Page 53 of Craving Venom

I sit up a little straighter.

Why not?

Because I’m tired of playing nice. Maybe I want to be the one people are afraid of for once. Maybe I want to stop giving a fuck about rules and expectations and all the stupid bullshit that makes me… me.

I grin.

And what, you think I can help with that?

You tell me. You’re the expert, right?

Careful, good girl. You keep flirting with the dark, but once you’re in, there’s no climbing back into the light. You’ll bleed it out before you ever see it again.

Then maybe I’ll meet you in the shadows someday.

That shouldn’t do anything to me. It shouldn’t.

But it does.

Because whether she realizes it or not, she’s starting to understand.

What do you look like?

Well, I’m not a six-foot-tall model with legs for days if that’s what you’re imagining. But I do alright.

I haven’t even seen her, yet she’s already burned herself into my very bones. There’s something about her that fills my lungs with the smoke of everything holy I swore I wouldn’t surrender to. She’s the kind of beautiful that feels like an exorcism gone wrong, and I am a man undone by the mere thought of her.

Confidence looks good on you, good girl. But I was asking for a description, not a whole-ass ego boost.

She doesn’t hold back.

Well, if you must know, I’m petite, curvy in all the right places. And I’ve been told my smile is deadly.

Petite, curvy, and a deadly smile. Not bad. But what about your face? Give me some details.

Her next message is just as cocky as the last.

Oh, I’ve got killer eyes and a mischievous grin. How’s that for a mental image?

I shake my head, biting back a grin.

Killer eyes and a mischievous grin, huh? Careful, Faith, you’re giving me ideas.

She doesn’t miss a beat.

Oh, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your flow, Zane. Keep the ideas coming.

You’re good at dodging real answers, aren’t you? Let’s try this again—describe your face. And don’t hold back.

This time, she gives me what I want.

Fine. My skin’s pale, my eyes are wide and blue, sometimes gray, depending on the light. My eyebrows are arched, my nose is straight, and my cheeks have this natural blush thing going on. My face is oval, and my hair is blonde, long, wavy… happy now?

Damn. You do have a way of painting a picture.

Then… nothing.

A minute passes. Then two. Then five.

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