Page 135 of Craving Venom

Zane shifts again, just enough to make the creature slither across his collarbone. “You think she’s dangerous because she spits. But she was warning you, not attacking you. She could’ve aimed for your eyes. She didn’t.”

“Because you trained her?” I ask quietly.

He chuckles. “You don’t train snakes. You respect them. That’s the difference.”

He looks down at the cobra like she’s royalty wrapped in muscle and instinct. “You fear her, but she’s not the threat in this room. I am. And even I have to earn her trust.”

I watch the deadly liquid mix with Zane’s blood, it coagulates, curdles and turns into something even worse, even darker, even more terrifying than before.

Then his tone dips, almost fond. “And non-venomous snakes? They constrict, sure, but only because that’s what evolution gave them. No poison. No aggression. Just instinct. It’s funny. People scream over a harmless little rat snake but sleep next to men who beat them.”

My stomach clenches.

“People say snakes are evil. But snakes don’t pretend to love you while they destroy you. They don’t lie. They don’t manipulate.” He lifts the glass again, the mixture shimmering faintly now. “If you’re going to fear something, sweetheart… fear the things that wear masks. Not the ones that shed them.”

I swallow hard, because for the first time tonight, I’m not scared of the snake.

I’m scared of the man who’s teaching me how to respect it.

“People think fear means evil. But sometimes fear just means you don’t understand something beautiful yet.”

I stare at the snake, its black, glassy scales shimmer like spilled oil under the light, its slender, muscular body is wound around his wrist like a living cuff. The tongue flicks out, tasting the air as if savoring the ghost of its violence.

Zane rubs a thumb over its head and it’s almost affectionate. I should stop watching him but I don’t because for the first time, I notice how beautiful the snake is.

“Venomous or not,” he says softly, “a snake doesn’t decide to be feared. That’s on you. Your brain. Your past. Your stories. Fear comes from what you think something might do… not what it’s done.”

Zane’s eyes settle on me like he already knows what I’m thinking. Knows I’ve figured it out. Knows I see him as something far more dangerous.

“Fear doesn’t mean you’re trapped. It means you’ve seen something powerful. It means your instincts are working. But instincts aren’t orders. They’re questions. Do you move? Or do you stay? The choice is always yours.”

And before I can stop myself, my lips part. “Are you going to hurt me?”

Zane doesn’t look at me.

His focus remains on the snake, his thumb still stroking along its head. When he finally speaks, his answer is so soft I almost don’t hear it.

“No.”

A sharp exhale leaves me, but it doesn’t steady me, doesn’t fucking fix anything.

Because I don’t believe him.

I don’t believe anything about this moment is safe.

And I feel the next question building in my chest, clawing up my throat, threatening to choke me on the way out.

I shouldn’t ask.

I don’t want the answer.

But I can’t stop myself.

“Are you going to rape me?”

The second the words leave my mouth, Zane finally looks at me. Our eyes lock, and for a second, the world feels too still, like I’m caught in the moment right before something awful happens. His gaze darkens, and a wildness creeps in, carrying a force that makes my blood run colder than it already is.

“I’m going to ruin you.”

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