Page 66 of Sweet Touch of Venom

I shrug, noticing a little bug around the cream-colored light. “Once you invited me, it became set in stone.”

His head cocks back. “Correction. You inserted yourself.”

That is true. “Which automatically makes the rules apply. I will do the bashing you interrogate.”

We both turn to each other once we approach the large door with chains and spikes protruding from the barbed frame.

The low setting light shines over Ronan’s thick brows and touches the shine from his hair. “I figured you wouldn’t want to get your pretty little fingers dirty.”

I nip my lip before releasing a tedious chuckle. “Darling, you have no idea how dirty my hands have gotten.” Not too dirty to be clear. I’ve never actually tortured someone for information. I have seen a few of my own, though.

His brow tips, leaning forward slightly to stare me directly into my eyes. I back away an inch because it’s so weird, and why is he so comfortable staring at someone like that? But me and weird go hand in hand, and I stared right back at him.

He smirks. “You think you can torture better than I do?”

Hello pride. “Torturing takes a special kind of technique. Also, I’ve been trained for this. High class, elite, that type of thing.”

His eyes squint, a twitch to his lips shows he wants to laugh at my fuckery. “That means nothing if you’ve never actually had any hands-on experience. Just because you pulled that artsy little stunt back at Joe’s house doesn’t mean you’ve mastered the craft of torture.” His eyes roam up my legs and land on my face. Uncomfortable tingles rock me from his examination. “Something tells me you haven’t quite hit that level yet.”

I lick over my lips. “What makes you think that?”

“I can just tell. Do you even like the sight of blood?”

I swallow. There’s no point in lying. “Not exactly, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

He leans back up, tall in stature. His eyes dim, an eerie twinkle shading his auburn eyes. “That’ll change very soon, pequeña cobra.” I catch the rock bulging out my throat from his nickname for me. It’s as if he’s saying under the lines of ‘I’ll make sure it does.’ That will never happen.

He licks over his lips, nodding to the door. “How about this? You watch how I operate and take notes.”

I tilt my head, puckering my lips in, considering his offer. “I don’t see why not.”

“Glad we can agree on something.” He jingles the keys as they insert into the key slot.

The door creaks open slowly, spiking chills to run down my arm from the ominous situation. The creek is deep and loud, like it’s been needing oil on the hinges for years.

He steps to the side, extending his arm. “Senhoras primeiro.”

I give him a dry look. How sweet.

I stroll in first, the bright crystal light blaring down in the middle of the man who’s limp and leaning over in the wooden chair, arms free, and all with his blood leaking around on the floor. There’s a white patch on his belly; he must’ve had Dr. Rio treat his wound. Just to kill him in the end. It’s so sick and evil that I want to clap and bow to Ronan.

Ronan kicks the chair, the impact scooting the wood and instantly jolting him up.

“Good, you’re awake. Did you have good dreams?” He strolls over to a metal table that holds all sizes of torture knives and devices. My stomach flips watching Ronan eenie meenie miney moe which tool to use. The man doesn’t answer; his eyes are wild, skating over the entire area. He looks behind me and Ifollow his gaze toward an exit sign blaring red above a black door. I can see hope in his face, but Ronan shuts the fantasy down.

“No need. It’s a fake. A ploy for those I bring down here.” He didn’t even turn his back. He knows this man’s thought process. He picks up two things. A butcher knife and a brick. Once he turns around, his face is emotionless. I bite the nail of my thumb, watching this man turn into something?.?. .?maniacal. Take notes, remember.

Yeah, I’ll take notes alright.I’ll personally have this sketched to keep in my mind forever.

“You see, Fred, people are so caught in saving their own ass, they wouldn’t think that it’s absolutely redundant to have an exit sign in a torture chamber.” He chuckles, slowly walking my way. His eyes hooding over me. He extends his arms slightly. “Pick your poison, beautiful.”

That shouldn’t make me feel bubbly inside, but it does.

Focus, Anita.

I manage to swallow and grab for the butcher’s knife. He gives me a dimpled grin before turning around, continuing his taunt.

Fred’s breath is escalated, and his yellowish eyes were still wide, the blood staining his face turning dark. “I’ll give y-you anything m-man, just let me go.”

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