Page 181 of Beautiful Venom
Her body becomes one with mine, her nails digging into my jacket, and it feels like she desperately doesn’t want to let go.
My lips leave hers and she smiles. “Want a poor people’s town tour? I’ll give you a discount.”
“By all means.”
Dahlia obviously forgot most of the town, and many places have changed. But she still gets excited whenever she sees a familiar shop or house.
We do have the fish she came all the way for.
We also buy a lot of fishermen’s catch, and Dahlia donates them to the local restaurants. I suppose that’s her way of honoring people who have her dad’s profession.
She doesn’t stay still for the whole day, going from one place to another like a busy bee. It’s almost as if she doesn’t want to stop and breathe.
By sunset, we’re walking back to the car, her hand in mine, when she hesitantly stops by a small bridge.
“What? Is there somewhere else you want to visit?”
Her lips pull in a small smile. “I think I saw my dad’s friend. I’ll go and say hi.”
“Fine, let’s go.”
“You just go bring the car. It won’t take long. I’ll be here.”
“All right.”
I’m about to leave, but she doesn’t release my hand, her fingers digging into the back of it.
“Kane?”
“Yeah?”
“You know how I always say I hate you?”
“What about it?”
“I don’t. Actually. I really like you.” She grins. “Like alot.”
A drop of heat expands behind my rib cage, melting away all the years my father spent attempting to turn me into ice.
A few words from Dahlia and I’m touched by warmth.
A few words and it’s like I’m transformed into a new person.
“I really like you, too. When I don’t want to strangle you.”
“What a romantic.” She smiles, but it’s sad. “I’ll be waiting. Go ahead.”
She hesitantly releases me, and it takes me about five minutes to reach the car.
After I get in, I open the glove compartment. I know I promised Dahlia no phones, but it’s been a whole day without checking in on Preston’s deteriorating state.
I pause when I don’t see Dahlia’s phone.
When did she take it?
With a frown, I power on my phone and pause at the bombardment of missed calls by Jude.
Fuck.
