Page 133 of Venom Sweeter than Honey
“That’s entirely natural, Violette. Would you be receptive to Salvatore courting you as well? It isn’t uncommon among gods for more than one to court the beloved.”
Violette murmurs a disdainful reply, more to herself than anyone else. “Why am I not surprised?”
“I know it’s unheard of in syrith culture, but you are half-goddess... perhaps it’s time to embrace that part of yourself.”
Goddess?
I suppose I should be more surprised to learn such a detail about mysoulbound,but I never perceived her as anything less.
For once, I actually want her to listen to this fucking barnacle of a man.
The look on her face is nothing short of dismal, if not tortured.
“You are not your father, Violette. Allowing two males to court you does not make you disloyal to either so long as both are aware of it.”
Her throat works.
“If anything, take this as an opportunity to be shown what you deserve. Regardless of whom you choose, I will treat you as though you are already my queen. Just as Salvatore will. Won’t you, human?”
My response is instantaneous. And far from eloquent.
“Yes. And stop fucking calling me Salvatore.”
Azrael shifts to face me, holding his head like a basketball beneath one arm.
Stillnaked.
He offers me one hand to help me off the ground, and I have the churlish urge to spit on him.
Ignoring the offer, I roll over to crawl onto my hands and knees. Eventually, I manage to stand even as my stomach roils, and my head spins.
Violette’s brows pinch with concern. “I have a tonic I can give you to help with that concussion. Do you need something for the nausea?”
The back of my mouth waters as I force myself to straighten.
“Yeah, tell this guy to put some fucking clothes on.”
I just barely manage to turn around in time to avoid vomiting all over Violette.
Rock bottom achieved.
Violette curses from behind me, and a moment later, her delicate hand is rubbing soothing circles on my back as I catch my breath and reject the taste of bile.
When I straighten, I’m blessed to witness the admonishing look she gives Azrael, who is—to my surprise—now fully clothed.
Beneath Violette’s tense brow, her gaze softens the moment her eyes return to mine, and I swear to fuck the look she gives feels like the heavens opening up for me. Her hand finds mine to place a petite bulbous vial boasting a gold wax-sealed cork and shimmering blue contents.
“This should help.”
She throws Azrael a guilty look. “I’m afraid we’re going to need help if you want any expedient resolution for...this.”
VIOLETTE
In the blessed solitude of my bathroom, my hands grip the edge of the counter as I draw in deep breaths to self-soothe.
What the fuck is happening?
One moment, I’m determinedly plotting my father’s death, and the next I’m trying to reattach the God of Death’s head to his body and playing damage control between two unruly males.
