Page 143 of Sweet Venom

I was lost in thought when I heard it—the soft crunch of gravel under boots.

My pulse quickened.

I straighten up, book bouquet in hand, heart thundering, the world around me going quiet.

And then…he’s there.

Azariel stepped into the garden like a walking, breathing once in a lifetime eclipse. Black slacks, a white dress shirt unbuttoned just enough to show his chest, neck tattoos and silver chain. His dark hair fell perfectly messy over his forehead. How… beautiful…

And his eyes—those gray, glinting eyes—locked onto me.

He stopped in his tracks.

My breath caught in my lungs.

“Baby,” he murmured, his voice softer now. His lips quirked, just a little. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Wait.

Was that?—

Blush?

Was my grumpy, morally questionable not so heartless prince blushing?

Lord… help me. I didn’t think I could love this man more.

He took a step forward, and all I could think of is that I was so lucky. He’s mine, and I’m his, in this strange, twisted way that might not make sense to anyone else. And maybe it didn’t even make sense to us. But it’s ours.

It’s… perfect.

And it’s been a long time coming.

“I did,” I whispered, my heart thundering in my chest, “Just say thank you.”

“Thank you.”

“Good boy.”

His lips curled into something more dangerous, more seductive, and he finally looked down at the table, the bouquet, the gifts, the cake. His gaze lingered on the cake and amusement danced in his eyes before he turned his gaze back to me.

“Vampires don’t age?”

I nodded. “Yup.”

“Cute. You made this?” he asked, his tone dark, but there’s something soft there too, something warm that’s rare for him, reserved only for me.

“I did,” I answered, rising to my feet. “A black cake for a dark prince.” I took a deep breath, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. “I know you don’t like your birthday, but... I wanted to celebrate you. You might not like this date but I love it. How could I not? It’s the day you were brought into the world and there’s not a more special day than that.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze flickering between me and the objects before him. His lips twitched before he stepped toward me.

“It’s just another day to me. I don’t give a fuck,” he murmured, his hand brushing my cheek, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. “But for you… I’ll allow it.” He grinned teasingly. His words are almost a whisper, a dark promise, his voice thick with something tender, something fierce. “Thank you, baby.”

I looked up at him, my heart aching with the weight of it. He’s always so cold, so untouchable, like nothing could ever break through his armor. But when he looked at me like this, when he spoke with that quiet, raw honesty... it made me want to press closer, to bury myself in him.

“You’re welcome,” I whispered, barely audible, though the words hung in the air between us, fragile and vulnerable.

He raised a single black brow, skeptical, then gestured toward the gifts laid out on the blanket. His voice was rough but tinged with curiosity. “Nine gifts?”

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