Page 33 of Sweet Venom

“Read me a page,” I said, the words clipped, cold.

I didn’t look at her at first, but I heard her stillness, felt the way the air shifted between us. I wondered if she was going to hesitate, maybe pull back, but then I heard her soft breath.

“O-okay,” she murmured, barely a sound, as if the words themselves were precious to her.

And then, in that same, quiet voice, she began.

“And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

Her voice flowed out, soft and steady, and it was like the world paused around me. It wasn’t what I expected but her voice, clear and unshaken, made the words seem... different. I didn’t know how to explain it, but suddenly the story didn’t feel like just words on a page anymore. It felt like something alive, something real. Something…magical.

It was the way she said it—the delicate cadence of her voice, the unforced way she spoke, that drew me in. The words didn’t just land on my ears, they settled deep inside my soul, as if they were meant for me and only me. Her voice pulled me out of the shadows I had hidden in for so long, and for the first time, I wanted to listen. I wanted to stay and listen to her.

She continued reading, her tiny fingers turning the pages with reverence, as though the words belonged to her and not the author. And I sat there, leaning forward just a little, no longer the cold, heartless being I tried to be. Just... Azariel.

It felt... different. She felt different.

When she finished the page, I didn’t speak at first. It was like I didn’t have the words for what I was feeling. The quiet stretched between us, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was like we were both suspended in that moment, her sweet voice still lingering in the air.

“You...” I started, and my voice cracked just a little. I don’t remember the last time I let myself feel anything. “... You read well,” I said, trying to sound unaffected, but the words came out softer than I meant them to.

As soon as the words slipped from my mouth I regretted them, but then she did something that made my chest ache like it never had before. Not in pain or heartache… it was something different. Something beautiful. Tender, even.

She smiled. She smiled so big that two dimples formed on her chubby cheeks and her eyes sparkled like two rare gems.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

What was going on?

I quickly looked away, not wanting her to see the flicker of something in my eyes. But as I sat there, listening to the quiet night around us, I realized it didn’t matter. I might not have shown it, but she had already changed something. Changed me. And it scared the shit out of me.

I didn’t know it then, or maybe I did, but that was the night that Poe Vaeda Nicolasi took my broken and jagged heart and made it her bitch.

I was fucked up, and she was only five years old.

The tragic prince and his little fox.

Poe

I sit cross-leggedon my bed, my laptop resting on my knees, the soft glow of the screen illuminating my face. I should be working. I know I should be working. After I RSVP’d to thenew meeting with my heartless boss, I was asked to prepare a proposal for the first book in the series I’ve been hired to write.

And that’s what I’ve been focused on and not our shared past, not our bitter encounters. I’ve been hired to write a book for him, for his publishing house, and this is my chance. My one shot to prove I can do this. I know I can. I just… have a lot on my mind right now. This is all so bizarre, so unexpected. Never in a million years would I have thought he’d be the one to lead the publishing house that offered me a traditional publishing deal after so many rejections.

But instead of focusing on preparing myself for the inevitable battle tomorrow, my fingers hover over the keys, and I’m pulled back to a place I know I shouldn’t go. The Devil’s social media account.

I’ve been following him for years. Long before the deal. I know it’s stupid. I know it’s borderlinestalkerish. But there's something about Azariel that makes me… lose all rational thought. He’s like a dangerous obsession that I can’t quit. Every picture, every post, every little detail he shares from his carefully curated online life pulls me in—like I’m drowning in something I can’t explain.

No. That’s a lie. I can explain it. I’m drowning in him. Have been for longer than I care to admit.

What would he think if he knew? He probably thinks I’m as insane as he is.

I bit my lips, trying to focus. But here I am, scrolling through his page again. I know I’ve seen these photos before, but my eyes still linger. The last one—he’s in a black tie, looking almostotherworldlyhandsome. The bastard. He stares straight at the camera, his expression a cold detachment, like he’s seen everything the world has to offer and found it all wanting. And I hate myself for the way my heart stutters every time I see himin those photos. How he’s so… untouchable. Unreachable. He’s always been like that.

I’m such a fool forever thinking he was different.

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