Sweet Venom by Rina Kent - 24

24

I had every intention of letting Violet go.

Not because of Julian’s or Kane’s threats. I couldn’t give two fucks about those, and they certainly don’t influence my actions.

It’s because of something deeper.

Because she chose death to fucking escape me.

Violet preferred to take an experimental drug that had a high percentage chance of killing her just so she could have another life away from me.

She didn’t attempt suicide like I was led to believe that day she was attacked, but she still chose death over me.

A coma.

Leaving the one person she deeply cares about, Dahlia, and risking never opening her eyes again.

Just to escape me.

For that reason, I kept my distance after she woke up. I avoided her, even—which was difficult, considering we live in the same town and attend the same college.

During the time I stayed in the shadows, I indulged in my favorite habit.

Murder.

I killed more people in a couple of weeks than I normally did in a month, enabling Preston’s mania in the process. But then again, I couldn’t control myself, let alone help rein him in.

We did it for Vencor instead of my vendetta because I’m trying to prolong it. I’m down to only three names on my list.

Three .

And then I’ll have no purpose.

Mom will still be gone, and there’ll be…nothing.

Maybe that’s why I came back into Violet’s life. Maybe it’s because I saw her talking to Preston and having lunches with Kane and Dahlia and hated that my friends got her smile, and I didn’t.

Maybe it’s because I saw her by the arena and was enraged that she might have her sights on someone on the team.

Not sure what the actual reason is, but I fell so easily back into old habits. It’s almost as if I never stopped.

Like right now.

I put in the code to her penthouse and walk in.

And yes, I have the code. Of course I do.

She won’t know how I have it, though.

So, yes, I’m back, even though I truly intended to let her go.

Just kidding.

I would’ve always only done that temporarily, but still, I was going to avoid contact with her for at least a month.

Just kidding again.

Because I was around. I couldn’t have avoided her when I’ve been roaming in her environment. She just wasn’t aware of me, because Violet has shit awareness of her surroundings.

Or I’m just that good at camouflaging my presence.

I was here when Dahlia and Kane first showed her this house. I was on the terrace, actually, watching through the window, just to see her reaction to all the blue.

Violet was half in awe, half uncomfortable because she doesn’t like to owe others, and she feels like she’s imposing on Kane.

I could read all of that on her face even when she was smiling, and it disturbed me because, why the fuck am I that good at reading her?

After that, I didn’t come around here as much. Until a week ago.

My steps are silent as I walk into the dimly lit space. There’s always a light on here— always . She turns it on remotely about half an hour before she comes in.

Over the past few weeks, Violet has added a few personal touches to the place—some throws and embroideries on the pillowcases in the form of stars, half-moons, suns, and a tree of life. It’s like the sketches she scribbles in her journal.

The same journal that shoved me back into her life at full speed.

I didn’t mean to come in while she was working. I only ever wanted to…check on things. See if she’s having any suicidal thoughts again.

And the best place to look into her thought process is her journal.

But instead of suicidal thoughts and her usual musings about why her mom didn’t love her, I found something a lot more interesting.

Entries upon entries of sexual fantasies.

And not just any fantasies—Violet has a somnophilia fantasy. She wanted to be visited by the man of her dreams in the middle of the night and be ravaged whole.

Which I almost did when she was thrusting her fingers inside her cunt for me to see. The only reason I didn’t fuck her was because I needed to talk to her about it first, and I wouldn’t have been able to stop .

It was pure fucking torture not to ram my hard cock into her wet, glistening cunt. But I did come down that pretty throat as she blinked up at me with lust and pure confusion.

I can still see her face flushing a deep shade of red and her eyes growing wide and glittery blue.

It’s fruitless to wonder why the fuck Violet is the only woman who’s had this effect on me. Fucking has always been an animalistic need for me, just like violence, so I couldn’t care less about my sexual partners, and they couldn’t care less about me either. It’s always been physical and fleeting, where I fuck the girls, they have a good time, and then it’s over.

This is the first time I’ve wanted to own someone, chain them to me, not allow them to leave my goddamn sight.

And that someone had to be Violet.

And Violet, thinking I no longer snoop in her journal, has been writing constantly about sex lately. She didn’t even mention the time I ate her on the kitchen counter or how she rode my boot in that alley, but I now know it’s because she didn’t want me to see her thoughts.

She has lots of those—thoughts about sex and fantasies.

One of them is being ambushed. She mentioned that it happened in her dreams with her fucking fantasy man, who I’ll find and maim to pieces.

Because she can’t have anyone but me.

She won’t.

Which is why I’m here again. To erase any motherfucker she has fantasies about.

I’ll fulfill all of her fantasies, especially this ambushing one. My own demons roar at the thought of her trembling body beneath mine.

Her breaths stuttering like when I kissed her for the world to see this morning .

Her heart thundering like when she held on to me on the back of the bike.

Fuck.

I’m getting hard already.

My cock seems to have a mind of its own whenever Violet’s involved.

I adjust my erection and grab her Kindle from the top of the coffee table. All her physical books are some self-help nonsense and human sciences garbage.

So I expect her Kindle to reflect that.

Wrong.

My brows arch when I find what seems to be romance books with skulls, snakes, or men on the covers.

Hmm.

I take a picture of what’s in there, especially the ones she has in a ‘Favorite’ folder, so I can do better research.

I’m about to open one of the books when my phone dings.

Kane

What the hell is this, Callahan?

Attached is a picture of me kissing Violet.

I save it.

Preston

It’s called kissing? Something you do a lot of with Daphne, remember?

Kane

You stay out of it.

Preston

No can do. I’m Jude’s defender for life, and I like Vee.

Me

Her name is Violet.

Preston

Nah, too long. She’s so adorable, BTW! Had lunch with her earlier, and she gave me her drink and even shared her food. I want her.

You’ll want your fucking grim reaper when I’m done with you, Pres.

Preston

Jeez. I was just saying. Figuratively. Unless, it becomes literally. You never know.

Fuck around and find out.

Preston

It’s not in your best interest to piss me off when I can spill all your secrets, big man.

Kane

As I was saying, what the fuck were you doing, Jude?

I don’t answer to you.

Preston

What Jude said.

Kane

You promised to stay the hell away from her when I gave you the full list.

I never mentioned how long I’d stay away. Also, technically, I only promised not to kill her, which is a promise I’m keeping.

Preston

I also vote don’t kill her.

Kane

Dahlia is worried you’ll pull some shit.

I don’t give a fuck about what Dahlia thinks.

Preston

Me, neither. *high five gif*

Kane

Well, I do. And I won’t sit still if you hurt her only family.

Is that a threat?

Preston

I vote a threat. Let’s fight.

Kane

It is whatever the fuck you see it as. I didn’t spend precious resources to keep Julian away so you’d ruin it. If you’re messing with Dahlia, you’re messing with me.

Preston

BRB, I’m gonna bring my favorite knife. This will be epic.

I told you this before and I’ll say this again. Stay the fuck out of my business, Kane.

Whatever I do with Violet is none of his or Dahlia’s business.

Not even sure what the fuck I want to do with her in the first place.

Except stake a claim so no other assholes will come near her.

That one’s for sure.

Everything else, however, is still wobbly and tentative. In a sense, it feels like the start of something new.

In the beginning, I approached Violet to torment and kill her, but now, I don’t possess any trace of those thoughts.

Not sure when they completely disappeared, but it happened long before she was in a coma.

There’s still anger, though. Or maybe it’s tension. Aggression.

A need to fucking punish her for choosing to go into a coma.

My phone lights up with a text from Preston, who’s been trolling this entire conversation, but I don’t get to read it, because the sound of the door unlocking echoes in the penthouse.

I click on the app on my phone, turning the entire place pitch-black. The only light comes from the town seeping through the large window.

My vision instantly adjusts to my surroundings, courtesy of countless hunts in dark forests.

Violet, however, panics.

I can see the contours of her body as she freezes, her limbs locking before she fumbles in her pocket for her phone.

“Shit,” she whispers, her voice trembling, her fingers unsteady.

She truly is afraid of the dark .

One more reason why this is the perfect setting for what I have planned.

“God.” She taps fast, her movements chaotic, her breathing shallow.

The door closes behind her, and she visibly jumps, dropping the phone. As it clatters on the floor, light glows from the screen, and Violet starts to lower herself to pick it up.

But I’m already moving.

As if walking on nonexistent ground, I’m completely drawn to the girl I should’ve stayed away from but couldn’t.

Not since the very first time I saw her.

Or the second.

Or the hundredth.

There’s something about Violet Winters that calls to a strange side of me. It might have to do with the disturbing memories that plagued my sleep after Julian said she chose to be his lab rat and risk death just to escape me.

Or distant memories of soft hands that turned brutal or tears that couldn’t be wiped away.

No matter how much I’ve tried to separate the two, Violet and my childhood memories seem to correlate.

A part of me is rebelling at that thought, writhing and falling and rolling and revolting at the very thought of those memories that I erased a long time ago.

The murmurs.

The screams.

The blood.

They’re getting louder and more vicious, screeching and ripping at the bandages with bloodied fingers.

But the moment I touch Violet, they fade into the background, their slimy forms retreating and vanishing from sight .

She goes still, even as I push her against the wall, twisting and securing both her wrists behind her back with one hand.

Her body slowly relaxes as I lean into her, my cock raging hard against her ass and my mouth a few beats away from her cheek.

I’m breathing harshly and so is she, her inhales stuttering, her lips parting, begging to wrap around my goddamn cock.

But even with her erratic breathing, she’s not stiff.

I know she recognizes me even before she whispers, “J-Jude?”

“Mmm.” I nuzzle my nose in her hair and briefly close my eyes as the scent of her rose shampoo overloads my senses.

Why the fuck am I even sniffing her hair?

“What are you doing?” she asks in a small but clear voice.

I grab her jaw and speak so close to her lips, I touch them with every word. “Going through your list of fantasies one at a time. You wanted to be ambushed and used, remember?”

She trembles, but her body melts against mine, her fingers twitching. “That’s not…”

“Blue,” I say.

“What?”

“Say blue, and I’ll stop.”

Her breathing cracks, then her lips accidentally touch mine, and she purses them but doesn’t say the word blue and, instead, nods.

Because she’s defective just like me, my Violet.

I always thought we shared a fucked-up connection, and it’s about time to see how fucked up it can be.

“This is about to get dirty. Buckle up, sweetheart.”