Page 30 of Crowned In Venom

I do not move.

I do not let my revulsion show.

But I feel it.

Crawling beneath my skin. Cold. Clawing. Unnatural.

Because this—this is not love.

This is possession.

She pulls back, her gaze unreadable.

"I wonder," she muses, her tone too idle, too careless. "What your father would think of you now?"

The words hit harder than any strike.

I keep my face impassive. I do not react.

"You never speak of him," I say. "I assumed he was unworthy of your time."

She smiles.

A blade disguised as a curve of lips.

"Perhaps," she murmurs. "Or perhaps some things are better left... buried."

I hold her gaze. Waiting.

Daring her to say more.

But she doesn’t.

She only watches me, waiting to see if I will press, if I will ask the questions she does not want answered.

I do not.

Not yet.

Because I know how she works.

And I know this moment is important.

She is watching for cracks.

Waiting to see if I will break.

I won’t.

Not here.

Not in front of her.

She exhales, reaching for her goblet once more. Dismissal.

"You will not fail me, will you, my son?"

It is not a question.

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