Page 255 of Tempting Venom

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Not funny, I know.

This letter is running a bit too long, and I’m feeling numb at this point.

I don’t know why I’m writing you this, Marcus. I’m not asking for a chance I don’t deserve, and I’m certainly not asking you to wait for me.

Maybe I just wanted to tell you everything. I wanted to blurt everything out every time you held me to sleep or when you asked me what was wrong, but the words just wouldn’t come out.

I hope this answers some of your questions, as unglamorous a revelation as it was. And I hope you know that you’re the best lover anyone can have.

I’m just the worst.

I’m sorry for wasting your time.

Let’s be what we could’ve never been.

Friends.

Preston

35

MARCUS

I’ve been drifting the past few days.

Just…existing.

Forget about hockey or my career. I might have shown up to practice and played, but really, I don’t think I was ever there.

The only reason I even go to the ice anymore is so that I can feel Preston’s presence.

In the coldness of the rink, I can sense his heat wrapped around me as his body folds against mine. I can picture him circling me in that infuriating way he loved to.

At least, at that time, I was the center of his universe.

And I loved the feeling of having his attention. I loved trapping the untrappable.

Touching the untouchable.

Even if it was for a moment.

These last few months, Preston’s always been so distant—someone I could touch momentarily but couldn’t grasp.

And now, thanks to the letter he left me, I finally know why.

He might have perfected the art of seeming normal. Charming, even. But he was suffering in silence, bottling up the horrendous things that happened to him.

He buried it deep, pretending it didn’t exist. He let his abuse fester until it took him away.

Until heallowedit to take him away.

And I couldn’t stop it.

All I could do was go on a murder spree.

Once Dad provided me with the names and addresses, I devoted myself to that.

Killing.

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