Page 20 of The Vipers and Their Venom

I catch him exchanging a look with Zane, and then Zane lifts his right hand to his mouth and makes a couple of hand signals.

Oh, shit. Is the big guy deaf? He seems to have heard me, but maybe he’s been reading my lips. What’s he saying? I’m not an expert, but it doesn’t look like any kind of sign language I’ve come across before.

Now I feel like the asshole. Is his strange behavior down to him being deaf? Does the twin understand it? I turn to him, and he makes a sign back. Yep, they are definitely having a conversation, and I don’t think it is American Sign Language. Is it something else, or something they made up?

I keep my gaze locked on Saint, hoping for an explanation. Luckily, Saint understands what I need.

“Zane isn’t deaf. He just can’t speak.”

I realize it must have something to do with his scars.

11

ZANE

Most of the time, I fucking hate that I’d don’t have a voice anymore, but then there’s moments like this, where the new girl is completely bewildered and floundering out of her depth, where I actually enjoy it.

“You met Vani before,” Saint says, “didn’t you, Zane? You saw her arrive.”

I lift my chin and study her, as though I’m checking it’s the same girl, and then nod. She fixes me with those deep brown eyes, and my heart does something strange. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear it actually swells in my chest.

Instantly, I push the emotion away. I donotneed to feel that. Girls are for fucking playing with—that is all—and this one seems ripe for it. It’s clear Saint already has his attention on her, and I bet Lex will be exactly the same. I almost feel sorry for the girl. Almost.

“Zane,” she says. “That’s your name?”

I press my lips together and nod.

She sticks her hand out toward me. “Vani.”

I can’t help myself. I’m curious to touch her. I slide my hand against hers. My palm must be twice the size, and my fingers engulf her tiny digits. Her skin is warm and soft. My gaze travelsfrom where our hands are joined and runs up the length of her arm. The sleeve design is monochromatic and mostly floral, but between the roses and lotus flowers are the hollow eyes of skulls. It’s beautiful work and must have cost a small fortune. Plus, she must have sat for hours, and it would have hurt like a bitch. For someone so young, it shows she has some balls.

It also shows how much she is not of this world. None of the women here would be allowed such ink, and never while living under the family roof. What else did Biker Daddy allow her to do? Does she drink? Has she had rough sex with another biker? I can’t imagine her dad would have stood for that.

She really is a delicious little morsel. It’s hard to keep my focus on her arm. Her tits are huge, and they rise and fall with every breath she takes. I wonder how responsive her nipples are. I bet they’re big as well and will fill my mouth when I suck them. She has a fat ass that will jiggle like a fucking earthquake when it’s slapped, and her thighs fill her jeans. Combine the bountiful body with the long, dark curls, the big, brown eyes, and the full lips, and she’s practically begging us to corrupt her.

Keeping hold of her fingers, I use my free hand to trace some of the images on her arm. Her skin dots with goosebumps, the fine hairs rising in response to my touch.

Interesting.

“You like my ink?” she asks.

I nod.

It’s her turn to study me.

“I see you have plenty of your own,” she says, but her line of sight goes directly to my scar. She flinches, and the muscles around her mouth twitch.

I drop her hand.

What does she think of me right now? Does she feel sorry for me? Is she disgusted? Will she go away and laugh at the big man who doesn’t even have a voice? Whatever I’d felt only a momentago evaporates. I don’t need her pity, or anyone else’s, for that matter. Yes, I’m damaged, and, as each surgery I have to fix my vocal cords fails, it looks like I’m beyond repair.

I sign to Saint.She thinks I’m a freak.

He chuckles and says, “Youarea freak.”

Vani must have realized I’d spotted her reaction when she’d fixated on my scar. Her cheeks flush, and a mottled blush appears across her neck and chest.

“No, no,” she blurts. “I don’t think that at all.”

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