Page 80 of My Dark Divine
She opens her mouth to respond, but just then, the door swings wide open, startling us both. I turn my head to see her best friend, Grace, along with some random guy with his arm draped around her shoulders.
Grace laughs nervously upon spotting us. “Did we interrupt something?” she asks, a drunken smile plastered on her face.
“No, not really,” Venetia replies, and I look at her, silently questioning what the fuck that answer means. Of course, she doesn’t turn to me. “What are you guys up to?”
“We were just about to watch a movie,” the random guy drawls, his eyes barely open as he pulls Grace closer and tightenshis hold on her. “Did you know there’s a full-on home theater in this place?”
After a moment, Venetia turns to me, and our eyes meet. “No, not really,” she says, her tone awkward. “What’s the movie called?”
“I’ve been waiting forever for it to hit digital,” he says, tilting his head as if to build anticipation before adding, “Midnight Massacre.”
Venetia’s brows shoot up to her hairline, and a laugh wells up in my chest, breaking free before I can stop it. It feels as though Elijah continues to haunt us, even in death.
“That’s the dumbest fucking title I’ve ever heard,” I say, unable to wipe the stupid grin off my face. Venetia bows her head, clearly uncomfortable, yet she stays quiet. “We’re not watching this shit. Just leave us alone.”
The guy groans, throwing his head back in frustration and almost losing his balance, but Grace catches him just in time. “Well, the rooms are all busy. We can do a group session with you both,” he mumbles, pointing at Venetia and then at me. “What do y’all think?”
A surge of anger jolts me upright as I sprint toward the door. They have the audacity to barge in, interrupt our conversation, and then throw outthatkind of offer. “Get the fuck out of here before I decide to wipe the floor with your face,” I snap, pushing the random guy out of the room.
He stumbles, still holding onto Grace, who staggers and nearly falls, but I don’t care. I just need them to leave before things escalate. Ignoring the curses and groans from him, I slam the door shut and twist the lock.
“That was rude.” I return my focus to Venetia when she speaks, finding her standing with her hands on her hips, looking all bossy and irritating again. “What have we discussed? About your impulsiveness?”
“I never said I wanted to get rid of it.” I bridge the gap between us, my hands wrapping around her waist as I lift her up, tearing a shocked gasp from her chest. “And it seems to me like you don’t want me to get rid of it, either.”
“Put me down, you asshole!” she squeals, slapping my chest as I gently lower her onto the bed, hovering over her. “What do you want from me?”
I wish I knew the answer to that. “To talk, at first.”
“What’s there to talk about?”
“About the way I killed people for you,” I begin, and she finally stops fidgeting, her gaze locking onto mine. “The way I helped you when you were falling apart.” I thread my fingers through her hair, brushing it slowly. “Or the way I covered your ass with a blanket so you wouldn’t get cold. Or the many, many other little things that made you melt.”
She swallows hard, and I can sense her desire to run away and hide from her feelings. But she can’t. We’ve been silent for too long, and it’s time to talk.
“You manipulated me. What else is there to discuss?” Her voice carries a sharp note of defiance. “The way you list these things, sounding so proud... You planned it all to get inside my head. I know that. If you think any of it made me feel something, then you’re wrong. I still hate you, and I will never stop hating you.”
“Mhmm.” My fingers trail from her hair to her cheek, lightly grazing her flushed skin as I savor the way she tries to pull away. “Keep telling yourself that, baby girl. You know me better. I would never stoop to such cheap manipulations with you. I’m far more skilled than that, don’t you think?”
“I don’t care about your psychotic bullshit, West,” she retorts, and I almost roll my eyes at the way she says my name. It sounds better coming from her, especially when she’s all pouty and angry. “We pretend, remember? None of this is real.”
“Wedopretend,” I agree. “But there weren’t any cameras during those moments. There weren’t any cameras a few days ago when you worshiped my ugliness. And there are certainly no cameras now, as you tremble beneath me, scared of your feelings.”
She falls silent, her eyes shooting daggers at me. Having her like this—vulnerable and exposed beneath me—stirs something deep inside. My lips gravitate toward her neck, trailing kisses across her skin, feeding off her reaction as she tenses, her hands running through my hair.
“You are,” she trails off as I move lower, kissing down to the open cleavage of her sweater, “delusional.”
My hand unzips her jeans and slips inside, fingers finding her soaked panties. “And you’re all wet because of how delusional I am,” I taunt, grinning against her chest before sliding her jeans off.
Her breathing quickens as I take my time, my gaze drifting to the wet spot darkening her light panties—a sight that brings me more pleasure than it should. Leaning closer, I sink my teeth into the fabric and slowly drag it down her legs. She releases a breathy sigh, slightly arching her back, trusting me with the process.
Once her panties hit the floor, I take in the view of her, my mouth watering at the perfect picture before me. She’s so warm and ready, and I can’t help but wonder how a man like me deserves any of this.
I turn my attention back to her eyes and spit on my fingers, preparing to sink them inside her. But she pulls her legs up, blocking my access, and sits up. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Confused, I glance between my wet fingers and her eyes. “Preparing you,” I reply, feeling like an idiot. Who interprets it this way?
She leans in so close that I can feel her warm breath on my lips. “This is how you treat yourwhores,” she says, her voice dripping with disgust. She still doesn’t believe I wasn’t sleeping with every woman who clung to me, and I’d be lying if I said her jealousy doesn’t turn me on. “I don’t want it this way.”
