Page 82 of Crowned In Venom

It is out of need.

And when my mouth crashes against hers, she does not pull away.

She meets me.

Fierce. Unrelenting.

Her fingers twist into my robes, dragging me closer, and I let her. I let her press her body against mine, let her sigh into my mouth, let her ruin me.

It is not a kiss of war.

Not a battle for power.

It is fire. It is surrender.

It is the thing I swore I would never allow.

And I do not stop it.

I deepen the kiss, dragging her closer, my hand sliding into her hair, tangling at the base of her skull, tilting her head back.

A low sound escapes her throat, a breathless gasp—not fear. Not pain.

Something else.

Something worse.

She is not resisting.

She is taking.

And so am I.

Her body presses into mine, soft and unafraid, her heat sinking into my bones.

She tastes like spiced wine and the lie she always says.

I want to devour it from her tongue.

I press her against the seat, against me, against every instinct screaming at me to stop.

Her hands are in my hair now, fisting, pulling, dragging.

I should hate her.

I should tear her apart.

Instead, I groan against her lips, taking more, needing more, sinking into something I do not understand.

Her body molds against mine, dangerous and yielding, her breath hot as she whispers my name.

Not my lord.

Not Varkos.

Just a breathless exhale.

A ruin.

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