My heart slams against my ribs.
The world tilts to the side.
He brushes my hair back, before using it as a grip. “You're mine, Venom. None of this will change that.”
The claim should terrify me. Instead, it ignites something feral in my chest.
“I don't belong to anyone.” Even as I say it, my body betrays me. Arches into his touch.
“Liar.” His mouth hovers over mine. “And you fucking know it.”
His lips crash into mine, swallowing whatever protest I was forming. The kiss is possessive. Consuming. It tastes like a future that’s mapped out for me without me even realizing it.
Mariee de la Mort doesn't get happy endings. She doesn't get this… whatever it is.
Asher breaks the kiss, fingers gliding along my collarbone. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs.
His hand stills. Those blue eyes lock onto mine, searching for something I can't give him. Something I don't have left to offer.
My chest constricts, each breath harder than the last.Prove you’re loyal to me.
Please don't.Don't make this harder than it already is. Don't make me choose between what I am and what I want.
My heart squeezes so tight I think it might shatter.Oh my fucking God why is this so damn hard.
My hands move over his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heartbeat beneath my palms. Up to his neck where that rope of leaves wind behind his ear. His hair is darker tonight, wet from the snow outside. Too pretty to be mine. Too good for what I am.
“We need to say goodbye,” I whisper, rising onto my toes. His lips hover inches from mine, close enough that I can taste him. “Please forgive me.”
Asher Jameson came with a fiancée.
He'll leave in a body bag.
His eyes widen. Understanding flashes across his face. There's something there, disappointment, maybe…
“Venom, wait—”
But I'm already pulling the trigger.
The gunshot cracks through the air, the kickback slamming into my chest as my finger trembles against the trigger.
Except.
Except Asher's hand shoots up, catching my wrist. The bullet tears through the wall behind him, sending plaster raining down like snow.
“What the fuck,” he growls, yanking the pistol from my grip. It clatters across the tiles, skidding through Parker's blood. “Yeah? Really?”
My eyes burn. A single tear rolls down my cheek, hot and foreign.
I haven't cried since I was twelve.
Since the night everything changed.
Asher's grip on my wrist tightens, bruising. His other hand fists in my hair, forcing my head back. “You were really gonna fucking shoot me, Venom?”
Not a question. An accusation.
“Yes.” I'm exactly as he calls me. Venom. Spiteful. Poisonous. Put on this earth to kill.
