Page 56 of Venom Sweeter than Honey
Instead, I’m pacing as I internally deliberate the non-negotiable traits of my future home.
Peaceful.
Safe.
Largely rural would be good.
“I can give you some money to get you started.”
A derisive snort escapes me.
“Already looking to make another bargain?”
Lucen gives me a bored look. “What good is a bargain to a dead male?”
About that...
“Did you really kill him because he attempted to violate me?”
If I didn’t know any better, I might interpret the expression tightening Lucen’s features to resemble guilt at the fact his deplorable actions have led me to believe otherwise. “Yes.”
My heart is too wounded for this; for the look in his eyes that says he cares; for any semblance of concern being shown by amale whom I was madly in love with a day ago. Yet the fact that he violated me, and nearly beat me to death, is more than I can handle.
Tears well in my eyes.
“Were you really going to make me work in your brothel?”
Lucen’s expression turns to one of torment. “No, Raia, of course not. I was furious. The idea of Azrael touching you... The idea of you enjoying it…”
Lucen’s expression darkens. He shakes his head as if trying to rid himself of the thought.
My eyes narrow. “And if my father found out you’d done such a thing?”
Does he care at all for my well-being?
Lucen’s jaw clenches before, under threat of the vow, he speaks the truth.
“He would no doubt have me tortured and executed.”
I am both relieved and wounded.
Relieved that my father would care if I were to meet such a fate—that he would kill on my behalf—and wounded by the fact that it was that knowledge that must be at least part of why Lucen wouldn’t dare such a thing.
I don’t have the stomach to ask if it is the only reason why he wouldn’t have forced me into his brothel.
Lucen lowers his gaze in shame.
“I am not a good male. I know that.”
His gaze lingers on some distant corner of the room for several moments, jaw clenching, as if having some internal debate.
“This elixir is wearing off, Raia. Kill me while you still can andfoldas far away as your power will take you.”
My hand shakes as I grasp the blade, but steadies as I hold his gaze and lift his chin by the blade’s tip.
“How will I recognize her?”
“She’s a syrith... like your mother, I assume.”
