Page 94 of Beautiful Venom

I walk for a bit, taking note of the trunks and memorizing the shapes. It’s dark, though, with only a line of light tucked deep between the clouds, so it’s difficult to see.

The cold air clings to my skin, sharp and biting, and I wrap my arms around myself for some semblance of warmth. The night is thick and heavy, pressing in on me from all sides, and the faint rustle of leaves is the only sound in this endless stretch of unsettling silence.

My heels sink into the damp grass with every step, the soft squish beneath me unnerving. The hedges loom tall, twisting and turning, swallowing the path in front of me.

Wait.

Didn’t I just pass by that tree?

I look behind me and freeze.

This isn’t just a quirky garden.

It’s a maze.

I can barely see two feet in front of me. The shadows move as if they’re alive, the moon slipping through the clouds doing little to pierce through the blanket of black that wraps around everything.

My breath fogs the air, mixing with the cold that’s already sinking into my bones. Each step feels heavier than the last, my legs aching, the sharp pinch of my heels digging into my feet and worsening the blisters.

A rustle sounds behind me, but before I can turn, a large body envelops my back.

A cold blade presses against my throat.

My breath freezes and my body jerks, but a strong arm wraps around my waist, pulling me back. I stumble, the grass slick beneath my heels as I’m yanked into something solid—someonesolid.

The air turns thick with danger, and the warmth of his breath skates across the back of my neck until goosebumps erupt on the flesh.

I’m pinned against him, the knife a whisper away from my skin. A strangled cry forms at the back of my throat but refuses to break free as I catch a glimpse of the horrifying black mask with heinous serpentine details.

My pulse thrums, my entire body awakening in response.

His breath is steady, barely a ripple in the air. Each exhale is slow, deliberate, brushing against my skin as if it’s his hand.

It’s warm despite the coldness of everything else around us but also feels like a warning—too quiet, too composed—as if he’s holding back something darker beneath the surface.

“Kane?” I whisper.

“Shh…” He tightens his grip on my hip. “It’s time to test if you truly want this, Dahlia.”

“How…?”

“Run,” he growls, the word sliding like silk over my skin, low and dangerous.

He releases me and I stumble forward, my heels slipping on the grass.

I turn around and can barely discern his shadow in the darkness, tall and cloaked by the night.

“Three.” His voice is sharp, landing on my skin like a whip.

I take a step back, my heart hammering in my ears.

This is crazy.

“Two.”

I turn forward and my vision blurs as adrenaline kicks in.

Why do I want this?

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