Page 48 of Crowned In Venom

A beat.

Then, he moves.

Sudden, fast—his body pushing against mine, my back hitting the cold stone wall.

A gasp catches in my throat, but I do not fight.

I do not flinch.

Because I knew this would happen.

I wanted it to.

He glares down at me, his breath warm, too close.

"You should be afraid of me, Anya."

I exhale, slow.

Then—a whisper.

"Make me."

His fingers graze my throat, his body caging mine in, and for the first time tonight, I see it?—

The storm breaking.

Control fracturing.

And I know?—

We’re over the battle of words.

It will be something else entirely.

Something dangerous.

Something I am ready for.

16

VARKOS

Her pulse hammers a frantic tattoo against my fingertips. I can feel the wild rhythm of it, a trapped bird beating against her ribs. I press her harder against the rough stone wall, the cold a stark contrast to the burning heat that’s already consuming me. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t plead. Her dark eyes, pools of molten defiance, lock on mine.

“Make me,” she whispers, the sound a silken thread laced with steel. A challenge. A goddamn dare.

And I’ve never been one to refuse a dare, especially not from her.

My fingers tighten around her throat, not enough to crush, just enough to remind her who holds the power. Her lips part, a gasp escaping, and the flicker in her eyes… is it fear? Or something darker, something that mirrors the hunger clawing at my gut?

“A dangerous game, Anya,” I growl, the words a rumble in my chest, barely leashed.

She tilts her head back, her dark hair a cascade of ink against the grey stone. “And you’re losing, Varkos.”

Her words are a blade twisting into me, and the worst part is, she’s right. I hate her for seeing through me, for stripping away the carefully constructed mask I wear.

I lean in, my lips brushing the delicate shell of her ear, my breath hot against her skin. “You think you can manipulate me?”

---