Page 208 of Darling Venom
Knowing if he did, he might end our relationship before it ever began.
Kellan made a compelling case for him and me becoming a couple. As if we were destiny. And Tate was such a black-and-white person, I didn’t think he’d be able to accept the beauty in gray.
“I can’t.” The words were spoken quietly, carried away from us by the breeze.
This was Tate Marchetti at his rawest. At his realest.
Scared, and regretful, and broken.
I pushed the chains out, widening their wingspan to slow the swing. Behind me, he stepped forward, reading my move.
I collided with his front.
He wrapped an arm around my waist, steadying me. His large palm covered my stomach and the curve of my breast. I waited for him to move it. He didn’t.
We stayed like that.
Silent.
I settled my hand on his, sliding it upward into dangerous territory before I pulled it off me and landed on the ground.
Tate took over, choosing an area by the slides. He scanned his options and parked on the edge of Neptune. I balanced on top of Uranus, criss-cross applesauce. A green slide divided us.
I’d never been big on astrology, but I once looked up each planet for Rowling. I remembered their symbolism by heart. Their rules. Their magic.
It wasn’t lost on me that Neptune was associated with dreams, illusions, vagueness, and uncertainty. And Uranus? Sudden changes. Whether these were good changes or bad ones, I feared the path to discovery.
There was something perpetually tragic about us. Even in moments of peace. We were two empty planets, bound by grief and a gravitational pull neither of us could deny. Destined to collide and end in a fiery death.
“Why did you come?” I asked when it became clear he wouldn’t be the one breaking the silence.
“I don’t know.”
Tate kicked one leg over the other and crossed his arms. I liked how out of place he looked in his suit on the playground. How he could command even this space.
I didn’t want to admit why I was desperate enough to shell out a thousand bucks to send Terry to a hotel for the night. Why I waited all night for Tate. Invisible threads tethered us together. We were marionettes, our strings tightening by the day.
“I want you, Tate.” The words flew out before I could stop them. “Near me. Next to me. Inside me. I’ll take what I can get.”
He needed time to adapt to wanting something. To accept that he deserved it.
To be honest, I needed it, too.
But it didn’t mean we couldn’t enjoy each other in the meantime.
One look at his face reminded me why I was so far out of my depth. But it was too late to swim to the shallow end.
Tate straightened from Neptune and stalked toward me. My throat tightened. He wore a carnivorous scowl, tracking every inch of me with each step.
When he reached me, he moved between my legs. His finger met my chin, the other brushing my lower lip.
“I don’t know what is happening to me,” he admitted, tipping my head up, forcing me to look at him. “I’m so fucking obsessed with you, V.”
V.
His venom.
Tate’s arm curved around my neck, fingers gliding through my hair, tugging my head back.
