Page 77 of Craving Venom

Seconds stretch between us. Then, in one smooth motion, Zane stands.

And fuck, I hate how my body reacts to it.

Because he’s tall. Tall in that looming kind of way, the kind that demands space and attention without even trying.

I take a step back.

He notices and his smirk widens.

I clench my fists. “What do you want?”

The tip of the knife lifts, tracing a path from my lips down to my collarbone, then lower. The second it brushes against my tits, I physically shrink. My shoulders curl in like I can somehow make myself smaller, make myself less of a target, and when I finally force my eyes up to his, there’s something terrifying in the way he looks at me.

“I want to mark you as mine.”

A spike of fear shoots through my spine, and I jerk back. “No,” I breathe, then louder, stronger—”NO.”

I turn, lunging for the door and wrap my fingers around the knob.

But before I can twist it, a sharp yank at my hair rips me back.

Pain explodes at the base of my skull and a tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it. My knees nearly buckle, my body screaming at me to fucking do something, but—

Cold steel presses against my throat.

My breath shudders out.

“Go ahead,” Zane murmurs dangerously. “Give me a reason to paint this room red.”

A choked sound catches in my throat. I don’t dare move, don’t even breathe too hard.

His breath ghosts over my ear, and I feel it more than I hear the next words.

“You wanted a monster, good girl,” Zane whispers, the blade nudging against my skin like a promise.

His fingers tighten in my hair, tilting my head just enough to make my throat stretch.

“Now don’t cry,” he coos as if he’s soothing a child.

I bite the inside of my cheek hard, tasting blood, because crying is the last thing I want to do.

A cruel smile curves against my neck.

“Monsters don’t care if you're sorry.”

The blade tilts slightly, just enough to make the sting real.

“I—I won’t—”

“You don’t have to be scared of me.”

I laugh. A breathless, disbelieving sound. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He tsks, as if my reaction disappoints him. “I’d rather you be scared of the right things,” he murmurs.

“Oh yeah?” I snap, finally finding my fucking voice. “Like what?”

“Like what happens when you start wanting the things that scare you.”

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