Page 268 of Craving Venom
“I already gave that up when I let you touch me.”
He exhales once and he pulls me into his lap. His arms cage around me as if he doesn’t trust himself not to crush me, but he doesn’t look at me. Instead, he focuses on a single strand of my hair, twirling it between his fingers. His gaze stays fixed on that tiny thread of gold.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” My hand curls around the back of his neck. “Aren’t you supposed to be the big bad Nighthawk?”
His lips twitch, but the smile doesn’t come. He lets the strand fall and finally looks at me.
“Because I know what that room is, Faith,” he says, the words dragging from somewhere deep. “I know what happens behind that door. And I’ve made peace with what I have to become to walk into it. And if they so much as look at you wrong, I won’t be able to be “The Nighthawk”. I won’t make it to the kill. I’ll blow the entire thing just to get you out. You make me reckless. That’s why you can’t come. Because I can’t protect you and do what I need to do. And if I have to choose between saving you and ending them—I’ll choose you. Every fucking time.”
I hear what he’s saying, but it doesn’t land the way he thinks it will. Because all I hear, all I feel, is the depth of his fear. Not the fear of failing. Not the fear of dying. But fear of me—of what I do to him, what he sees in me that makes him weaker, more vulnerable, more human.
And that scares me more than anything.
Because for a second, it’s not about them. It’s not about the Circle or Corrine or whatever darkness lies behind that door.
It’s about us.
And it’s the first time I’ve realized there even is an “us.” Something tangled, toxic, unavoidable. But I can’t let it stop me. Because what I want, what I need to know, is bigger than either of us.
My hands shake as I reach up and pull his face into my palms.
“Ineedto come with you.” I press my forehead to his, and I say it. “Not because I’m brave. Not because I’m strong. But because if I don’t... I’ll never stop wondering if I let someone else take my place.”
“You’ll be with me at all times,” he says.
“I promise.”
We stare at each other. My chest rises, his falls. The air between us thins until I feel the weight of his stare like a hand wrapped around my throat.
I bite my bottom lip. Wet it. I don’t know if I’m inviting him or if I just need him, but I bring my mouth forward, a kiss already blooming on the tip of my tongue.
Before I can press my lips to his, the door slams open.
“Faith!”
I jolt.
Zane doesn’t move.
But my body scrambles.
I yank away from him as if I’ve been caught doing something illegal. My thigh slams into the side of the bed frame as I tumble back. I grab the sheet and pull, covering myself.
Tria stands in the doorway with panic written across her face. Her eyes swing wildly around the room before locking on Zane.
Zane?
Zane smirks.
Fucking asshole.
He doesn’t look embarrassed. Doesn’t move. He just leans back on his palms. The tattoos across his stomach stretch and shift with every breath. The mask sits open on the floor by his boot. His coffee mug’s still on the nightstand like this is all perfectly fucking normal.
Tria’s mouth opens. Closes. Then opens again.
“Wh—what the fuck is going on?” she gasps.
