Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
He pauses, setting his weight back. “You’ve got questions, I get that, but I can’t answer them right now. Camille…”
His fingers stroke the spot he just pulled, loosening their hold in my hair.
“Know this isn’t about her, and it’s not about what happened in Désamour. That’s the first thing you need to get rid of.”
His eyes darken, and I trace the carved lines of his mouth, desperate to feel them again.
“You, Ivanya. It’s always been about you. That’s all I’ve got for you right now.”
He bends down, lips grazing the shell of my ear. “Out there… show them Mariée de la Mort.”
I’ve heard many people whisper that nickname, but never has it sounded quite like that. Mah-ree-AY day-lah-mo.
He leans back a little. “That is who you are, right?”
Silence.
My back hits the wall when he crowds in.
His eyes narrow. “Right?”
My heart skips several beats. “Camille will be wondering if you’re fucking your wife.”
“Answer my question,” he presses, not blinking. “Tell me I’m wrong. Lie to me again.”
Everything is quiet, the tension absorbing the space around us.
I step away from him, but he uses his body to cage me in place. He’s never going to let any of this go, but this isn’t only a secret that impacts me. It’s so much more than me, and it’s something an ego-hurt twenty-six-year-old can’t possibly understand.
No matter how much I want to make excuses for him, that’s what he is.
“If you have to ask me such things, then you already know I can’t answer.” I hold his gaze. “And you never answer any of my questions.”
Veins ripple over his neck.
I push on. “Where have you been for the past year?”
This is more than our argument now. I need to know how he got out.
“How’d you get out? Why aren’t you upset that Parker is dead, since he was your friend, wasn’t he? Why were you both fighting last winter?”
The muscles in his face relax, his eyes turning lazy.
I’m so glad I amuse him.
That grin spreads wide, pulling at every piece of control I have left.
“Stop thinking I’m one of you, Ivanya. If I were?” He chuckles, before it dies in his throat and he tilts his head. “You’d already be dead.”
Since he’s been back, it’s been obvious how different he is. Harder. Every reason I fell so easily for him has been cut off, and now all that’s left are scars and pain.
A rock forms in my throat. “What happened to you?”
He glares. “A lot.”
I could pick this argument apart and start one hundred more, but truthfully, they can all wait.
Every single one of them—except the one that has Camille in it.
My tone stays level. “Camille. What is her play in this, hmm? Why is she even here?”
All amusement vanishes from his face, leaving a bored expression.
“Are you done with the jealousy thing?” He releases me. As soon as his hands aren’t touching me I hate it.
Despite wanting to throw mine at him.
“This isn’t about Camille, but to hopefully save her from meeting the wrath of the Bride of Death and becoming yet another tale they use to scare children with, I’ll put you out of your misery.”
He moves in again, the weight of it crawling up my spine. “Camille doesn’t exist to me whenever you’re in a room.”
I turn my back to him, clutching the sides of the basin. I can’t hear this.
He kisses a trail of fire up my neck. “No one exists to me when you’re in a room.”
Deep breaths.
His chest fills the space at my back, forcing my fingers tighter around the basin.
My eyes find his in the mirror. God, he’s huge. He’d put on bulk since I’d last seen him in Veilarath.
“You keep asking the same questions.” He tilts his head to study me. “Because you’re not paying close enough attention.”
His palm finds the open slit between my jeans and my crop, and in some weak attempt of regaining any kind of control, I try to yank them away. It’s useless because for one, I don’t really want him to, and for two, he’s fucking strong.
He slips his pinky beneath my jeans and my eyes close, rage building with nowhere to go.
“Open your eyes, Venom,” he whispers over my shoulder blade. “Did you miss me?”
His fingers dip beneath the lace, one skimming my swollen clit.
My legs give out, but he bucks his hips forward to hold me up.
He continues. “Wanna apologize for trying to kill me?”
I clear my throat when his thumb starts a slow circle. “I’m—“
He bites my shoulder. “And mean it.”
The weight of his thumb intensifies, and I rock against him without thinking. “—sorry.”
“Good girl.” He kisses the top of my spine, removing his hand. “Ground rules moving forward. One? Don’t fuck my brother, Two? Don’t fucking blow it or I have to move to other measures, and three? Do what you do every time you take a job.”