Page 212 of Craving Venom

If I give myself to him, I’ll be pulling him toward the edge. And he’ll drag me right down with him. We won’t burn. No. That would be mercy. We’ll rot inside each other, feeding every hunger until there’s nothing left but bone and madness.

I can’t give him that.

Because this man… this fucking man… he’s not made for affection. His body stands as something carved for worship, but his soul is a graveyard.

And I just touched the tombstone.

I press harder against the tattoo, branding a memory into his skin before forcing myself to pull away.

Because I have to.

He’s the end of everything good. And I’ve spent too long fighting to be good.

The moment he realizes I won’t touch him again. Not without being pushed. Not unless it’s taken from me, the softness in his grip is gone. Replaced by the man I should be afraid of. The man who never begs.

“Open your mouth.”

There’s nothing I can say that’ll stop him. I know it. He knows it. But I try anyway, because fuck, I need to buy myself a moment.

“There are guards,” I manage hoarsely as the dryness crawls up my throat. “They do checks. You know that.”

“Let them watch.”

“They’ll report it.” I search for any scrap of logic I can throw between us.

He doesn’t let me argue further as his cock spears past my tongue, ramming the back of my throat with no warning. He growls low, as if my mouth is the only place he’s ever belonged.

“You think I give a fuck about the guards?”

I choke again as spit dribbles down my chin.

“They so much as glance at your tits—” he thrusts deeper, “—I’ll cut their fucking eyes out.”

My pussy constricts hard at the rage in his voice. He starts rocking his hips slowly, fucking my throat as though it’s his own personal holster.

“They try to remember the curve of your ass?” His grip tightens in my hair as he pulls my face down harder, burying my nose against the part of his cock where it hasn’t entered my mouth. “I’ll slit their stomachs open and feed them their own guts.”

My eyes water. My jaw aches already. But the second he bottoms out again, his cock beats against my tonsils.

“If they even think about jerking off to the sound of your moans…” He snarls. “I’ll cut their cocks off, leave ‘em hanging in the showers like a warning.”

A choked sob gurgles up past the blockage of his cock.

“They don’t get to look at what’s mine. They don’t get to fucking breathe around you.”

I try to pull back but he holds me there with his chest heaving above me as if he’s on the edge of total unholy release.

“I’ll kill every last one of them with a smile,” he whispers. “And fuck you over their bodies if I have to.”

And I believe him.

That belief burns more than the stretch of his cock down my throat. Because I’ve never been wanted like this. Never beenclaimedwith so much certainty. It should terrify me. And it does. But not enough.

He gives me some more of him before he pulls out slowly, dragging my lips over every inch of him as he exits my mouth. My lungs heave, greedy for oxygen, but the second I can breathe, I’m already begging.

“Please,” I croak on unsteady knees. “Zane—fuck…”

His hand clamps around my throat and lifts.

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