Page 122 of Venomous Desires

Rough fingers brushed against my jaw, tilting my face up so that I had no choice but to look at him. His eyes were pale yet dark, filled with a twisted satisfaction, as if he was savouring every moment of my breaking down.

“I need to call my mother.”

I stammered, hoping he’d let me talk to her.

“Use mine.”

“I-I have my phone—”

I watched as he grabbed the small device, and I jumped, startled, as he slammed it against the wall.

“Now you don’t.”

My mouth parted in shock as I stared at the broken pieces, and everything in me broke. I shouldn’t cry over a phone, but I couldn’t help it. I knew my mother’s number, and I could call her using his phone also, but why did he have to break it?

But the realisation that he was stripping me of everything, piece by piece, until there was nothing left of who I once was, was haunting.

Chapter 47

The Prey

There was no arguing with him, so I swallowed the lump and stared down at the phone he’d placed in my hand. It didn’t lower the pulse hammering in my ears. The world was crumbling around me, and every word he spoke felt like another stone added to the weight on my chest, pressing me deeper into the abyss.

But that hardly matter at that moment.

He released my wrist, and I pulled my hand back, clutching the phone as if it might somehow protect me from the onslaught. But I knew better. Nothing could shield me from him, from his twisted games and the suffocating control he wielded over my life.

As much as I wanted to call my mother, I didn’t have the guts to open his phone. Maybe he was testing me. Playing another game of his? To see if I’d take the bait.

Putting the phone down on the table beside the plate, I grabbed the fork with unnecessary force and forced the price of mushroom into my mouth. Under other circumstances, Iwould’ve enjoyed it, but I couldn’t. The nauseous feeling was making it hard to swallow.

Judas’s gaze was relentless, making it even harder to breathe. I chewed on the piece when I heard the unmistakable sound of spoon meeting the plate. And followed by the lowly amused hum.

I could already imagine him leaning back in his chair and looking at me with his arms crossed over his chest, with a tilt of head. With the same gaze he did earlier, like he were trying to read me, to unravel me. The towel I wore didn’t help, and neither did the pain in my ankle, but nothing could compare to the throbbing in my chest.

When the weight of his gaze became too much, I clenched my jaw and muttered. “What do you want?”

The words came out rougher than I intended, and I quickly realised the tone. I stilled. But when his snarky reply didn’t slap me, or neither he make any move to grab me by the throat and force me to apologise for the rudeness, I dared to take a glance at him.

He sat there, unmoving, pale eyes shimmering, and lips set in a straight line. He casually tilted his head at a small angle. “Move in with me.”

The world around me seemed to freeze. The air grew thick, suffocating, and the sound of the fork clattering against the plate echoed in the silence like a death knell. His words hung in the air, sinking into my skin, wrapping around my throat like a noose.

Move in with me. His voice was as calm as if he were discussing the weather, and not asking me to sign a death warrant.

My pulse roared in my ears, drowning out everything else. A cold sweat broke out across my skin despite the coldness in the apartment, and my heart hammered against my ribcage as if itcould break free from the prison of my chest.

I stared at him, disbelief clawing its way up my throat, choking me and leaving me breathless. This couldn’t be happening. Not after everything he’d already taken from me. My freedom. My dignity. And now this.

“No.” The word slipped past my lips before I could think better of it, a reflex, the last vestige of defiance I had left. It was weak, trembling, but it was mine.

His pale eyes narrowed; the same dark amusement flickered in their depths as he slowly tilted his head, considering me like a predator sizing up its prey. He always looked at me with that gaze, as if he could…. see right through me.

“No?” The corner of his mouth lifting in a ghost of a smirk. It wasn’t a question. It was a dare.

He was giving me a chance to take my words back. And trust me, every single fibre in me screamed at me to take those damned words back, to swallow my pride and submit. Cause that way, it’d hurt less. But I knew that wouldn’t be enough.

Something sickening twisted in my stomach. My throat tightened, my breath coming in short, panicked bursts the more I imagined living with him. Nightmare. Hell.