Page 22 of Lovely Venom

She became a doctor, a master violinist, a weapons expert, and created a global network to help victims of abuse. But no matter how much she accomplished, her father never told her what she needed to hear the most. That she matters. That what she does is important. That she’s a shining beacon of hope in a world of darkness. We could all tell her these absolute truths until we’re blue in the face, but they’ll never validate her in the way that he should have.

“Hey, I have an idea.” I curl my knees into my chest and lean back against the lounge. “I’ll be your baby daddy if you want, and you can be mine. I can teach them how to dance, and you can teach them how to kill a man with their bare hands.”

Mariella smirks. “I mean, how could I say no to that?”

“I just need a willing sperm donor,” I muse.

My phone chimes, and I glance down to see a message from Bran.

“Are you going to make me guess who’s texting you so late?” Mariella asks.

“You remember that guy I mentioned from the club?”

“Bran something?”

I nod, and she arches a brow.

“Well, if that isn’t divine timing, I don’t know what is,” she says.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s your sperm donor.”

I laugh at the idea and shake my head. “I’m pretty sure the man knows how neurotic I am by now. I think he’d be the last to volunteer.”

I mean it as a joke, but as I say it, there’s a slight hitch in my voice. Things with Bran will always feel complicated and unfinished, and there’s a certain level of guilt that comes with that.

“I didn’t realize you were still talking to him,” Mariella replies.

“We’ve stayed in touch as friends. Our conversations don’t stray outside of that, and Marco knew we talked.”

“You never really told me what happened with him.” She eyes me with a curious expression.

I offer her a weary smile. She and Marco are the only two people who even know about Bran. In Marco’s case, it was for transparency, but Mariella just happened to catch me texting him once. At the time, I gave her the short and simple version about matching with him through The Society’s sex club.

Now, that chapter of my life feels like so long ago, even though it’s only been three years. Sometimes, when I try to remember his voice or the faintest glimpse of his eyes behind the mask, I’m not sure he ever even existed. I locked those memories so deep inside me, I don’t think I’ll ever get them back.

“I’m not sure where I’d even start,” I say.

“How about the beginning?” Mariella suggests. “You met him at Sanctum, right? Was it just a random encounter?”

“I did meet him at Sanctum, but it wasn’t random. I was working through some stuff, so my request for a partner was pretty specific.”

I don’t feel the need to shy away from this part, because I’ve spent years unburdening myself of shame. It’s the reason why I started writing an anonymous sex column in The Society’s digital publication, The Fifth House. It was healing for me in some ways, but I also wanted to help other women who came from a similar background of repression.

“There were dynamics I wanted to explore,” I explain. “But I’d never really had the opportunity. I wanted rules and structure. I wanted someone who could liberate me from my thoughts, without asking nicely.”

“And let me guess. Marco couldn’t understand the difference between dominant and domineering?”

I can’t help but laugh at the painful accuracy. He’s always been ego-driven, and he’s used to getting his way because of his name. He never understood that power can be taken, but control can only be given freely.

“I actually knew Bran first,” I admit. “I didn’t meet Marco until after our arrangement ended, and he wasn’t the type I wanted to explore with.”

“But Bran was?”

“He was different.” I close my eyes, and a shiver moves through me as I recall our time together. “He understood how to give me direction, and he was willing to take things at a pace I was comfortable with. We never even had sex, but he gave me the most mind- blowing orgasms of my life. Of course, it didn’t hurt that he was built like a Viking, and dominant in that ruin-you-for-anyone-else kind of way.”

“Why did you end it?” she asks.