Page 151 of Beautiful Venom
Show me that what we share is only ours.
I don’t know what fabric people are made of, but his and mine are identical. We revel in the hate and violence, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss his touch.
Or the liberty that comes with relinquishing my control to him.
But I didn’t go through all of this shit just to get him back.
Things have to happen on my terms.
At the last second, I turn my face, looking at the silver car parked next to his.
Kane pauses, his grip loosening a little from around my throat as if he’s been caught off guard.
I look at him again and, sure enough, a puzzled look takes refuge in his icy eyes and his brows dip. He can’t imagine me refusing a kiss, especially since I was always the one who initiated them.
Craved them.
Demanded them.
Not now, though.
My fingers wrap around his hand that’s on my throat. “Tell me you care about me first.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I know I did, but I’m not sure whether or not you’re joking.”
“I’m not. I want to hear you say you care, and that, from now on, you’ll allow me to get close. I want a true relationship, not a sex-buddies situation. You’ll take me on dates and tell me about yourself. You’ll watch movies with me and let me just chill at your place, even if there’s no sex involved.”
He pauses.
I pause, too.
That’s not what I had planned. I only wished for him to stop pushing me away, but maybe, deep down, that’s exactly what I’ve wanted this whole time.
I really hate it when he emotionally abandons me as soon as the sex is over.
It didn’t bother me in the beginning, but then it started to make me feel anxious.
“You’re out of your mind,” he says in a bewildered tone.
But he still has his hand on my throat.
He still hasn’t left, his fingers burning metaphorical holes in my skin.
“For wanting normal?” I ask.
“We’re not fuckingnormal, Dahlia.”
“I know, but sex isn’t all we have either, no matter how much you try to convince yourself that’s the case.”
His fingers tighten around my neck. I can see the conflict in his eyes—that part of him that fits perfectly with mine—wavering, flickering, but there’s also his annoying control-freak part, the one that always drags him back behind his defenses.
The part I’ve never managed to win against.
“The answer is no.” He releases my neck with a shove.
