Page 317 of Venom Sweeter than Honey
He’s nearly as big as my human form. I’ve witnessed the brutality this man can serve directly, not merely via his employ.
Still he does nothing to defend himself.
When I hesitate, Astor’s eyes open again, voice softened by empathy.
“It’s ok, Levi. I understand.”
My throat closes to stifle the sob demanding escape. I know he can see the fat tears teetering at the edges of my eyes, but I don’t feel an ounce of shame.
This is the man that held me in his arms as I grieved my mother.
The man who saved me from a life of crime, and an early death.
Who instead gave me opportunities, resources, and most precious of all–love.
Unconditional love.
This man was a father to me when I had none.
When he could have killed me out of his own need for revenge.
I wasn’t even a child anymore, and no one could have blamed him for it.
I can’t do this.
As the first of my tears spill, my grip on his shirt loosens, and gradually, I lower the gun.
Astor straightens as I step back. His watery gaze never leaves mine. The weight of everything he wants to say, but doesn’t, hangs heavy between us like a boulder testing the limits of a bridge with fraying rope.
Lazarus and Violette slide their hands over my shoulders.
Heedless of hiding my newfound power, Ifoldus away.
LAZARUS
Sprawled out on the balcony couch, Levi lies with his head in Violette’s lap. Silent and pale in a way I couldn’t have previously imagined. Despite my prior resistance, everything within me yearns to hold him against me in the wake of witnessing his heartbreak. A soft knock sounds, drawing mine and Violette’s gazes to the bedroom door of the palace. She nods her permission for me to answer it. Crossing the room to open it, I find the bespectacled daemon king. “Charon.”
He bows his head. “Your Eminence.”
The glowing redinfernumdecorating Charon’s darkest gray skin oscillates with varying intensities of light. One large, monstrous hand lifts between us. Cradled within his lethal, meticulously manicured claws is a scroll sealed with a familiar wax stamp bearing an effigy of Cerebus.
The Royal Vassileon Sigil.
My sigil.
Already knowing who it’s from, my stomach sinks with dread.
“Thank you... Who delivered it?”
And why the fuck isn’t he here?
“It... appeared, sire.Willedinto my hands with instructions, unsigned, and this scroll was within.”
Frustration burns through me.
What has he done now, and why couldn’t he just tell us himself?
Whatever the answer is, I know it can’t be good.
