Page 57 of Sweet Venom

Mom gave a soft yet sad smile—the one that says she’s been there too. “Sweetheart, I know it’s frustrating. But you need to put aside any issues you have with him and realize that he’s not trying to crush you. If you believe in your story, you’ll figure it out. When you do, it’ll be amazing. Azariel won’t be able to say no.” There’s something about her voice that made me feel like everything would be okay if I just took a deep breath and stopped sulking— if I just put my confusing as hell feelings aside and did what I’m being paid to do.Write.

“Okay,” I said, sitting up with a new perspective. “Fine. You’re right, Mom. I’ll give it my all.”

Mom beamed like I’ve just told her she’s going to be a grandmother soon. “That’s my girl. And maybe throw in a little more romance and filthy spice, huh?”

Filthy spice?

“Mom!” I laughed, mortified. Spice and filthy are not words I want to discuss with my mother. Nope.

She laughed too, and it’s exactly what I needed. I needed someone to set me straight and get me out of my feelings. Mom always did that. Yes, she lets me dream in the clouds but she also grabs me by the feet and pulls me down to reality when I need it. “You’ve got this. You’re your father’s child, and he’s a literary genius.”

That he was.

I snorted. “You’re the best cheerleader, Mommy.”

“Only for my babies and my man,” she winked.

Oh, she was.

Hell, she even cheered for Vade when he got into a fight in middle school. To be fair, the jerk had been picking on our little brother, Cassian, just because he was bigger and stronger. When Vade found Cassian with a busted lip and his uniform covered in cafeteria food, he completely lost it. And, well, shit hit the fan. Mom showed up just in time to see her nine-year-old son kicking the ever-loving shit out of a bully, and she cheered her eldest son on like he was fighting for a gold medal in the Olympics. When he was done, she kissed his bloodied knuckles and walked with him and Cassian to the principal’s office to fight for her youngest. When Vade got suspended, she just smiled at us, told us to always have each other’s backs, and then took us out for ice cream.

“I know,” I reply, feeling lighter. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Anytime, my baby. Now go shower,” she said, and just before the call ended, she added, “And don’t forget the spice, okay?”

“Lots of spice. Got it,” I said, chuckling. “143, Mom.”

“143, Love Bug.” And with that, the call ended, leaving me feeling like I could do anything I set my mind to— even change the mind of the beautiful heartless prince.

Chapter

Nineteen

FUCKING CUPID WITH A BLEEDING HEART

Poe

“I’m not saying I hate love, but I wouldn’t trust it to feed my cat.” – P

The next day was a blur of newfound determination after my conversation with Mom. I shifted my attitude, deciding to stop letting all my frustration be directed at Azariel. Instead, I used his criticism as fuel to make my story even better. I threw myself into my work to keep my mind from wandering into dangerous territory—namely, everything Mom had said about love and how, every time I think of love, I think of my boss.

It also helped that, after hanging up with her, I did what she suggested and actually showered. I’m not proud of the remnants of food I managed to rinse out of my hair while I washed. Gross. I really need to stop letting myself get into that state. I love writing but I can’t be my entire personality. I can’t lose myself init, so much so that I lose track of time and then wake up looking like the dead.

Once I was clean, I heated a frozen meal: a crusted chicken Parmesan with mac and cheese, paired with a little pink wine. I lit a vanilla cake candle, fed Prince, and then settled into bed for a marathon of slasher films, which, unsurprisingly, always put me in the best mood.

Now, it’s a brand-new day, and I’m feeling more inspired with a clearer head. I’m ready to dive into the plot for my book and make it even better than before. I’m sticking with the same storyline because I still love it, but it definitely needs a few tweaks to crank up the angst and add a little more romance to really make it pop and magical.

I sat hunched over my laptop, my eyes focused on the draft in front of me. I skipped my usual morning routine—no makeup, no wine—but I did follow my skincare routine and fixed my hair just to feel somewhat human. I slipped into black satin pajamas that made me feel both overly comfortable and elegant. My hair? A long cascade of blue silk, falling down my back in a half-ponytail with two loose strands framing my face—kind of a cute early-2000s vibe.

I look cute now. Definitely not like the walking dead I’ve resembled the past couple of days.

I finish off the scrambled eggs with cheese I cooked, washing it down with a glass of orange juice.

Prince sat across from me on the armrest of the other sofa, his cold, unblinking white eyes fixed on me. Shit. Sometimes I wondered if my cat was a hellhound in another life, because it’s just not normal for a living thing to stare at you with so much disdain like he did. I could practically feel him judging me from across the room, his harsh gaze laser-focused on the orange juice in my hand. Slowly, I sat the glass down on the table, and his gaze didn’t waver.

I bet he’s surprised I didn’t have a glass of wine in my hand. The little rat thinks I have a drinking problem.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered, narrowing my eyes at him. “It’s too early in the morning for your sass.” And it was. I had woken up with a fresh attitude today, and I wasn’t going to let him ruin it.

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