Page 78 of Craving Venom

My blood freezes.

His words coil around me, settling deep, taking root. And I hate it. I fucking hate it. I jerk against his grip, shoving back, but he doesn’t budge. If anything, he just tightens his hold.

I force myself to meet his eyes. My heart is still hammering, but my voice is steady this time. “Let. Me. Go.”

Zane studies me for a long moment, and then, just as easily as he grabbed me, he lets go. I stumble forward, catching myself as I spin around, pressing my back to the door.

He lifts his knife again and with the gentleness of a lover he presses the tip beneath my chin, tilting my face up. My stomach drops when his free hand clamps down on my breast.

“I’ll cut you a deal.” He pinches my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, twisting brutally until a sharp cry tears from my throat.

“I’ll give you one strike to kill me,” he says rolling the tender flesh between his fingers, and my body jerks against his grip. The sudden movement makes the blade scrape against my chin, sharp enough to sting, like the skin might split open if I move again. “And you get to leave unharmed.”

“But if you don’t,” his smirk sharpens, “then I get to do whatever I want with you.”

He releases my breast abruptly and grabs my wrist. My fingers tremble as he pries them open, forcing the handle of the knife into my palm.

It’s warm.

Not the blade—that’s still cool, still sharp, still deadly—but the handle. His heat lingers there, tainting it, making the whole thing feel wrong in my hands.

I stare at the weapon, horror flooding my veins.

No.No.

I shake my head, my throat too fucking tight to speak at first. But then I force the words out. “I—I can’t—”

“You have five seconds.”

Oh fuck.

He starts counting down.

“Five.”

“Zane, please.”

“Four.”

“Please, don’t do this.” It rips something out of me, but I don’t give a fuck. I beg. I beg, because there’s no shame in it. I don’t care if I sound pathetic, if I have to dig into the last fucking scrap of my dignity and throw it at his feet. “I don’t want this. I don’t want you. Just let me fucking go.”

“Three.”

I let out a strangled sob as my grip on the knife tightens. I can’t do this. I can’t kill people. No matter how worthy they are. I fucking can’t.

“Two.”

A scream gets caught in my throat.

Fuck it.I can’t kill him, but I can hurt him.

“One.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and lunge, shoving the knife forward, hoping to hit something and make a break for it. A sickening sound of flesh meeting steel fills the air. Something warm spills over my fingers, running down my wrist.

I open my eyes to see Zane smiling down at me.

And when I look at my hand—

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