Page 148 of Lovely Venom

Mariella meets my gaze, her face unreadable. “She always does.”

I spend the afternoon pacing through Cristian’s wing, trying to dispel the crushing anxiety in my chest.

When I’ve exhausted myself, I rummage through his closet and find a T-shirt that still smells like him. After pulling it on, I curl up in his bed and lie there for hours, replaying every interaction we’ve ever had.

From the beginning of our time together at Sanctum, he showed me what real safety was. He was patient, calm, and consistent in a way that felt like a balm to my nervous system. There was so much quiet strength and protection in everything he did, leaning into him felt like the most natural thing in the world.

He never demanded trust or tried to rush the process. He didn’t raise his voice or get frustrated with me. For an entire year, he helped me work through my trauma without asking for anything in return.

He was my anchor through every storm, taming the chaos in my mind and unraveling years of tension in my body. With him, I had a refuge that felt like home when nothing else had.

He was the breath of air I’d been dying for, and I found myself dreaming of a life where I could have it forever. Then I did what I always do.

I let fear win.

But I had no idea that while I was busy securing the fortress around my heart, I was robbing us of precious time.

Time we can’t ever get back.

I mourn that loss as I imagine what it would have been like if I’d done everything differently. Where would we be now if I’d just admitted how I really felt about him?

“Hey.”

Mariella’s voice drags me from my thoughts, and when I glance over at her, I know she’s here to have the conversation I’ve been dreading.

I force myself upright, clutching Cristian’s pillow as I gesture to the empty space beside me.

“I find staring at the wall helps, if you want to join me.”

A ghost of a smile teases her lips. “I often recommend that to my patients.”

She comes to sit with me, getting comfortable on the bed as her gaze drifts around the room. When her eyes settle on a raven painting, something flickers across her face.

“Do you want to hear the story about how our father chose Il Corvo for Cristian?” she asks.

“Please.” I nod. “I’ve always wondered.”

“There wasn’t a timeline for when he would choose our animal names,” she says. “Some of us were young when he decided, and for others, it came naturally over time. Cristian’s took the longest because he was so introverted as a child, his thoughts felt like a secret you had to earn.”

“That is still wildly accurate.”

Mariella’s eyes fill with warmth as she thinks back on that time in their life. “He was always the observant one, and he could tell I was having a bad day just by looking at me. Somehow, he’d find a way to fix it…so quietly you almost wouldn’t notice.”

“I know what you mean.” I give her a wobbly smile.

“It was funny, over the years there were times he’d sneak out to the lighthouse, and we always wondered what he was doing there. He put a lock on the door when he used it, so none of us could get in. One night, I followed him there. When he finally noticed I was behind him, I told him it was too late to turn back. I didn’t actually think it would work, but it did. He took me inside and showed me what he’d been hiding.”

“What was it?” I ask curiously.

“A raven.” She blinks back tears. “It had been injured somehow, and he was nursing it back to health. He’d been doing the same thing with all sorts of creatures over the years, and none of us even knew about it. But after that, it became our little secret, and he let me help. Together, we rehabbed orphaned raccoon kits, an owl fledgling, baby squirrels, and too many seagulls to count. He taught me so much about patience and healing, and honestly, it’s what made me want to go into medicine. When I told him that, I expected him to push back, because that’s what men in our world always did. But Cristian just looked at me and said, ‘you’re already halfway there.’”

I wipe away my silent tears, thinking that sounds exactly like him.

“So anyway.” Mariella blows out a breath. “I thought long and hard about it because everyone was pressuring our father to choose a name for Cristian. He wasn’t swayed by their suggestions, but I was determined. So I marched into his office and told him I knew exactly what Cristian was. My father said he’d hear me out, but I had to tell him why first. So I did. I explained that Cristian was intelligent. He learned by observation, and he could solve impossible puzzles. He noticed everything around him, and he could read people like nobody else. You had to earn his trust, but once you did, his loyalty was unwavering.”

“And what did your father say to that?”

“He looked at me, and before I could even tell him myself, he said, ‘Cristian is a raven.’” She laughs. “I won’t lie, I felt like the sun shined out of my ass that day because I’d managed to convince him. But it was our little secret. Nobody else ever knew about that conversation. Not even Cristian.”