Page 47 of Sweet Touch of Venom

I realize my hand is still on his chest, and his right hand has left mine, where it now digs into my arm with the other wrapped around my waist.

Too close.

“Come to think of it, I’d rather gouge my own eyes than touch you there again.”

He chuckles coolly, the wind sucks up the sounds and the air mixes with it. He releases my arm, keeping me contained andclose to his hard body still. Moving his arm around to himself, he brings up a knife, flipping out the blade. It shimmers under the white moon glow.

“I can help you with that.”

What?

I squeeze my lips together, as I look at the blade, and then bring my eyes back to him. My heart picks up pace. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“Then you must want to die before killing them.”

He hums. “This seems much more enticing. Maybe we can see if you really bleed venom, yes?”

I huff unsurely, watching the blade again. I glance his way. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Ronan's features harden, then he quickly grabs my nape, I jerk away, but his hold is solid. “Let's test that theory, or are you that confident in what I wouldn’tdaredo?” He raises the sharp end and I watch closely as it nears my eye. I swallow as my heart picks up a beat.

“You're a man of many games, huh,” I say breathlessly.

The blade gets closer. “You dared. Now we see.” Closer. Close enough to feel the cold of the steel under the fold of my eye.

My hand nears my holster. “I enjoy games too. But you forget one little thing.”

His brow tips with a low grin, flexing his fingers tighter on my neck. “What's that?”

I grab what I’m searching for and bring it up to his neck. My dagger sits near his artery, easy to puncture. “You play with the snake. Prepare to get bit back.” And it’ll end much worse for him then it would me. I can always wear an eye patch, he’ll be heavily affected by the poison on my dagger. Good thing he doesn’t know that.

Ronan holds his smile, motioning his eyes down then back at me. I gleam, although his knife is at my eye. How fun.

“You got me.” He inhales slightly, lowering his weapon but keeping his sights on me. “One day.”

I flip a rigid smirk, easing my dagger down. “You’ll never see me bleed—not now, not ever,” I retort, taking the opportunity to break free from his hold and retreat my dagger. The shine that shies away in the black sky brushes across his face in enough time to catch the menace grin behind the shadow. I back up, grabbing the binoculars off the ground. He’s so fucking strange.

I make my way towards the truck that seems further than what I thought it was when we walked over here. I look ahead so I can get as far away from Ronan and actually breathe before he makes it to the vehicle first. I march over the clumps of broken rocks that lie across on the pathway.

If he thinks-.

“Shit,” I huff, as the outsole of my boot hits on to a rock, and before I know it, my body goes flying forward along with the binoculars. Ready to smash face-first into chunks of rocks that’ll definitely leave a horrible scar. I screech, catching the fall with my hands and hitting the rocks flat on my thighs and belly. A stabbing sting pulses from my left hand and up to my wrist. Ronan shouts my name in a way of worry, as if I fell off the mountain.

Heat gathers along my neck and to my cheeks as I pick myself up from the ground and into a sitting position. But as I’m doing so, Ronan skits down, causing the extra pebbles of rocks to knock away.

“Dammit, are you okay?” His breath is heavy, not matching the gentleness in his clasps hand under my arm, that guides me onto my bottom. Normally, I would wrench my arm from his hold, but currently, my hand is searing in sharp twinges of pain.

I suck in crisp air through tight teeth, pulling my hand up to assess the damage on my palm. I don’t detect much—only a dark blotch on my hand. The murky sky is overcast, so I can’t truly see how deep and raw the cut is.

Ronan takes my wrist with a grip still on my elbow. “We need to get this cleaned now. Can you stand?”

My chest caves in horror at his concern. But I nod. I swallow the lump as he carefully lifts me; the stupid rocks haven’t budged a bit, and I’m almost tempted to kick them like a spiteful child.

I don’t.

I pull my arm from Ronan’s clutch and stalk to the truck. I grab the binoculars and stuff them under my armpit. I keep my hand extended while cupping my forearm to control the dripping. It tickles my skin like a feather, gliding down to my wrist and to the uneven pavement. I didn’t fall on my way here, so what the hell?

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