Page 51 of Crowned In Venom

I should tell her the truth.

That I am letting her too close.

That her presence is a distraction I cannot afford.

That I should have sent her away the moment I realized her fire would burn me.

But I don’t say any of those things.

Instead, I release her wrist, letting her fingers brush over my scars one last time before I pull away.

She studies me, waiting for something.

A sign. A word. A permission I will not give.

So I do what I always do.

I retreat.

I push myself up, reaching for the silk robe discarded at the edge of the bed.

"Running?" she muses, shifting onto her elbow, watching me with amusement that does not reach her eyes.

I smirk, slipping into the fabric, tying the belt a little too tightly.

"Only cowards run."

"And yet, you seem eager to put distance between us."

She is baiting me.

And it is working.

I turn slowly, stepping toward her, watching as her breath hitches, just slightly.

I trail my fingers along the curve of her jaw, tilting her chin just enough to make her look up at me.

"Distance is a game you should not wish to play, little fox," I murmur. "Because you will always be the one to lose."

She should shiver. She should shrink beneath me.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she leans in, just enough to make me wonder if she is the one setting the trap.

"Then stop playing," she whispers.

And for a moment—just a breath, just a sliver of time—I almost do.

I could take her again.

I could pull her beneath me, make her forget that there is a world outside these walls.

I could let her trace every scar, let her steal pieces of me I did not think I was willing to give.

But that would be a mistake.

Because this—this thing between us—is not just want.

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