Page 76 of The Venom We Bleed

I can't stop the way my gaze drops over his wide chest, down to the grooves of his abdomen and then the juncture of his hips where two diagonal lines disappear beneath the waistband of the plaid, cotton pajama bottoms he's wearing. Standing in the now open doorway with a bottle of water in one hand and what looks to be his old clothes in the other, he casually tosses the shirt and jeans into the nearby plastic white hamper and shuts the door behind him.

Stop fucking looking, Jules.

Nolan strides to the bed, those abs getting closer and closer, shifting with each step as he passes me, and then he picks up the duffle off the bed and drops it to the floor. I release my legs and let my feet touch the floor again. He sets the bottle of water on top of the chipped TV tray table that acts as a nightstand andturns on the lamp stationed there. No wonder all of the girls at school want to fuck the Scorpion Kings.

Even as numb as I am, when Nolan turns to reach for the light switch on the wall, I nearly fall off the bed. Scars. A fuck load of them. They line the length of his spine, almost like … whip marks. Some are wide and some are slender, but there’s no doubt that they’re old. Beneath them, the muscles of his back flex and shift as he walks. He doesn’t even seem to notice that I’m staring and I quickly glance away. As much as I want to, I shouldn’t ask about them. He flips off the main light, casting the rest of the room in the light glow of the lamp.

"Shoes off," he tells me, turning back around and pointing to my feet, "if you're sleeping on the bed."

I glance over to the tucked-in sheets because I really need to look somewhere other than the soda cans he's smuggling under his fucking stomach muscles. With him facing me again, it’s hard to focus anywhere else. There's no way he's real. I thought the Adonis belt was a fantasy that desperately horny people made up. It's just not physiologically possible—is it?

"You're letting me take the bed?" I ask because that doesn't seem like him at all.

Nolan snorts and then folds down the sheets and blankets, straightening the top of the bed as he does. Reaching into the pocket of his pajama bottoms, he withdraws a cell phone and hooks it to a black charger on the TV tray table.

"Letting you take the bed?" He looks back at me and gestures for me to hurry up and get in.

Left with little else to do, I slowly get to my feet and then look down. I'm still wearing my converse. Stepping on the back of one shoe, I toe it off and then do the same to the other, leaving them next to the bench press before I move towards the bed and then bend down, crawling onto the surprisingly clean sheets. His room is a little cluttered, but it's not dirty. Bran hadbeen a fucking slob, too used to having a maid clean his room and make his bed every day to concern himself with even the simplest of tasks.

Once I'm far back onto the bed and against the wall, Nolan slips onto the mattress. I slap a hand out onto the sheets and sit up. "Wait, what the hell are you doing?"

A scowl overtakes his handsome face. "It's a fucking double," he snaps. "Unless you want to sleep on the floor, you'll deal."

"I am not sleeping withyou." No way in fucking hell.

Nolan points to the floor. "Then you’re welcome to the floor, Princess, because I’m not giving up my fucking bed."

My hand curls into a fist. "You're such a dick," I hiss.

Sinking down to the mattress, he punches the pillow behind his head and stretches out. I glance down when the sheets shift. His feet damn near hang off the bed. "Make up your mind," he says. "Three ... two ... one..." Reaching over, the last light goes out, plunging the room into near-total darkness.

31

JULIET

Fuck.My whole body goes rigid. My breath comes in short staccato bursts. I didn’t realize it until now, but he pulled the curtain over the window shut and now it’s blocking out the moonlight. The thin yellow glow under the gap beneath the door to the hallway isn't enough to tell a man from an asshole. Wait. Both are the same, right?

I try to force myself to laugh at the silly thought, but it locks into my throat and refuses to budge. My heart gallops like a horse on steroids in my chest. A shadow dances in front of me. I scramble backward only to slam into the wall. My head bangs against it, but the pain is a distant thing that blossoms in the back of my skull. I’m too concerned with the darkness surrounding me and the monsters it hides. I can’t do this. I need the light. I need to know who’s here with me and I can’t know if I can’t see.

"Turn it back on,” I croak out. "Turn the light back—turn it ... turn it back..." Oh, fuck me. I can't breathe. More shadows creep out of the corners of the room, growing larger and larger, taking shape. I'm surrounded by them. "Turn ... turn it..." My ability to speak abandons me completely. I blink rapidly, staring at the shadows that become men as if I can will them away.

It's not real. They're not there. I'm not...

My nightmare creeps into reality. An old ghost that has haunted me for years. A familiar, handsome face smiling at me.Pretty girl … pretty, pretty girl. A shudder of revulsion works through my body and my throat turns to fire as acid rises from the pit in my stomach. He grins down at me with razor-sharp teeth and wide, hungry eyes, forcing me to acknowledge his existence.

A scream rockets out of my throat as a hand touches my shoulder. Without thought, I slam my fist into the very real man that's next to me. My knuckles connect with a jaw that feels like granite. Pain explodes in my knuckles, but I’m too out of it to care.

"Fuck!" Nolan's curse penetrates my head, but the hand—his, I recognize—doesn't go away. It only grips me harder as he begins to talk. "Jules, you're fine. You're okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

I gasp for breath, my hands shaking as I reach up and grasp at him. Skin, hot and smooth under my palms. "Turn on the light."Is that my voice? Is that pathetic, scared trembling voice mine?“Please.Fuck.I need the light.”

"Shhh." Nolan reaches around and cups the back of my skull, pulling me away from the wall until my cheek is against his shoulder. "Shhh." He hushes me, rocking back and forth in slow, soothing motions.

“Turn on the light,” I repeat even as I lean into him, holding on as a broken piece inside me wiggles free and stabs at my insides.

"I'm not going to do that.” Despite his words, his voice is gentle—more so than I ever expected from him. "I can't."

“Why?” My nails dig into him. Is this how he wants to torment me? Is he truly this cruel?

---