Page 96 of Venomous Desires

I nodded frantically, too terrified to speak.

“This, right here is,” His hand roughly cupped my core through the jeans, and I shuddered, letting the tears fall. “is my property. My claim. I’m the one who’ll take the first bite.”

“Anyone, anyone breathes six feet near you, I’ll bury them six feet under the ground you walk on.”

His gaze bore into me, waiting for me to speak, but I couldn’t, so I just bobbed my head in a nod. “Whoever that fucker was, pray I never find out his name. Because if I do, I will make an example out of him. I will show you just how far I’m willing to go.”

I swallowed hard, the fear choking me. There was no reasoning with him, no escaping his madness. His fingers around my throat slowly traced the line of my jaw, his touch terrifying.

“Understand?”

I nodded, shaking my head violently as my hair flowed all over my face. He stared at me for a long second and then leaned down and placed a kiss on the corner of my mouth as if sealing my fate. “Good girl.”

Chapter 34

The Predator

Patience had never been a resort when it came to things a human wanted in the frisk of the moment. Ninety-nine percent of cases often ended in impulsive actions, fuelled by the urgent need for immediate satisfaction. Desires were rarely quelled by logic or reason; they burned bright and fierce, demanding attention and fulfilment without delay.

But that one percent… was the glitch.

I ruled that part.

At least that’s what I believed.

The fact that I had perfectly mastered the art of patience set me apart from the impulsive masses. While others succumbed to their desires, allowing them to dictate their actions, I thrived in the one percent.

Yet, even the most controlled mind can be tested.

My fucking belief in my patience was defied the moment I saw her with that fucker.

Ah, the irony.

The one thing I thought I had in spades, crumbling becauseof a simple, fleeting glance. Their proximity stirred something dark and twisted within me.

The urge to create havoc, to destroy everything she held dear, surged through me like a drug. Oh, the thrill of it! I wanted to ruin her, to break her down piece by piece. Skin her like the canary Mother gifted me. She always knew how to pick the perfect toy. Only this time, I didn’t want to just see underneath the flesh. No, I wanted to unravel her soul, to understand what made her tick, and then crush it all.

A careful plan began to form in my mind. First, eliminate the fucker. Slowly. Painfully. Maybe start with his fingers; watch the realization dawn in his eyes as he comprehended his impending doom. Then, leave him as a present for her. The horror, the tears, the despair—ah, it would be delicious. Would that please me? Yes. Would that be enough? No.

And her? She’d be next. But not too quickly. No, she needed to understand that when I set eyes on certain things, I wouldn’t stop at anything until I had her all to myself.

I could already imagine her screams, the terror in her eyes when she realised there was no escape. To peel back her layers, not just her skin but her very essence, exposing the raw, vulnerable core beneath. And then, when she was nothing but a trembling mess, I would decide whether to end her or let her live with the memory of what I’d done.

Yes, patience was my ally, and chaos my weapon.

She was an anomaly that stirred the calm waters of my plan.

Her sniffles pulled me out of the mayhem creating in my head. I let my eyes rake over her. Pressed against the couch as if it’d save her. I was so fucking enraged I almost forgot what I was planning to do to her. Fuck her and her infuriating existence. I’d fuck her once and get it over with.

I could see the spark of rebellion in her dark eyes, the need to run. I waited for it, intending to squash it once and for all. Shefidgeted with her hands, and I noticed her fingers had turned blue. Now that I think, she was always wearing filthy clothes, not warm enough. She was wearing baggy jeans and an ugly sweater that swallowed her tiny frame.

But still, the rage inside me was all-consuming. It took my will and my fucking everything to not go back and put a bullet through his head. He dared to touch her. And that it was the second time I saw him with her, and she even lied to me. She fucking lied to me, to save the skin of another man. I hadn’t validated my claim on her yet, but that didn’t mean she could go around and bat her fucking lashes at some bastard.

Her pathetic existence only fueled my anger.

I approached her slowly, savouring the fear that flickered in her eyes. She pressed further into the couch as if it could protect her from what was coming. It was almost laughable, really, how she thought there could be any escape.

And why did this expression make her look a thousand times more beautiful? Was it because she knew I could see? Like I fucking cared. I wouldn’t say I liked the way she acted all scared in front of me, though that’s what I wanted earlier, and like a wrecking fireball in front of that bastard. Did that mean he saw expressions other than fear on her face?