Page 43 of Sweet Touch of Venom
Now look at me. Pathetic.
Honestly, for a minute, I almost forgot she was here. It’s been so long since I have had company in my own home, let alone live with someone. However, the silence is sickening, borderline lethal, and the tension’s thick enough to choke someone.
I take a glance at the stuff in her bag. “What is that?”
Without glancing at me, she shuts off the water. “Weed.”
My brows furrow, shooting my eyes at her in questioning. “What?”
“I’m kidding. It’s herbs for tea.” She faces me, wiggling the bag in my view with an amused expression on her pretty face.
I toss a dry look, trailing her every move like a robot as she walks to the microwave and places it in her cup. “What are they for?” I slice my sight downward, relishing in the sight of her ass jiggling when she shuts the microwave door.
I notice her body stiffen before she twists back around to the counter, and my gaze roams back up nonchalantly. She takes the spoon, not catching my precarious eyes, and begins scooping the ‘herbs.’ “They help me?…?sleep.”
Interesting. She has a hard time sleeping through the night. I wonder what she dreams of. Are her nightmares similar to mine? Paralyzing her mind with nothing but stained blood and dirty bodies? I see I’m not the only one that has restless nights.
I continue observing as she dips the bag into the cup, lifting it up and down.
“You already broke one rule,” she says blandly, shifting to me with her creepy ass cup up at her lips.
She doesn’t know that I really don’t give a shit about her ‘rules.’ I only agreed out of respect for her. “I can only do so much. But to avoid speaking to you in my own home is like asking me not to breathe. We’re human.” And I would rather not feel uncomfortable, either.
Her ghostly stare pierces into my face, watching me for a second too long. She takes another sip and says, “Then stop breathing.” With that, she strolls off, taking her things with her, including the subtle warmth she gave when she was here.
Take care of her, he says.
Chapter 16
Ronan
Lurk in the night play, play, play
Bedford spins in his large seat, facing me, Anita, Mal, and Boone. “Looks like things just got a lot shittier.”
I huff, a dark shadow crossing over me, and my heart thumps against my chest. I hate the sound of that, like everything is on the verge of going haywire. The thought of destroying an army full of kidnappers and rapists brings a pulse to my polluted blood.
“They’ve caught word of murders from their men and called every member from their gang to eradicate the people or person.” He zooms his eyes to me. “And of course, once they found out Henley was MIA. They know.”
“How large,” Boone interrupts, making Anita’s eyes widen and brows raise.
“He talks.” I catch a glimmer in her eyes, which often happens with people who hear him speak; it’s rough with a Manchester accent.
“You should talk more.” I catch a tiny lift in her lips before her gaze falls on mine and the smile drops in rancid disgust, and she looks away. The girl really hates me.
Good.
No. Notgood.I thought we were making some progress last night. Evenifshe practically told me to die. I liked that because she still spoke to me.
I don’t miss the sting of jealousy poking at the root of my stomach from the mere interaction between them. The almost genuine smile she gave him but can’t even bother to look at me graciously? Am I not the one allowing her to be here? It sears something hot into my chest. I stuff my childish boy banter in the back of my mind.
There are more important matters at hand.
Boone's’ expression doesn’t change at all. It’s the same hard and blank stare because nothing phases the man.
“And you should talk less.” Mal snarls, sitting on top of the desk behind us.
“Fuck,” I mutter.Iwant to grip my head in my hand and let out a roaring growl. This shit is getting old and tiring. We have bigger fish to fry. But instead, I place my hands on my hips and just let them duke the shit out, or maybe I should even put them in the ring and actually fight.
