Page 43 of Sweet Venom
I grab her chin, my fingers digging into the skin. “Do you have any fucking idea what you’re saying?”
Her sad fucking eyes stare at mine, lingering, peering. I can tell she’s uncomfortable, but she still keeps up the eye contact. “Isn’t that what you want?”
“What about what you want?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
I wrap my other hand around her waist and slide it beneath her hoodie, on the small of her back, my fingers tracing the two dimples there.
“Do you believe you can fucking handle me? I’ll break your cunt the fuck up.”
She swallows, her throat bobbing up and down, but then she does the most Violet thing ever—she forces a smile. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t care. Won’t be my first disappointing sex.”
What the fuck…?
Did she just call the possibility of sex with me a potential disappointment?
As in, she lumped me in with all the limp-dicked assholes she’s had sex with?
I realize I’ve loosened my hold on her, because she steps away, hopping over the bloody mess. “Let me know when you want that so we can get it over with.”
And then she leaves, all but running away while gripping the strap of her backpack.
Get it over with.
That’s what she said, right?
Like it’s a fucking chore?
I tilt my head to the side, staring at the man’s dead eyes and wondering why the fuck I’m not countering Violet’s insolence with the same actions.
10
JUDE
“Fuck yes!” Preston shouts, standing up and dancing mockingly while waggling his brows.
The game controller dangles from his hand before he throws it on the table and lounges back on the sofa, taking a sip of beer.
We’re chilling in my penthouse, on the farthest side of Ravenswood Hill—an exclusive gated community up the hill that overlooks Graystone Ridge, where founding members live.
It’s shadowed by trees and has iron-clad security that forces anyone with a wish to survive to stay away.
The place I live in is sparse with little to no furniture. The only reason I have a sofa, TV, and a gaming console is because Preston brought them over. Or the men he sent did. At seven in the fucking morning the day after I moved in.
That was a few months ago, following my mother’s death. I had no plan to continue living with Regis in that large, unfeeling Callahan mansion he calls home.
“My Highness would be open to teaching you some skills, peasant.” Preston leans back against the sofa, grinning at me with that provocative edge. “All you have to do is get on your knees, call meMaster, and beg.”
“Says the loser who demanded we keep playing until you win.”
“Never happened. Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He passes me the bottle of beer and I take a sip, throwing down my game controller as the score is displayed on the screen.
Pres has been here since last night. When I came back from a run, I found him sleeping on the couch, upside down, with the TV playing someTom and Jerrycartoon. He loves crashing here most of the time since he has furniture and essentials here and can get a good night’s sleep. Though we both prefer to barge into Kane’s space and make him cook for us, that weirdo loves working out on his days off, while Preston and I love doing nothing.
Actually, we prefer maiming people to doing nothing.
“Besides—” He kicks my side. “—you should let me win after you took away my kill the other day.”
