Page 292 of Craving Venom

But then I hear another gunshot. The sound rips through my skull, pulls my mind back to the blood, the bodies, the why of why we’re even here.

And I can’t take it anymore.

My hands leave the back of his head and reach down between us. I slip my fingers under his jacket. Find the gun strapped at his waist.

He doesn’t notice.

“Gunshots,” he drags the words against my throat, “only kill clean in three places.”

“Right between the eyes.” He captures my lips again. “Straight through the throat if you want the spine. Or the dead center of the heart. Anywhere else?” He kisses me harder. “You just paralyze or make a mess.”

My hand’s still trembling around the gun. His grip is firm but not cruel. He’s not trying to stop me. He’s helping me.

He growls into the kiss, hot breath flooding my throat as he yanks my wrist between our bodies and guides the muzzle straight to his ribs.

Right under his heart.

“You don’t have my height. Or my reach. If you’re shooting me, your best shot’s the heart.”

He forces the metal tighter against his skin.

“Your arms aren’t long enough to hold the recoil from this angle,” he says between the kisses. “Too close to your body, you’ll eat the kickback and dislocate your elbow.”

My knees nearly buckle.

“Thumb stays here,” he says, sliding it over mine. “Not under the slide. You’ll lose the tip if you fire.”

Is he seriously giving me a fucking tutorial on how to kill him, all while kissing me and taking down the cops with deadly accuracy?

“You have one shot, Faith,” he breathes against my lips, his hand still guiding mine, still kissing me like we’ve got forever. Like the world isn’t burning down around us. “And it has to be perfect.”

“Why?”

“Shoot me, and it’s over.”

His grip tightens. His cock presses harder against my hip.

“Don’t…,” he bites my lower lip, “and I’ll fuck you until you beg me to stop.”

The moan rips from my throat before I can stop it. It pours straight into his mouth, louder than the staccato rhythm of death around us.

My grip on the gun shakes as tears sting my eyes.

“Why would you let me kill you?”

“Because killing me would be mercy. Loving me? You’re justcraving venomthat rots you from the inside.”

I know he’s not offering me one shot at mercy. He’s offering me one last chance to stop craving the venom. He’s offering me one shot at saving me from myself. From the burn in my veins. From the way my soul is warping around his name. From the fact that every kiss feels like branding and I’ve already lost the right to call my heart mine.

My mind whispers to pull the trigger, but the blood in my veins, it begs for him.

And I fucking kiss him harder because I’m not ready to let go of the poison.

“I love you, Faith Selestina Collins,” he breathes. “Getting killed at your hands is my only chance at heaven.”

His lips crash against mine mid-sentence, swallowing the gasp I didn’t mean to let out. Our mouths devour each other, every breath trembling with something between love and lunacy.

He pulls back, brushing his nose against mine. His next words ghost against my lips, “and the thought of you—” kiss “being my last sight—” kiss “that’s my idea of heaven.”

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