Page 31 of Sweet Venom
He’s now lifting the bald, heavyset man who just spanked me by the collar.
Then punches him in the face.
The impact is sickening. A crack, a gurgled gasp, a splatter of red. The man barely has time to react before Jude throws him onto the table.
The wood splinters under his weight, shattering into two uneven halves. His friends stumble to their feet, wide-eyed, like they don’t know if they should fight or flee.
They should probably run.
Because there’s no stopping him.
Jude moves like a force of nature, not a man, not even a monster—just a raw, uncontrollable force. He punches. And punches.
Andpunches.
Like the first time we ‘met’—when he brutalized Dave until there was nothing left but blood and bone.
The look in his eye now is the same as then.
Blind rage.
No limits.
No conscience.
Mario blocks the other men, shoving them back like they’re nothing, ensuring Jude’s violent spree is left undisturbed.
I should leave. I should run.
Escape to the staff room, hide my face, pretend this never happened.
That’s what I always do.
But for some stupid, reckless reason, I push through the chaos, through the people shouting, through the beer mugs pounding against wood as the crowd chants, ”Fight! Fight! Fight!”
And then I do something I shouldn’t.
I touch him.
A tentative hand on his inked arm.
His muscles bunch beneath my fingers, as tight as steel cords. He’s still clutching the semi-conscious man by the collar, his knuckles dripping red, but at my touch, he swings around, his fist raised.
My breath catches and I flinch back, my hand burning where it touched him, as if his rage is contagious.
His pupils are blown wide, drowning the color in his irises in two pools of darkness.
Violence.
Rage.
It’s always as if he’s standing on the edge of something inhuman.
But then, for a moment, as his gaze locks on to mine, recognition flickers and his fist hangs in midair.
“Please stop.” My voice is quieter than the storm around us, but he hears it.
Because his gaze drags down to my mouth, like he can read the words off my lips, which twitch uncontrollably, crumbling under his attention.
