Page 35 of Crowned In Venom

I stand at the edge of the training hall, my hands resting against the smooth railing of the balcony that overlooks the fighting pit below. The air is thick with sweat and blood, the sound of fists cracking against flesh echoing through the chamber.

The fighters move like animals—graceful, violent, desperate.

And from across the room, Anya watches.

Not the fight.

Me.

She thinks I do not notice.

She is wrong.

"You’ve been staring for a long time," I say without turning.

A pause.

Then, soft footsteps behind me.

She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she moves closer, her presence a whisper of warmth just behind me. Close, but not too close.

Not reckless.

Calculated.

"I did not think you’d mind," she says, her voice smooth, amused. "You like being watched."

I smirk. "Do I?"

"Yes." A beat. Then—"Just as much as you like watching others."

I turn at that, slow and deliberate, bracing my hands against the railing as I face her.

She stands just within reach, her expression carefully composed, her emerald eyes reflecting the torchlight in flickers of green fire.

"Is that what you think?" I murmur.

Her lips curl. "I don’t think, my lord. I observe."

I chuckle, low and dark. "And what have you observed?"

She lifts her chin slightly, tilting her head. "That you don’t trust me."

I arch a brow. "Would you trust you?"

Her smile does not fade. "No."

That earns her a laugh—a real one, slow and edged with something sharp.

"At least you're honest," I murmur.

She steps closer, her movement fluid, effortless. She is playing a game, testing the edges of power.

She lifts a hand, slowly, her fingertips trailing lightly over the rail beside mine. Not touching—just close enough for the heat of her skin to linger.

"I could say the same of you," she says softly.

My amusement does not fade, but I do not miss the way she watches me—not with fear. Not with submission.

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