Page 174 of Making Choices

A second kick bruises my shoulder.

My duchess screams, “Stop it. Please. Zeke.”

As the bitter taste of misery fills my mouth and reality seeps into my bones, I close my eyes and accept the punishment Venom’s dealing out. He’s right to be angry. He’s right to feel betrayed. When he seizes hold of my hair and jerks my head back so he can land the blow that puts me to sleep, I surrender to his violence.

“Bring it,” I murmur.

He doesn’t.

Instead, the woman we love does what she does best.

She saves us from our darkness.

Jumping onto Venom’s back, she soothes him with the truth.

All the while, she breaks my heart.

“Please. Stop. I didn’t fuck him. There’s been no one but you, I promise.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

They exchange yet another heartfelt vow, one that enrages the monster that lives in my gut. My jealousy usually slumbers, sleeps easy as I bury it deep, so I can pretend to be the good guy. Today, though, it’s awake and it’s determined to motivate me.

I’m sick to fucking death of failing.

Sick to death of being the one to put everyone else first.

I want her.

If I can’t have her, then neither can he.

Remaining silent, I watch through dispassionate eyes as Cherub does her best to explain how innocent our interactions have been in Venom’s absence. Like a snake, I bide my time, slowly pushing back to my feet as I wait for the right moment to declare my hand. Part of me relishes my duchess’ growing distress, and I refuse to meet her eyes as she silently pleads with me to back her up.

Venom isn’t stupid.

He sees straight through her.

As Cherub’s face drains of colour and she refuses to give him the answers he seeks, Venom turns his questioning on me. “You love her?”

“Yeah.”

“Like I do?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve touched her.” Venom’s stare is unblinking as he adds. “Made her come.”

For some reason, his lack of reaction jerks me out of my jealousy long enough to offer Cherub an apologetic look as I lift my chin to defiantly declare, “Twice.”

“Oh, this is just brilliant,” Bebe screeches. Since I’d forgotten she was still here, her shrill voice makes me grimace. I block out her tirade as she acts like a lover scorned when she’s actually a non-factor in this equation. “I’m pregnant. The most likely father is a bloody biker who’s in love with his best friend’s ex-fiancée. A man who’s made her come twice as he just, oh, so, proudly admitted to everyone listening. My life is officially a soap opera.” The glare she offers me is ridiculous in the context of the truth of our relationship. Of course, Venom isn’t privy to the real situation so he hits me with a look that’s full of loathing and worry as the mouthy mob bitch screams, “Don’t call me. Don’t text me. I no longer give a crap about organising a DNA test. You can forget this child even exists. I hope you three have a very unhappy life together. God knows you deserve it.”

The door slams behind her.

Venom heads for the helmet rack.

I grin.

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