Page 13 of Crowned In Venom

I do not deny it.

I do not look away.

Varkos exhales, a quiet laugh beneath his breath. “Clever thing.”

His thumb drags along my lower lip, a ghost of a touch, a silent promise.

I let him believe I am yielding.

Because every touch, every whispered word is a move in my game.

He does not touch me the way I expect.

He steps back instead, watching me as if waiting for me to falter, to flinch.

I do neither.

Instead, I follow.

A shift of power. Subtle. Precise.

I step forward, closing the space he put between us. My fingers lift, grazing over the intricate silver embroidery on his robe, a whisper of touch.

I feel him tense beneath it.

Interesting.

“You command an entire clan, an empire of fighting clubs and pleasure dens,” I say softly, my fingers trailing along the fabric, not quite touching the warmth of his skin beneath. “Yet you hesitate.”

His hand catches my wrist. Not harsh. Not rough. But unyielding.

“Do not mistake patience for hesitation, little fox,” he murmurs, his voice dark silk against my skin.

I tilt my head, considering him. “And do not mistake defiance for foolishness.”

A beat of silence.

Then, he laughs.

Dark. Low. Sinful.

His fingers release my wrist, his touch dragging away like the edge of a blade pulling back before it cuts.

“Very well,” he murmurs. “We will play your game.”

He steps back, leaving me standing bare before him. Unclaimed. Untouched.

A different kind of power.

A different kind of control.

His amethyst eyes burn with something unspoken.

But he does not touch me again.

Not tonight.

Tonight, he lets me think I have won.

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