Page 9 of Crowned In Venom

Clever girl.

“You are obedient,” I murmur, dragging my knuckles down the length of her throat. Feeling the pulse there. Steady. Unafraid.

“I try to be,” she answers softly.

I chuckle. “Do you?”

She meets my gaze, her emerald eyes dark in the firelight. “Would you prefer me to say otherwise, my lord?”

She tests me, too.

Playing the part, but pushing, always pushing.

I move behind her, circling her like a wolf deciding where to bite. Her breath is slow, measured. Waiting. Calculating.

I trail a hand along her bare shoulder, my fingers brushing the delicate strap of her gown.

She still does not move.

“You do not flinch,” I murmur.

“Should I?”

Ah.

There it is.

The knife hidden beneath the silk.

I reach around her, my hand coming to rest lightly on her hip. Not forceful. Not yet.

Her breath hitches, just a fraction, but she does not pull away.

I lean in, my lips near her ear. “Every woman before you has flinched.”

Anya’s voice is barely above a whisper. “I am not like the women before me.”

No. She isn’t.

And that is why she is dangerous.

I pull back, letting her go.

She turns to face me, her expression carefully neutral. A mask, just as intricate as my own.

“You are clever in your submission,” I say, moving toward the table where a decanter of wine waits. I pour a glass, swirling the deep red liquid before taking a sip. “But cleverness can be a dangerous thing.”

She watches me but does not respond.

I gesture toward the goblet. “Drink.”

She does not hesitate, stepping forward and accepting the glass from my hand. Her fingers brush mine, just barely, but I feel it.

She lifts the goblet to her lips, tilting her head back slightly as she drinks. Her throat moves, exposed for just a moment.

Vulnerable.

But not powerless.

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