Page 208 of Craving Venom

This is why they don’t scream.

Because when you feel the cold bite of death kissing your throat, you freeze.

“Open your mouth,” Zane whispers, his lips brushing against my ear. “And I promise, good girl…”

His teeth graze the shell of my ear. The barrel of the gun digs in harder, making my pulse throb like it’s trying to break free.

“…you won’t get to close it again.”

The gun moves down, dragging along the curve of my throat, down my collarbone, until it presses against the edge of my jacket.

“Take it off.”

The words drip with dark command, slithering down my spine, and even though I stand my ground, the second the gun nudges the fabric, my body reacts before my brain can catch up.

I drag the zipper down slowly, and the jacket slips off my shoulders, hitting the floor with a muffled slump.

“Good girl.”

Zane’s praise coils around me, making my skin crawl and heat ignite in places I don’t fucking want. But it’s not the gun that scares me.

It’s me.

Because somewhere deep inside, a part of me is listening to him.

My chin lifts to meet his gaze. “I’m not scared of you.”

Woah, that came out steadier than I feel.

“I’ll scream,” I add. “And that gun?” My eyes narrow as I stare him down. “It’s a fucking prop. It’s not even real.”

The corners of his lips twitch.

Fuck.

That’s when I realize I’ve fucked up.

The moment the pressure of the gun leaves my skin, relief floods me. For half a second, I fucking believe it. My lungs expand, and my body sags slightly as I take a shaky breath.

CRACK.

The sound doesn’t come from Zane.

It comes from behind me.

My head snaps toward the mirror on the opposite wall. Spiderweb fractures spread from a perfect, clean hole dead center. But I never heard a shot. The silence that follows is deafening.

“Good girl,” Zane coos, pressing the barrel harder against my throat. The barrel isn’t cold anymore because it’s been fired. “When will you learn not to underestimate me?”

The gun presses harder, digging into the delicate skin of my neck and then he twists it.

Oh, fuck.

The metal bites into my skin, twisting just enough to make the pain flare, making me gasp before he smooths it out, replacing the bite with the warm, flat side.

Almost…

Like a love bite.

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