now, I want to know who sent you to kill me.” Within a second, he’s back in my face, which I have to turn away from given his closeness or our noses would bump. His breath still smells of our wine, so it can’t have been too long since I’ve been here. A blank expression presses into me as his normal smooth voice is gone, replaced by some evil tone, almost as terrifying as his modulator. “Who do you work for?”

Attempting to swallow my dry tongue, I gather enough saliva to squeak out, “That’s what I wanted to tell you tonight.”

“Speak. Who do you work for?” His tone is harsher than I’ve ever heard. The times he’s stabbed me with a word dart don’t compare to the venom he spits out now.

“Donovan.” My mouth hurts like I’ve got popcorn shells stuck in the back of my throat.

His green eyes hold my gaze for a long moment before one lid lowers. “I don’t believe you,” he says flatly.

“Please. Can—can I have some water? I’ll tell you everything.”

With swift movements, he’s spinning away from me to the back of the room, which I now make out to be abedroom with a queen-size white iron bed frame. The comforter covering it is extremely frilly and girly. At least there are no dolls on it. On one ornate gold-rimmed nightstand sits a clear carafe and a glass, which he fills with water. It’s windowless down here. Am I still in his cellar? Some weird pink and blue wallpaper coats the finished walls, but it must be the basement, maybe in a smaller room that’s had some work done.

If my drug wears off, I can get out of these binds easily. I’m not going anywhere, though. As soon as I leave, I know I’ve failed my mission, and it’s over for me. Death by Dot or Dash. Here with Cal is probably the safest place I can be.

Shaking my head slightly, I realize the atrocity of that statement.

“Here. Open your mouth.” Cal holds a glass to my lips, and I take small sips, the liquid completely refreshing me and causing the pounding within my skull to deaden. He watches me swallow every bit. “Who do you work for?”

Clearing my throat, I tell him, “I work for Donovan. I have since…well, since I was young. I’ve been groomed to seduce you and gather your trade secrets so he can take over the industry. He needs your goods.”

He places the empty glass back on the table, shuffling back to me and rubbing a hand down his face. Almost to himself, he mutters, “I don’t believe you.”

I sigh. “Ace is broke. You know this. He’s wanted to take over your supplies since he lost everything gambling.”

---