Page 106 of Venom Sweeter than Honey
With a wave of my hand, the water goes dark as I sever the connection, but not before my father’s head lifts and his eyes seem to find mine across an expanse of worlds.
Perhaps Azrael can help me enter Sinsól—warded so powerfully that not even my portal magic will gain me entrance—so I can finally wreak my revenge.
A tiny ember of hope flickers to life in my chest.
Perhaps after I fulfill this vow, I’ll ask Azrael to give me a peaceful death.
I’m no longer certain I wish to exist within this loveless world.
Maybe then I can reunite with Thessaly, Horus, and my mother.
My mind wanders to the memory of the notesomeoneleft me just before I’d begun my career as a brothel whore. Iwillit to hand, examining it for perhaps the thousandth time. It is tattered and yellowed from the passage of time, and the multiplehands it has passed through. Over the years, I’d asked several skilled scryers and sorceresses to try and suss out who had sent it. Only for each of them to give me the same response:Strange magic. No trace of sender.
At least now, I have an excuse to seek out Azrael and ask him myself.
LEVI
Freshly showered, I finally collapse naked on my bed. The note on my nightstand seems to scream at me.
Find Somnus, you absolute jackass.
The tether between Violette and me feels like an anchor dragging my soul to the crushing depths of the sea.
Why would I need to find Somnus?
I doubt he’ll have much pity for me if I tell him I just rejected my own soulbound, even if he is a figment of my imagination.
God almighty, if the universe really is a hologram projected from universal consciousness, as so many quantum physicists theorize...why would I conjure such torture?
Groaning, I roll over onto my back.
A scrap of black, lacy fabric catches my attention.
Violette’s panties.
The sight is a dull blade sinking into wounded flesh.
Fuck me, she’s not even dead, and this is how it feels to be without her?
Perhaps I did make the best decision for both of us. What kind of life is this? Why do people do this? Willingly make themselves so utterly dependent on a whole other person they have no control over?
It’s madness.
While my logic remains absolute, the rest of me has no qualms ignoring it entirely and reaches out to grasp her lace. My palm smothers my face with them as I breathe deep–utterly helpless in my need for her.
Despite the agony in my chest, I take my stiffening cock into hand. Stroke up and down its length.
Fuck, why do I miss you so much already?
My mind promptly supplies a myriad of reasons, all of which have nothing to do with the bond but everything to do with just how fucking extraordinary and perfect Violette is for me.
How desperately I ache to fill her with my cum. Yet, for some godforsaken reason, that’s not the image that fills my mind as I achieve climax. It’s to the image and sensation of her being curled within the cocoon of my arms.
The memory of holding her safely against me.
The floral smell of her hair.
The feel of her soft, warm skin in the palms of my hands.
