Page 80 of Venom Sweeter than Honey
Never again shall you touch another cunt, not even a fake one.
Iwillit away along with the bottle of lubricant.
Returning to his drawer, I snatch up the pen and leather-bound journal to peruse the pages.
My brow furrows as I read.
I am the untethered anchor at the bottom of the sea.
Filled with blood, but always empty.
Surrounded by many, I am still the only one.
An echoed cry on a still night.
A muffled scream stifled by my own hand.
Who am I?
Surprise and a certain knowingness—a soul-deep recognition—roll through me.
I whisper my reply.“Loneliness.”
The answer isn’t written, but I know the answer like I wrote the riddle myself.
Akash almighty.
This man is making me fall in love with him.
With nothing more than his written words, he has me reeling as though our souls have just collided.
Resolution settles deep within me as I carefully tear out a blank page and attempt his unfamiliar English script. Even I can tell it looks like I wrote it with my foot, but at least it’s legible.
Will he be elated or fearful of having a non-human mate?
My grin widens, imagining the latter.
Nothing like a little fear to heighten one’s arousal.
To punctuate my message, I press my red-stained lips to the paper and leave it for him beside my undergarments on his pillow. A small smile tilts my lips as a bubble of excitement builds in my chest—a feeling I haven’t experienced since the last time I fell in love.
The phantom sensation of a long-healed wound flares at the reminder of Lucen.
Fuckhole.
I often wonder if he survived my father’s wrath when he realized I’d escaped; I can’t even begin to imagine having to sever mysoulbondtether. Despite his manipulations and him beating me to a pulp... I want to rescue Soriya, regardless of my vow.
Partly out of spite for my father, but a greater part of me is compelled to do it because, as a former brothel mistress, I know what it’s like to have to surrender my body to someone it doesn’t belong to, and I wouldn’t wish that for anyone.
Thoughts ofsoulbondsand Lucen inevitably lure my mind towards Azrael. For the last fifteen years, the very thought of him causes an inexplicable ache in my chest.
Yuck.
LEVI
Something feels different the moment I step into my house; like that intuitive voice in the back of your mind—the one that speaks in the barest whisper but somehow is louder than any other. Thankfully, Beau—or whoever—hadn’t left any more dead animals at my door, but something is…off.
My skin prickles as I creep through my house. I’m half expecting Beau to pop out of a corner like a fucking jack-in-the-box—hopingthat’s all this is. Just a bizarre, albeit playful, joke that he and I can eat rabbit stew over. But no, the persistent presence of intuition lingers in the dark recesses of my mind, so I reach for one of the many hidden guns peppered around my house and make my way towards the bedroom.
