Page 104 of Lovely Venom

“Does it look like he got new ink?” Lucia asks, noticing it the same time I do.

It’s a small geometric shape, so eerily familiar it makes my heart pound.

“It also looks like he got attacked by the same bitey fish as you,” she says suspiciously.

I swallow as my gaze lands on the mark—in the exact spot where I left one on Bran last night.

I try to think, or breathe, or do something, but I feel paralyzed, and I can’t organize my thoughts. Then he turns to grab his water bottle, exposing the tattoo across his back.

Raven wings.

The world tilts as I shove my chair back and rise to my feet.

“Chantel, are you alright?” Mariella asks.

“I just have to…bathroom.” The words come out in broken fragments, and I don’t wait to see how they’re received.

I head straight into the house and start to run.

It isn’t logical.

I can’t even leave the island until someone arranges a boat for me. But it isn’t logic in the driver’s seat right now.

I just need to get outside, then I can figure something out.

I could cross the island and go to Ares. Except, visiting his house would defeat the whole point of protecting my identity.

I’m not any closer to a solution when a muscular arm wraps around my waist and lifts me into the air.

A shriek bubbles up my throat, but he claps his other hand over my mouth so it doesn’t escape.

He hauls me toward his wing of the house while I hang there in shock.

This can’t be happening.

The reel from last night loops through my mind as I start making comparisons all over again.

The signs were there. I just thought I was imagining the similarities because Cristian had gotten so deep inside my head. But as I slowly come to terms with reality, all I can think is that this man who I thought hated me is the same one I unknowingly spent an entire year with.

I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown when he enters his wing and slams the door behind us.

We don’t make it down the corridor.

He sets me on my feet and presses me against the wall, caging me in with his body as he lifts my chin with his fingers.

“Running away from me, dea?”

“This can’t be real,” I blurt.

“It is.” His voice roughens at the edges.

“It’s been you the whole time?”

“Yes.”

There’s no regret in his response. No uncertainty. Nothing to indicate that he ever thought this might have been a bad idea. And that’s when I remember he knew my name on our video call.

“When did you find out it was me?”