Page 129 of Sweet Venom

Fuck.

I sat back in the leather chair of my home office, the quiet hum of the monitors the only sound that filled the air. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, but I wasn’t focusing on the reports I had to look over before signing contracts. I had no mind for it.No, tonight my attention was fixed on the monitor showing Poe’s room.

I had been watching her for days, though she had no idea. Poe never noticed when I watched her from a distance. I had perfected the art of lurking in the shadows long before I became skilled at reading her every move. But tonight, was different, I wasn’t watching her like I normally did. I was searching her carefully, trying to find signs of distress. She iced me out, and like a fucking coward I retreated because I… I got fucking scared.

Shit.

Me— a man who has seen hell more than once— afraid.

But I am. I could experience a thousand nightmares of memories of my past, I can handle that but I can’t bear a single nightmare of a life where Poe’s heart wasn’t beating and wasn’t mine.

And since the book signing, she had been acting different. It wasn’t that she was scared or sad—it was something quieter, something that hurt me. She was weary as if she didn’t trust she was safe. She tried to hide it with dark humor but she did a terrible job.

Because I could see the truth in the way she held herself, in the way she avoided my gaze, in the way her hands trembled slightly when she thought I wasn’t watching.

I wonder if there’s something more that I don’t know. I thought the root of her social anxiety was a trait she inherited from her father. Valentino Nicolasi is not exactly the most social of men and I truly believe he would rather hold a conversation with a rock than indulge in it with a human that doesn’t share his blood.

Was there more?

Poe even in her quiet and shy nurture when she was a kid, she was always so strong and even now as a woman she isunshakable, but she was retreating into herself and I fear I won’t be able to reach her if this goes on.

While I spent those two days locked in my office watching her, she spent her days holed up in her room, writing. Her fingers typed quickly on the keyboard, but I knew there was no real peace in her mind.

I saw it though. She might be going through it but she was also trying to work through it, trying to push her fears aside.

I also noticed how often her small hands moved to her hair, lightly tugging at the roots, like she was searching for something. A reassurance? I knew what that color meant to her. It reminded of her father. Her safe place. The strongest man she knows. I should be jealous but I’m not. How could I? Valentino is another man who would rip his heart out of his chest if it meant it made his girl happy.

I leaned closer to the screen, and the image of her fidgeting bothered me. Her black roots were growing in and that bothered her but she preferred to stay quiet.

Stubborn, beautiful little fox.

Frustration rises in my chest. I hated seeing her like this—vulnerable and uncertain. Poe was a woman made of stardust and fire, someone who held the world at arm’s length so it didn’t hurt her. And now, it felt like she was slipping through my fingers.

I couldn’t let that happen.

I gave her space to breathe but I can’t let this go on. She needs to know that she’s safe and what happened will never happen again.

I’ll rip my heart out before it ever does.

My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. My head snapped up from the screen, anger burning in my chest.

Cato stood in the doorway.

His posture was rigid, hands folded behind his back like he was barely restraining violence. His eyes, cold and flat, held the kind of boredom that came from a life too used to blood. The only person I allowed inside my home was him—not because I trusted him, but because I knew exactly what he was capable of. Cato had walked through hell and made it kneel. Whatever darkness I carried, he drowned in worse—and survived.

That made him invaluable. Not just a weapon. A scalpel. Precise.

Unfeeling. Deadly. A villain in every sense of the word, but mine to wield.

Without speaking, he crossed the room and placed a small black box

on my desk. I didn’t need to ask. I knew what it was. I’d asked for it.

Poe’s hair dye—the exact shade she always used.

I stared at the box for a long moment, my fingers lingering on it

before I lifted my gaze to meet his.

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