Page 153 of Sweet Venom

Because in that moment, wrapped in his strong arms and his wicked but beautiful magic, I had everything I’d ever wanted.

Everything I’d ever wished for.

Azariel’s heart—beautiful, dark, and far too big for his chest.

And now?

All mine.

Chapter

Thirty-Eight

HOME

Poe

“My heart knows I’m wrong for you, but it still beats your name.” — A

Outside the manor, the sky looked ready to fall, the wind howling like the heavens were at war. Lightning split the night with violent brilliance, throwing jagged shadows across the library walls. Inside, the only light came from the soft, golden glow of the fire crackling in the hearth, its warmth a sharp contrast to the storm’s cold fury.

I sit by the fire, my laptop open, fingers moving across the keys as I work on my manuscript. It always surprises me how easily the romance pours out. A little sweet, a little dark, and a little spicy. Of course, it’s full of magic and heart. Full of him. Sometimes I don’t know where to start, but the words still come, fitting together like we do. A beautiful puzzle.

I glance at Azariel. He’s in the chair beside me, backlit by firelight and the occasional flash of lightning from thethunderstorm outside. His handsome face is all sharp edges and focus, fingers flying across his keyboard like he’s planning world domination. I don’t doubt it. I think that’s his favorite hobby.

Fucking people up.

He doesn’t look at me and he doesn’t need to. He’s in his own world, calm, unbothered by the storm outside.

Always grumpy. Always intense. And that’s exactly why I love him. He’s just…him.

Allen is curled up by the window, watching the storm unfold. His eyes flick toward Prince, my demon cat, stretched out on the rug near my slippers, regal and dismissive. They ignore each other, still bitter after a day of chasing each other through the manor. I smile. Even our pets reflect us.

I turn back to my manuscript. The words are flowing now, almost too much. Too much emotion, too much longing, too much desire, too much of him. But somehow, it’s turning out to be the most beautiful story I’ve ever written. Well… the second best story. There’s one book that no one but my father knows about and that one will always hold the number one spot in my heart.

While writing a romantic scene, I think about Azariel. He’s always on my mind. I think back to how he looked outside of the signing event when the stranger attacked me. How his anger simmered like the storm outside—quiet, until it detonated. How he’s always three steps ahead, always calculating. But then he looks at me, and something in his eyes softens. Only ever for me.

Once, he showed me his heart. An amusement park made just for me, full of everything I love, painted in shades of blue. And when he finally said, “I love you,” I believed him.

He doesn’t need to say it every second of the day. I know. I feel it. I might be his weakness, maybe his mystery—but he’s mine too.

My mom saw it before I did. She saw how he looked at me. She knew.

I peek over at him again. He’s still typing, still lost in his thoughts. But I notice the tiny things that other people don’t. Like the way his jaw tightens when I speak, the way his eyes soften when they meet mine. He’s definitely whipped and he has the biggest heart.

The fire is warm, and the storm’s rhythm is soothing. My eyes grow heavy. I try to fight it—I need to keep writing—but sleep wins. I lean into him without thinking.

Azariel doesn’t move. Doesn’t even glance at me. But I feel it—the subtle shift and the way he makes room for me. His shoulder is firm under my cheek, his warmth steady and grounding. Perfect. Home. Mine.

I drifted off next to him while the storm is still raging outside. The fire crackles. His keys click. Both cats purr softly.

This is my world— a little strange, cozy, imperfect. But mine and I wouldn’t trade it for all the success and money in the world.

This right here is all I need.

Hours pass. When I wake up, I’m still leaning against him, my hand tucked into his arm. He hasn’t moved much, still focused—but now his hand is wrapped gently around mine.

I look up at him, eyes still heavy with sleep. He senses it and finally glances down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead before pulling back with a quiet smile.

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