Page 117 of Craving Venom

“Shh. Calm down. It’s me.”

Recognition settles into my muscle memory, stilling me just enough for a breath of false relief to slip through my lips.

My skin crawls, my stomach knots so hard I feel like I might vomit. It’s the feeling of standing at the edge of a cliff, wind roaring in my ears, knowing if I slip, I’ll never hit the ground, I’ll just keep falling.

This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

I nod. I don’t know why, but I do. Maybe to get him to let go.

And he does.

The second his hand drops, I scream, a ripping sound that scrapes up my throat like barbed wire.

Zane chuckles. “That’s not very nice, good girl.”

His hand is reaching for me again, about to shut me up but I bite. I sink my teeth into his palm so hard I taste blood. I should be disgusted. I should be fucking horrified.

But I’m not.

I like it.

The way his body stiffens, the way his breath hitches, the way he groans like I just did something filthy instead of trying to maim him.

And that?

That makes me sick.

“I’m going to let you go.” He drags his lips against the shell of my ear. “But if you so much as make a squeak, I’ll have my cock shoved so deep down your throat, you won’t be able to scream. And then, good girl, I’ll drag you somewhere dark, somewhere no one will hear you choke, and show you exactly why you should’ve kept your mouth shut.”

I glare up at him, but I give a single, begrudging nod. Not like I have a fucking choice. The second his hands are off me, I whirl, shoving both palms against his chest. He doesn’t budge, but I don’t care. It felt good.

So I shove him again.

His lips curl. “Are we pushing now? Thought we were biting.”

“Stay the fuck away from me,” I snap, glaring up at him.

Nothing.

Fucking prick.

With a frustrated huff, I spin on my heel and storm down the hallway. The moment I do, I hear the soft, measured sound of his footsteps behind me.

“Are you seriously following me right now?” I snap, whirling around.

He stops, lazily shoving his hands into his pockets. “Seems that way.”

“No,” I snap. “No. You don’t get to sneak around, show up where I am, put your hands on me, and expect me to be okay with it.”

“And why not?”

“Because I said no, you fucking asshole.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that before.”

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