Page 207 of Craving Venom

Faith turns and her fingers curl around the handle, trembling in a way that doesn’t escape me as the door drags while she pulls it open, letting a sliver of cold air slip through, but before she can step away, I shove the door closed with enough force to rattle the metal.

Her shoulders rise and fall in shaky, uneven motions, struggling to swallow down the anger burning through her, daring me to stop her again, and I close the space between us until the steam binds us together, until my chest brushes her back and every trembling breath she takes pulls me further into the storm she’s barely holding back.

I could stand here all day.

But I won’t.

Because I want her to feel every inch of my control snapping like a fucking leash.

“The only thing I’ll bathe in…”

I brush my mouth over her ear, pressing into her hard enough to pin her against the cold steel, leaving her nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

“…is your come.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

THE BEAUTY

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I’m a fucking idiot who should’ve left. I tried, but I didn’t run.

The second I hesitated, I sealed my own fate. Every step I took deeper into this was a choice I can’t take back. My mind keeps clawing for a way out, but my body’s stuck, frozen somewhere between fear and stupidity.

I’ve seen enough true crime to know how this shit ends. I’ve binged every docuseries, watched every re-enactment, analyzed every detail of what not to do when you’re caught in a situation like this.

And what’s the number one mistake every girl makes?

They don’t scream.

I’ve seen it over and over.

The second they doubt themselves, start thinking they might be able to talk their way out, or believe that maybe the man holding them hostage will have a fucking change of heart.

They end up dead.

Not me.

Not when there are guards.

Not when I’m surrounded by people who could stop this before it goes any further.

I can scream.

Iwillfucking scream.

My lips part.

Do it.

But the second I suck in enough air to let it out a sudden, icy pressure bites at the skin on my neck, stopping me cold.

My head turns just enough to glance down, and my blood freezes at the sight of a gun pressed into the crook of my neck. Where the fuck did he get a gun?

My brain scrambles to catch up, to make sense of what’s happening, but everything slows down.

This is why.

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