Page 263 of Darling Venom
The sound echoed around the room, filling the corridors between shelves, bouncing off books I knew and loved.
I didn’t stop him.
I didn’t say anything.
Instead, I placed a hand on his shaking shoulder as he clutched his son’s book—his son’s soul—to his chest.
Tears are the language of grief.
And grief is the language of love.
Thanks to a two-hour stint babysitting Row, I made it to Tate’s late.
The sun had long-since vanished. He’d be home soon, so I raced to his room, a blueprint tube hooked over my shoulder. It contained three giant posters with the same passage from Darling Venom.
Blown up.
Impossible to ignore.
I needed to hang them somewhere Tate couldn’t look away from. He could pass a wall without a glance.
But his ceiling?
I stared at the spot above his mattress. Unless he wanted to suffocate, he would sleep on his side or back.
After setting a copy of Darling Venom on the nightstand, I bracketed the bed with posters.
One on the left wall. One on the right. One on the ceiling.
I hobbled onto his duvet, standing on my tiptoes. An empty trash basket stretched above my head, upside down, its base smoothing out the poster.
“I’d like to report a break-in.”
I froze.
The trashcan tumbled to the sheets.
Tate stood at the door, propped against the frame, his phone pressed against the opposite ear. His eyes struck me like two sharpened arrows. Amusement danced behind them.
A smile crept up my face.
I played along and kneeled on his duvet, thrusting out my joined wrists. “Ask the cops if they have fuzzy cuffs. I’ve always wanted to try them.”
He stalked forward, grabbed my hands, and lowered me to the mattress, holding them above my head. I wrapped my leg around his back.
He didn’t bother removing my dress before he entered me, lips meeting mine, hand dipping to my clit.
His thrusts were rough. Deep. Fast.
I came first, pulsing around him.
When he finished, he collapsed beside me, staring at the ceiling.
“Furnishing my place now?” He tilted his head, voice carrying an edge of humor. “Interesting choice of décor.”
“Took you a while to notice.”
