Page 154 of Venom Sweeter than Honey
A few moments of silence pass before Azrael quietly adds, “No matter how good you innately are or wish to be, eventually, time makes villains of us all.”
Jesus. If that isn’t the truth, I don’t know what it is.
“I’ll help translate that book for you tomorrow, but to give you a vague idea, syrith courtship rituals are as follows: Hunting to prove one’s capacity to provide, Grooming, which is more so about pampering and spoiling, Survival to gauge your capacity to cooperate and thrive under duress. Slaying one another’s enemies to prove your ability to protect each other…”
My brow furrows at how bizarrely serendipitous this actually is. Between mine and Violette’s dual needs for revenge, it would seem the stars have aligned.
“And then the last two, sexual compatibility and blood exchange.”
I’d been expecting this. Intuition had whispered many times that somehow sex would be part of these rituals, but having it confirmed by Azrael still ignites the jealousy in my chest like a fucking bomb.
The words are spoken low as a slight tremor takes residence in my body.
“You’re telling me... that sex is an obligatory part of the rituals?”
“Technically, no—either party can refuse the other at any point of the courtship.”
My sigh of relief feels like the exhalation of flames.
“But, my bargain with Violette explicitly stated that she and I performallof the courtship rituals together.”
Whatever wholly misplaced, purely biological arousal I’d felt earlier is extinguished. The only reason I’m not snuffing the life out of this motherfucker right now is that I have already learned for myself that he, in fact, cannot die.
“And if either of you fails to perform the courtship rituals?”
“Our vow was sworn with blood and magic, so the one who refused to uphold their end of the bargain would be stripped of their magic and die an excruciating death.”
Despair sinks like an anvil into the pit of my gut.
There was no way around it.
And just as Violette had said... It’s all my fault.
The lamp in Violette’s living room flicks off, and the darkness swallowing the room feels as though it were intent on consuming my soul right along with it.
I roll over, seeking solace in the hint of moonlight peeking through the windows, only to find the glowing eyes of Azrael’s phantom staring at me.
For a few moments, I stare back, unrighteous fury burning in my chest, only mildly doused by my despair.
Like a predator that’s higher up on the food chain, logic would tell me not to meet its gaze. Azrael’s specter looks like a thing of nightmares, but for some reason, my body and mind are calm despite my inner turmoil.
Intuition’s silent way of saying,not a threat.
After all, he already chose not to kill me when his hand was around my throat.
Why, however, is a question that continues to linger in the back of my mind because my intuition tells me that it’s for more reasons than merely wanting to stay in Violette’s good graces.
VIOLETTE
The scent of freshly baked biscuits and other breakfast delicacies has been wafting into my bedroom for the last twenty minutes. I was doing my best to make Levi and Azrael wait, but even I cannot withstand the temptation of crispy bacon. Upon making my entrance into the living room, something in my chest twinges when I realize Levi is nowhere to be seen.
Only Azrael.
Tall, dark, and shirtless.
Glorious muscles on display, and pajama pants slung low around his hips. My throat is suddenly bizarrely dry. I clear my throat. Azrael’s gaze slides to mine. His perfectly coiffed, dark hair has a single tendril curling over his browjust so.
My eyes briefly hover on the angry wound circling his neck, though it appears slightly less gory than it did last night.
