Page 38 of Sweet Touch of Venom

A ping in my heart causes me to shutter. This reminds me of myself in training, but my training wasn’t like this. It was brutal. It’s hard when your own father is training you.

As Ronan continues the tour, footsteps stampede down the hall from behind us. I turn my head to see a tall man with bleach blonde hair marching toward us, the brightest smile on his face.

I step my foot back one upping him, his joy is making me unsettled.

Ronan comes up beside me with his hand gestured in front of me, as if to tame me? “Bedford, what is it?”

The man bends over, heaving like he’s just finished sprinting a marathon. Which could be the case considering how large theplace is. I notice he doesn’t put up the ‘G’ hand sign like the other men did.

“I—” He swallows loudly, still catching his breath. “I just wanted to see the one and only Venom.” He finally lets out the last of his air from his chest before standing upright.

Ronan lowers his arm, but I sense the hesitation by how he steps in close to me. I resist the eye roll, pursing my lips. I stick my hand out.

“Now we can formally meet,” I say with respect, eyeing Ronan from the corner of my eye to show he doesn’t need to treat me as some wild animal.

“Anita.” I use my first name because it feels right, like a relief off my shoulders revealingme, even if it’s just a name. But it’s the name I was given when I was born. It holds the memories of my brother yelling my name when I touched one of his projects. Or my mother calling for me to clean up. Or my father–.

He clasps his clammy, warm hands in mine. He’s so nervous, it’s funny. “It’s so nice to meet you, Anita. That’s such a pretty name. I’ve been tracking your work for years now, and it’s just outstanding to see you in front of me.” He opens his arms out with red cheeks and real-life twinkles in his grey eyes. “I just want to hug you to see if you’re real. May I?”

“Bedford,” Ronan warns.

My spine stiffens, and I shift on my feet. “I would rather not.”

His shoulder droops, bobbing his head. “I get it. Germs and all.” He chuckles sheepishly. “It was still very nice to meet you.” His smile is bright again, even though I shut him down. Then he jogs backward, still watching me, then turns, making his way back down the hall.

I quirk a brow up at Ronan. He shakes his head, letting out a frustrated sigh, and waving his hand. “Don’t.”

I squeeze my lips together to keep my laugh in, then I turn and walk the opposite direction. He trails alongside me.

I cross my arms, gazing at my boots as we stroll. “You don’t have to treat me as if I’m going to blow up like a grenade. I wasn’t going to hurt him.”

His arm brushes mine, sending a tiny wave of tingles down my side. I move over, adjusting my shoulder.

“That wasn’t for his protection. It was for yours,” he drawls, pointing ahead to round the corner. “Bedford can be a bit convulsive when it comes to you. I wouldn’t have wanted him to nearly jump your bones at first sight.”

My protection.It’s the second time he’s said this, and yes, I’m counting. Why does he think he needs to protect me now? I want to retort back, something fiery, but nothing comes. “How polite of you,” I say dryly. I pull on the hem of my jacket, needing a change of subject.“So, what is the purpose of this place?”

He sighs, stuffing his hands back in his pockets. “It’s a place to become someone more than what trauma defines you as.” Ronan looks ahead, his jaw tightening for a second. “Many who attend this academy have been victims of kidnappings and were held for ransom.” And that’s all he gives me, but I feel there’s more to it. Okay…

However, an imaginary rope tightens around my throat. I don’t want tosay it,but everything in the cells of my being shouts for me to. “Like you and Carter,” I mutter through my constricted pipes.

“Like me and Carter,” he repeats, his jawbone clenching tighter. Our eyes hold each other at a standstill, like time has stopped for a moment and everything slows down.

I’m searching for the anger inside of me that would get upset at Ronan mentioning Carter’s name, the bile rising in my stomach, or the temptation to stab him right here. But it never comes. It’s quite the opposite.

I want to know more. I want to know what happened the day that led to that night and my brother being executed.

I need to know.

Feeling the shift at the moment, he looks back in the room, clearing his throat. “Let’s move on.”

He continues to show me around. There’s a sparring room, a gym, and other various common areas. Like the courtyard off to the side of the academy where most students are located for class break, either engaging with each other, reading under a tree, or pretending to spar. He shows me an underground bunker; it even has a makeshift living quarters called Death’s Door.

It’s stained, in, of course, more black and wolf gray colors. There is a bar, a huge lounge area, pool tables, quadrants for rooms, and a kitchen. More of his team is here, situated throughout the space. They are loud and conversing with one another.

“Some don’t stay here; they have homes of their own. But it’s always a place for everyone, so in case they want to crash, they’ll have their section,” he says, leaning over to my ear. No doubt, the area is beautiful in its own dark way.

He introduces me to the extraction team; it’s at least ten of them here right now and most, like Red, eyes me in skepticism, unsure if they should be friendly or neutral. I don’t care for either one, just like I don’t care for the introductions. But because I agreed to be here, I guess this comes with it.

---