Chapter 12 #2
His thumb presses against my racing pulse, slowly tracing my cheekbone until my nails curl into my palms.
He leans closer. “The kind you don’t come back from.” He shoves me against the basin. “You’re a fucking liar, Venom.”
“Which lie are we talking about?” I narrow my eyes, flames flickering beneath my collar. “Because if I remember right, we already settled that bill.”
He stays where he is, his body angled toward mine.
I need to be careful with my next words.
“I never lied about everything.” My chin lifts, throat exposed and I’m fucking stupid for it. “You know who I am, Asher, but you don’t know what I do.”
Stepping forward, I hold his stare, the gap between us thinning with each inch. “Why haven’t you asked why I did it?”
My voice drops. “You came to La Journée du...”
His palm slams over my mouth before I finish, his arm rigid.
He is not about to silence me.
I whack him out of the way, squaring my shoulders. “You never asked why Parker? Why he was a job that took so long to complete? Or how about this? How did you know him?”
Nothing I say shocks him as he keeps his expression flat.
“Jesus,” I whisper, mourning the boy I once knew. The one who laughed. The one who broke through every foundation I ever had and set up there like he was the architect of my soul.
He blinks. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I snap, annoyed at everything.
Jesus Christ he’s perfection. That mouth should be illegal. Dark lashes throw shadows over eyes like cracked ice, and those cheekbones…
His tongue swipes his lower lip. “Like you don’t enjoy how it feels to be fucking hunted for once.”
My skin prickles.
He doesn’t stop. “Like you didn’t want me to chase you all the way to that cute little safehouse in the Cayos.”
Every argument we’ve hurled at each other, every bitter word, every accusation. It all collapses into this single moment, and I hate him.
I want to destroy him.
I want to crawl inside his skin and never leave.
He tilts his head. “Come here.”
The ground drops from under me. Two words and I’m done for.
I don’t move, so he threads his fingers through mine.
Warmth floods through me, all the way down to my toes.
I should push him off, push all of this away, but guilt keeps me locked in place.
Brushing my hair back, he cups my chin and lifts my face to his. Then his mouth crashes onto mine.
His tongue traces the seam of my lips and I open for him without thinking. He tastes like rage and want and every fucking thing. The kiss deepens until everything else goes quiet, until my fingers claw at his shirt just to stay upright.
He buries his hand in my hair, fisting it tight enough to make my eyes water. Wrenching my head back with a tug, he tears himself away, both of us gasping, his forehead dropping against mine.
“Fuck.” He drags his teeth across my bottom lip, the gesture so gentle I gasp. Whatever words he’s searching for scatter between us.
Dazed and drunk, the room spins around me. “What are you doing?”
“I need you to pay attention to my next words.” His lips skim mine, soft, familiar… mine. Shit. No, not mine. He lied. He dragged someone away…
“And if I tell you to go fuck yourself?” I pant, my mouth still burning with the aftertaste of him.
His grip tightens, holding me in place. “Then I’d tell you to come do it yourself.”
My complaints die when the hard ridge of his cock swells against me.
I drag my bottom lip into my mouth. “I’m better at fucking you than I am at shooting you, clearly.”
Something flickers across his face before he clears his thoughts. “You need to follow my lead.”
Everything in me pulls taut. What does he mean follow his lead?
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.”
His eyes stay on mine. “Play house.”
What. The fuck. Have I gotten myself into?