Page 289 of Craving Venom
I wish I didn’t have to. I wish I could believe he was telling the truth. I wish the monster under my skin wasn’t whispering that he’s too dangerous to love and too damaged to save.
But I can’t wish away Alex’s blood.
And if Zane can kill someone like him…
Then no matter how much my heart breaks at the thought of letting him go, I can’t let him walk away free.
Zane lifts his foot off the waiter’s face with a final twist of disgust, and the man collapses. I stay frozen on his lap, too wired to move, too hollow to breathe right until a man steps onto the stage.
He’s draped in a thick black cloak that brushes the ground with every step. His mask is pitch black that covers only his dead eyes. He raises one gloved hand, and just like that, the room silences.
“Welcome, Masters.”
He steps forward, dragging one gloved hand along the edge of the podium next to him. “It’s an honor to host you again for the Four-Year Offering. You’ve waited. You’ve hunted. You’ve earned this.”
He paces across the stage, his cloak dragging behind him.
“This girl before you has been selected, trained, and prepared to meet your preferences. Whether that’s obedience, fear, pain… or purity.”
He stops at center stage and lifts his chin.
“Remember the rules. There are none. May your bids be brutal and your appetites be worse.”
“Will she convulse if we fuck her while she seizes?”
“Can I split her open and fuck the wound before she dies?”
“Can we skin her breasts now? I want to taste the scream in her throat.”
“Will she still cry if we blind her before it starts?”
“Is her pussy tighter if we dislocate her hips first?”
“Can I sew her lips shut after I use her mouth?”
“How much to keep her half-alive and breeding for a year?”
“Does she have a sister? I’ll pay double to make them watch each other die.”
“Is there a clause if I want to fuck her corpse?”
They don’t leave room for breath or mercy. Their words pile up, soaked in the filth of blood and hard-on desperation.
I look at Corrine and she looks straight at me.
There’s no begging in her eyes. No tears.
Just silent, quiet terror. The kind that’s gone past breaking. The kind that knows she won’t survive and still dares to look someone in the face anyway.
And it shatters something deep. My chest caves in around it. I want to scream. I want to run onto that stage and rip the IV tubes off her and press her into my arms until she forgets this place ever existed. I want to tell her she’s not alone.
That we’re getting her out.
That I’m sorry.
That someone still sees her as human.
Zane’s hand twitches at my hip. His fingers shake.
