Page 202 of Craving Venom

“Miss? Everything okay here?”

A guard steps toward us and his eyes narrow slightly as they move between me and her.

Faith’s lips part, but I beat her to it.

“Relax.” I scoff, giving him the same look I’d give a fly buzzing too close.

“Just helping her.” I hold up the book. “She was stuck.”

“Right.” His tone’s clipped. “Move along.”

I step back, handing Faith the book.

“Careful, baby,” I speak softly so only she can hear. “Wouldn’t want you getting lost in the wrong section.”

Her jaw clenches, but I’m already gone.

I settle into one of the chairs near the back, the cuffs rattling as I stretch out, crossing one ankle over my knee.

Faith hesitates for a moment. Then, without looking at me, she moves to the opposite side of the table, clutching the book.

The other students file in, chit-chattering amongst themselves. Some glance my way, pretending not to stare. Faith, though? She stares down at her notes.

She’s trying so hard not to look at me.

Dr. Harrington enters next with his too-tight suit straining around his gut as he clears his throat and plasters on that fake professionalism as if it somehow makes him immune to the criminals around him.

“Alright, everyone. Settle in. We’re going to begin the Q&A session. Let’s start simple. Who has a question for the inmates?”

They start with the easier questions. The ones they think will give them insight into the minds of criminals.

“Why do you think people end up here?”

“Do you believe prison changes people?”

Basic.

Bullshit.

The inmates answer. Some with rehearsed lines. Others with cocky grins, throwing out sob stories they think will make them seem more human.

Faith’s hunched over her notes, pouring everything into them, keeping her head down and hoping that ignoring me will somehow make me disappear.

Not a fucking chance.

My eyes stay on her.

“Mr. Valehart…”

The fake sugary voice cuts through the silence, dragging my attention to the redhead sitting a few rows away. I don’t even need to look directly at her to know exactly what I’m dealing with. She has that bright smile, wide eager eyes, and legs crossed as she leans forward, practically begging me to notice her.

“Considering you grew up in a mansion the size of our college campus,” she purrs, probably thinking it sounds seductive, “how was it… adjusting to a tiny space like this?”

The way she drags out tiny makes me want to laugh.

“Tiny?” I echo, but the mockery is fucking obvious. “It’s not the size that matters, sweetheart. It’s what you do with it.”

Her cheeks flush immediately, and a few muffled laughs break out from the other students. Across the room, Faith’s grip on her pen tightens, and for a second, I wonder if she even realizes how much she gives away without saying a word.

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