Page 122 of Craving Venom

I don’t have a single shred of self-anything when it comes to him.

So, like a fucking idiot, I reach for my phone.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: I should’ve made you come before I let you go. You look way too comfortable for someone who was trembling in my hands hours ago.

My grip on my phone tightens. Heat burns up my neck, spreading all the way down to my toes. I type back before I can stop myself.

I should’ve called the police.

Three dots appear immediately.

You know what happens when you put an animal in a cage? It only comes out hungrier. I walked out once. Iwilldo it again. And if they catch me? I’ll still get out. You know why?

I hesitate before my thumbs move.

Why?

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Because I have something worth escaping for. Tell me, good girl, if I broke into your apartment tonight, would you scream for help? Or would you let me take what I should’ve taken hours ago?

My throat closes.

You’re so full of yourself.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: You won’t be complaining when, in no time, I’ll have you so full of me, craving Every. Last. Inch.

My fingers strangle around my phone, and when I look up again, Zane is still there, leaning against that tree, I lift my hand and flip him off.

Zane tips his cigarette in a lazy, mocking cheers before taking another slow drag.

Fucking psycho.

I shove my phone into my pocket and push to my feet. Tria doesn’t even notice. I could tell her I’m about to go sell my organs on the black market, and she’d still be screaming for Xaden’s next pass.

I need air.

I push my way through the stands and take the nearest exit, moving toward the back of the stadium when a hand grabs my wrist.

I yank back, but it’s too late.

Zane pulls me into the shadows, and my back slams against the rough brick wall behind the bleachers.

“What the fu—”

The gleam of metal shuts me up.

A knife.

I go still, my pulse spikes into a frenzy as my entire body locks in place.

“What?” he murmurs. “Where’s all that attitude now?”

“Zane—”

He presses in closer, his body crowding mine, the scent of smoke and danger curling around me. “Careful,” he warns, dragging the flat of the blade down my chest.

I flinch, not from pain, but from the fear clawing at my ribs, from the way my nipples tighten under the thin material of the jersey.

Zane’s eyes flicker down. “You scared, baby?”

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