Page 146 of Craving Venom

I should be sated, drained, but instead, I could go ten more rounds and still come out starving.

Because it wasn’t enough.

It’s never fucking enough.

I should have touched her.

Should have shoved my cock inside that trembling, ruined pussy just to see how far she’d fall, how deep she’d drown before she started begging.

But I didn’t.

Because I want her to beg for it herself.

I want to witness it in real-time—the moment her hatred turns into addiction, the instant she stops pretending she isn’t just as fucking twisted as I am.

The moment she realizes she was always meant to belong to me.

I step into the yard and barely take three steps before a shoulder slams into mine.

My jaw tenses, my muscles coil, but I let it go. Because if I start something now, I won’t stop. And I’m not in the mood to deal with insects when there’s only one thing in my head.

“You getting soft, Zane?”

That gets my attention and slowly, I turn my head to find Frank staring at me.

The slimy little fuck stands with two cronies flanking him, the kind of men who wouldn’t last five minutes alone but act untouchable when they have the advantage of three against one.

Frank grins, flashing his yellowed teeth as he lazily gestures in my direction. “Didn’t expect to see you back here so soon. Thought you’d still be recovering, y’know. After all, hospital beds get real comfortable after a while, don’t they?”

His two lackeys snicker, darting their eyes between us as if this is nothing more than a fucking joke.

“What was that?”

Frank takes a step closer, riding on the false bravado of thinking numbers matter.

“I said,” he drawls, still grinning like he isn’t already dead and just doesn’t know it yet, “you getting weak? Cuz last I heard, the big bad Zane got himself fucked up bad enough to be wheeled into a hospital. You fall off your throne, sweetheart?”

The second that word leaves his mouth my fist slams into his gut. He stumbles back with a choked gasp, doubling over as his face contorts in shock.

His goons react too late, I’m already on him.

I grab the back of his balding head, yank him forward and slam his face into my knee. Blood spurts instantly and a wet, broken sound tears from his throat as his nose explodes against bone.

He howls as his hands fly to his face, but I don’t give a fuck. I twist his head to the side, forcing him to look at me through his bloodied, watering eyes.

The two fuckers beside him step toward me, but I shoot them a look that is both a promise and a warning, an open invitation to die, and they hesitate.

Good choice.

“Let me teach you something, Frankie.” Frank tries to spit, but all he manages is a thick glob of blood and saliva poolingdown his chin. “Weak men run their mouths. Strong men shut them up.”

His eyes dart frantically, searching for an escape.

There isn’t one.

I tighten my grip and bring my lips closer to his ear.

“Tell me.” I press my free hand just above his gut, sinking into the soft flesh. “How do you think you’d die? You ever think about that?”

---