Page 95 of Craving Venom

Over him. Over what he did to you. It’s been a week, and you’re still lying in bed like some lost little girl waiting for a text that isn’t coming.

I tighten my grip on the blanket. “I’m not waiting for him.”

Then why do you keep checking your phone?

My jaw clenches. “I don’t.”

Liar.

I push myself up onto my elbows. My sheets slide down, exposing more of my bare skin. I glance down, fingers brushing over one of the bite marks just above my breast.

I should hate them. Hatehim. Hate everything about what happened.

Instead, I shudder.

See? You liked it.

I snap upright, gripping the edge of the mattress. “No. Ididn’t.”

You could’ve fought harder.

I breathe in sharply. “Ididfight.”

Not enough. He played with you. He tested you. And you let him.

I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut. “I didn’t have a fuckingchoice.”

That’s what you keep telling yourself.

I swallow the lump in my throat and force my voice to steady. “He could’ve killed me.”

He didn’t. And tell me, if you really didn’t want it, why the fuck did you come?

My stomach knots, shame curling hot in my gut.

“He forced my body to react,” I whisper, but it sounds like an excuse.

Bullshit. You came apart for him. You screamed his name. You let him mark you, and you’re still sitting here, replaying every second like you want it to happen again.

I press a hand against my mouth.

I need to get out of this room. I push myself up, wincing at the soreness in my muscles. The moment I take a step, my reflection catches my eye in the mirror across the room.

The bruises along my throat. The faint marks along my ribs. The ghosts of his teeth, his hands, his fuckingownershipimprinted all over me.

It should make me sick.

It doesn’t.

Report him.

I go still.

You need to. You have to.

I shake my head. “Ican’t.”

Because you’ll get caught?

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