Page 208 of Venom Sweeter than Honey
“Why?”
His jaw works. “I’m just... feeling a little protective and possessive of you.”
My brows knit together at the sweetness of it, even as I worry for Azrael. “Well, that’s understandable, darling. Consideringwe’d just exchanged blood, consummated our bond, and you’d just transformed... I’m sure he realizes that.”
I watch his throat dip. “I’m afraid I’ve driven him away.”
A small smile curls a corner of my mouth. “My, my... How attached you’ve grown.”
Levi scowls. “Against my better judgment.”
A mischievous grin curls my lips. “Well then, why don’t we go find him so you two can kiss and make up?”
Levi’s scowl deepens. My grin widens. “Shall we, hm?”
A giggle bubbles out of me at the sight of his grumpy expression as the urge to pinch his cheeks overcomes me.
“So moody, my love. How about this—if you can find it in your heart to forgive Azrael whatever grievous transgression he has committed,Iwill reward you by gagging you, tying you to my bed, and lavishing your cock with my utmost affections.”
Levi’s brows knit so tightly together they form one hard, black line.
“I cannot be bribed with cock lavishing, female.”
A dark chuckle rises from me as I use my foot to lever his knee and roll him beneath me to straddle him. The surprise in his gaze is nothing short of satisfying. Bracing myself on my hands on either side of his head, I lower my lips to his, grazing.
Not kissing.
When I fold away a moment later to stand at the foot of the bed, it’s to find him fully erect and glistening with pre-cum. The groan Levi releases is pitiful as he looks down at me from the length of his body. Ialmostfeel guilty when I turn to leave.
His hand reaches for his cock, and with a tiny burst of my magic, I slap it away.
“Behave.”
LEVI
My balls ache. Somehow, even more since my change. Every one of my muscles is tense as Violette and I descend the stairs, beckoned by the scent of Azrael’s cooking. He’s shirtless and in another pair of his black silk pajama pants. His shadow is nowhere to be seen. When we enter the kitchen, Azrael gives Violette a grin so winsome, you’d think nothing at all was the matter. It further stokes my rage and sense of betrayal.
Master of lies.
I want to fucking strangle him.
When his eyes meet mine, however, I am mildly relieved to see his grin falter—like an ankle rolling beneath its owner’s weight.
“Good morning, my loves.”
My loves.
Plural.
I barely manage to stifle my growl.
Violette sidles up to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he wraps an arm around her waist, while masterfully flipping a pancake by jostling the pan.
You don’t deserve her.
She beams up at him.
Innocent.
