Page 102 of Beautiful Venom
“Stop moving.” His rough voice filters into my ears like a curse.
“I’m uncomfortable.”
“I don’t give a fuck. Stop trying to turn around. Stop messing everything the fuck up. Just stop.”
I turn my face away. “I hate you, asshole.”
His hand wraps around my throat and he angles my head up so that he speaks against my lips. “I fucking hate you, too, Dahlia.”
And then he kisses me senseless.
He kisses me until I think I’ll pass out.
He kisses me until I think he’ll never stop kissing me.
19
KANE
Breathe.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Relax.
Lean into the pain.
My wrists burn where the chains cut into them, my arms stretched tight above me, my own weight pulling at my shoulders.
With every involuntary tremor that runs through my body, iron digs into my flesh.
The basement I’m hanging in swallows me whole, the cold biting into my skin. The stone walls are damp, reeking of mildew and the heavy smell of rusted metal.
As for the reason why I’m here—again—it’s simple.
Tonight, we lost our away game.
The Vipers lost a clean winning streak. Against the Stanton fucking Wolves.
To say the team’s morale is in the absolute gutter would be an understatement.
This was due to a culmination of unfortunate facts.
One, I wasn’t focused, and while my body existed on the rink, my mental presence suffered greatly.
The immaculate discipline I’ve spent over fifteen years honing to perfection has chipped at the edges, small cracks appearing on the foundation.
Two, perhaps it was the lack of my assertive leadership, but the rest of the team also spiraled, struggling to hold the Wolves—especially their captain—at bay.
Osborn toyed with the team spirit and paid extra attention to Preston, checking and even falling on top of him until our left wing could barely breathe. Like a man possessed, Osborn made Preston a target and kept relentlessly going at him as if my friend was the only Vipers player on the rink. And that, in retrospect, made Jude pick more fights than usual—he’s been notoriously protective of Preston since we were kids.
Three, Preston’s usual cold-bloodedness was nowhere to be seen. He held out for the first period but eventually fell for the skirmishes and whatever Osborn whispered to him every time he knocked him down. In the third period, Preston cracked and sent Osborn flying against the boards, which shattered to pieces.
Osborn’s only reaction was an evil laugh.
That was the first time Preston deliberately resorted to violence during a game. While he’s fine with murder, he believes hockey violence is beneath him and those who rely on their muscles are peasants.
