Page 24 of The Vipers and Their Venom

She’s pretty, with long, poker-straight, brown hair, and she isn’t too much taller than me.

“Yeah, I am.” I wonder if they saw me trying the door handle. “I’m Ivani.”

“Ivani,” her friend chirrups. “That’s so pretty. Where’s it from?”

I shrug. “I don’t really know. I think my Mom just liked it.”

“My mom named me after a television character she used to like,” the brunette says. “I’m Angelica.”

I stare at her, trying to think of what character that might be.

She grimaces and adds, “FromRugrats.”

“Angelica Pickles?” one of the other girls squeals. “Why the hell would your mom name you after her? Wasn’t she a bit of a bully?”

“Apparently, it was because Angelica knew exactly what she wanted, and she always got shit done.”

“Your mom is a blast,” the girl says. “I love her!”

I experience a pang of longing at their easy camaraderie. I always feel as though I don’t know what to say, or that I’m dressed wrong, or I make eye contact too much or not enough.

She turns her attention to me. “I’m Jarena. Not named after a cartoon character.”

“And I’m Faith,” the third girl adds. She has corkscrew black curls in an afro, and dark brown eyes. “I hope you’ll be happy here.”

“You know there’s a student bar,” Angelica says. “If you see us in there, hanging out, feel free to come and join us. I know how hard it can be when you first arrive and don’t know anyone.”

Warmth flows through me at the invitation. “Thanks. I will.”

Faith nods at the office door. “Dean Rossi is teaching right now. He’ll be back soon, though, if you’re trying to catch him.”

I flap a hand at the door, trying to hide my discomfort. “Oh, it’s nothing important. It can wait.”

Angelica flashes me a smile. “Sure thing. Well, we’ll see you around, Ivani.”

I watch them go, and then head in the opposite direction. I’m going to have to come back when there aren’t so many people around.

13

LEX

It’s dark outside, the moon high in the sky, and the three of us are in the living room of the mansion.

Saint is lying on the couch on his back, tossing a small but wickedly sharp flick knife up into the air. The metal glints in the light from the small chandelier overhead as it spins, and he catches it again skillfully before it has the chance to stab him in the chest.

Zane is bent over one of his many notepads, scribbling something in it. He’s concentrating, hard, a couple of lines forming between his brows and his nostrils flaring. I don’t know what he’s writing—it’s not for our eyes. He’ll show us if he wants to, and neither of us would be stupid enough to try to read it without Zane’s consent.

The mansion was derelict when we first found it, but over the past couple of years we’ve worked hard to restore it. It’s not suitable for full-time living—not yet, anyway—but it’s definitely comfortable enough to hang out in. The walls even have wood paneling now, thanks to Zane’s skills, and he’s made half the furniture, too. The coffee table he has his feet rested upon was made by his own hands.

The other two seem chill, but I’ve got an itch inside me that needs scratching. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that the itch has been caused by the short, feisty girl I met today. For some reason, I can’t seem to get her out of my head. It’s those curves, combined with the tattoos, and the attitude. It’s also that I know she grew up in an MC, which should make her hard as hell, but deep down, I think there’s a good girl underneath the surface. The way she answered all the questions in class wasn’t because she was trying to show off; it was because she was trying to please.

I love a girl who wants to please. They’re always so fucking responsive.

“So,” I say, trying to sound casual, “I know her dad’s an ass, but what do we all make of the new girl?”

Saint’s head snaps up. “She doesn’t come from our class of family—you can tell just by looking at her, but maybe that makes her more interesting.”

“You know she’s got the dean putting her into the men’s classes?” I say. “She’s some kind of fucking math whizz.”

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