Page 28 of The Venom We Bleed

"—fucking problem?" I'm so intent on devouring every minuscule detail of her features, her scent, her body, that I almost miss the entire question she asks me.

I blink, working my thoughts backward. What had she been saying? Ah, yes, she'd asked me what my problem was. That's easy enough to answer—my main problem now is that she has no idea who she belongs to. I recall the recent conversation I’d had with Allen Donovan, and a dark cloud descends over me. Before Nolan had called me out here to run some errands forDarrio so that Gio could help his mom out, I’d been ass deep in pulling up all kinds of records about the Donovan family.

It was difficult not to get distracted by all things Juliet. She’s just so fucking pretty it’s hard not to give her all of my attention, even when she doesn’t want it. Not that she’ll ever find out just how much of my attention she has or for how long. I’ll remember. I’ll know that for thirteen years. For nearly 4,745 days, I’ve thought about her, watched her, wanted her. But nope, those little secrets of ours will have to stay hidden with me. I can’t have her running, after all.

I have to ease her into our relationship if Nolan is going to agree to take her with us. It’ll take time and effort, for sure, but I can do it. I’m nothing if not persistent and dedicated. I’ll close around her with such silent intention that she never even realizes she's been caged. I can do it now. There's no boyfriend, no parents, no more barriers in my way anymore. Yet, at the same time, I have a feeling I'm going to miss this part of our relationship. The distance and watching. The building tension between us that has my cock rock hard in my pants as I get close enough to smell her for the first time in forever.

"Hello?" Juliet snaps her fingers in front of my face when I've still yet to respond to her question. "Anyone home? Are you just going to block my path and be a dick or do you actually want something from me?"

I want you on your knees,my mind immediately responds.Mouth open, tits bared for my eyes, legs spread, wet pussy on display.

A groan works its way up my throat. I beat it back. "Maybe all I want is a kiss," I hear myself say before I can stop myself.

Her arms drop from her chest, the look of shock on her face so sudden that her features go slack for the briefest of moments. Then her brows lower and her lips curve into a scowl. Hands come up and slap at my chest. The heat of her palms where theypress against me burns through my shirt and all I can think isshe’s touching me.I want her to touch me some more.

"Back off, asshole," she grits out, unaware of my thoughts. "Just because I'm not on the other side of Silverwood anymore doesn't mean I'm suddenly a prostitute."

"I've never thought of you as a prostitute," I promise her, letting my body curve around hers, blocking her against the wall. Her hands on my chest are perfect. Her little nails dig in past the thin cotton of my shirt. I want it harder. I want her to score me with her body, make me bleed for her.

The tiny point of her nose tips upward as she bares the flat whites of her teeth at me. A groan threatens to break free from me. "Then why the hell would you think I'd ever kiss you?"

I tilt my head to the side. Her scent is all around me, invading my nostrils, driving me mad, making me forget where we are. "Because you want to know what it feels like," I croak out.

She laughs, but the sound is unamused. "I've kissed before," she says. "I don't need to wonder what it feels like."

I reach up and touch her jaw, letting my fingers skim along the underside of her face. I'm oh so close to the pulsing beat of her racing heart. I wonder how she'd react to me putting my hand around her throat, squeezing, giving her a sense of my strength. Of what I could do to her or better yet, for her. "You don't know what it feels like to kissme," I correct her.

One breath in. One breath out. She goes still and seconds tick by. Then her hand is punching into one of my shoulders, pushing me back. Disappointment is a sinking weight in my gut, but I let her go. The predator in me demands that I give chase as blue hair and eyes flash by me. My muscles tense and jump beneath my flesh and I clench my hands into fists, turning my head slightly as I watch Juliet Donovan sprint down the back hallway of The Dionysus Lounge.

She’s taller than I remember, taller than she appears in videos and pictures. I knew that. All of her documentation says she’s a solid five-foot-six-inches, but with her body so close to my own, she'd felt smaller. Breakable. I haven’t been near her—at least, notthisclose—in years.

My eyes bore into her back and the rounded curve of her ass encased in black slacks that are a bit too long for her legs as she hurries down the back hall and then disappears around the corner.

Her fall from grace has changed her. Juliet Donovan had been a beautiful ice queen. Soft, innocent, naive, and worst of all, untouchable. I never expected those barriers to come down so suddenly. Gone is the softness of her childhood, and though she might still be innocent in some ways, there’s no more naiveté left in the cold expressions I’ve seen her wear at school.

I didn’t think she could become more stunning if she tried, yet she has defied my expectations yet again. The Ice Queen fell into the gutter and having her so close to me once again is a torturous exercise in restraint.

Now that her pathetic excuse of a boyfriend is out of the way, the beast that has watched her for the last thirteen years, categorized everything about her from what brand of makeup she uses to what her favorite foods are is ravenous to get to her. She’s been abandoned by her family, by her boyfriend, and her friends. My upper lip curls back at the thought. They were all just vermin circling her anyway. She’s better off without them in her life. My only point of contention is that I was not the one who got rid of them for her.

I unclench my fists and smooth them over my dark jeans, wiping away the sweat as my heart rate kicks up. The end of my nose twitches as I think of all the ways I could hurt them. Knowing how much of a whore Avery Carpenter is, I’m sure the girl has nudes out there somewhere. All it would take is a fewminutes of my time to share them with the whole of Silverwood Prep. Brandon Pillard, however … I’ll have to think of something special for him. Something painful. He’d had the perfect woman and he fucked her over. There’s a special place in my personal hell for him and I intend to bring it right to his front door.

“Lex!” Nolan’s sharp bark drags me out of my head, disrupting my fantasy of all of the devious things I’d like to do with Juliet’s ex-boyfriend.

I jerk my head up and catch the last tendrils of Juliet’s shampoo scent in my lungs. A groan works its way out of my chest. Nolan frowns at me. His head tilts down and he glances up the hall as if expecting Juliet to still be there. When he sees she’s not, he flicks his gaze back to me and arches a brow.

“What?” I snap at him.

Nolan purses his lips. “Maybe you should ask one of Auntie’s girls out, Lex. You’re looking a little tight there, man.” With a scowl, I lift one of my hands and give him my middle finger. He snorts and shakes his head before gesturing for me. “Come on,” he says. “We’ve got work to do.”

At his words, I sigh and turn, ducking into Ma-Ri’s office before closing the door and flipping the lock on the off chance someone gets a bit too curious. Now that Juliet has fled, Ma-Ri moves to the painting hanging on her wall depicting an old Asian woman working a rather strange-looking contraption, spinning silk from the butt of a worm. It’s always struck me as a bit odd, but I don’t question Ma-Ri on her decor. Neither does Nolan.

She lifts the painting down, setting it to the side to reveal the safe beyond it, and with careful fingers, she twists the lock back and forth until the telltale sound of the door clicking open engages. Ma-Ri reaches inside and withdraws a stack of green hundreds, neatly wrapped with a paper flap around the middle. She shuts and relocks the safe, replacing the painting over itbefore heading to her desk and slipping a white envelope out. Nolan and I remain silent as she puts the stack into the envelope and seals it before handing it over.

“The fee, boys,” she says, lifting her cigarette holder once more and putting it to her lips and sucking deeply.

“Ma-Ri.” Nolan frowns at the envelope. “You know we have to count it.”

Ma-Ri waves her hand absently at the now-sealed envelope. “Right, right, habit. Open it and count.”

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