Page 128 of Beautiful Venom

Preston reaches an open hand out and wraps it entirely around my face, his fingers digging into my skull as if he’ll break it.

Fear locks my limbs and I don’t dare breathe.

“You need to learn how to shut the fuck up.” His voice is creepily cold, completely different from his usual devil-may-care attitude. “You and that dirtbag Osborn are nothing more than bugs.You might buzz a little, might even sting and be a general nuisance, but make no mistake, I cansquashyou whenever I wish. Iwillend your miserable, annoying lives as I see fit.”

Pressure grows in my head and I think he’ll make good on his promise.

He’ll kill me.

I feel it in my bones—he’ll snap my neck and walk away as if nothing happened.

Then he’ll get away with it because he was born into the right family and I’m a nobody.

His hand disappears.

My lips part and I blink away the moisture that’s gathered in my eyes as Kane appears in front of me.

He’s tall. Taller than usual. As he partially obstructs my view, I only see his back, broad and wide, blocking Preston’s face.

And for the first time, I don’t loathe the view of his back.

“Walk away,” he says calmly.

“I was in the middle of something, Davenport. How aboutyouwalk away?”

I sink my fingers into the side of Kane’s hoodie. I don’t know what the hell just happened, but I was so sure Preston was going to kill me.

It’s bloodlust, I realize. I felt the red haze in his touch and each of his words.

That’s a man who’s probably killed before and would do it again in a heartbeat.

“That something is over,” Kane says without paying attention to my hand. “Go.”

“I don’t take orders from you. Step away.”

My hand trembles. What if Kane lets him do whatever he wants to teach me a lesson?

What the hell did I get myself into?

“Touch her again, and you lose that hand, Armstrong.”

Loud laughter spills from Preston. “Is that a threat?”

“A warning. Dahlia is mine and I made it clear that I don’t like others touching what’s mine.”

There’s a long, unbearable silence before Preston slams his shoulder against Kane’s. Hard. Then he walks off.

I don’t look at him, focusing on my trembling, chopped-off breaths.

What the hell is this feeling? A shot of adrenaline? The sensation of narrowly escaping death?

“Are you going to hold on to me forever?”

I release his hoodie and wince at the wrinkled mess I leave behind. “Sorry.”

Kane faces me, his expression closed off, his eyes dark. “Is that all you have to say?”

“Thanks.”

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