Page 116 of Venomous Desires

Bunching the sheets, I pushed myself off the bed.

But as I turned around, a scream ripped from my throat.

My eyes locked onto his, and the breath caught in my lungs. He was there, watching me, sitting on the edge of the couch like he owned every part of me. The pale eyes made my blood freeze. I halted, terror rooting me to the spot as I recalled every lick, bite, kiss, and a wicked smirk curled at the corners of his lips like he was daring me to run.

Everything felt distorted, like time had twisted itself into knots.

The demon wore nothing but a pair of boxers; his broadshoulders making the couch look small in compared to his larger-than-life body. My eyes fixated on the glass of alcohol in his hand, and I swallowed hard, recalling how he forced me to drink last night. There was a storm behind his gaze, and I didn’t know how could a man look the definition of terror.

He looked dangerous. The kind of mad that doesn’t come with loud shouting or wild gestures but with a quiet, suffocating force. The kind that stripped away my defences and left me bare, exposed, with nowhere to hide.

My eyes darted around the room, searching for something, anything, but all I saw were the remnants of the night—my torn clothes scattered across the floor. My throat tightened, and I felt a desperate urge to cover myself, to reclaim even a shred of dignity. I tightened the surrounding sheets.

“Don’t.”

One word froze me in place.

My heart pounded in my chest as I slowly lifted my head to face him. His eyes made me want to disappear.

“Come closer.”

It wasn’t a request; it was an order, and I knew better than to defy him. My body moved on autopilot, driven by a survival instinct I barely recognized. I stopped a few feet away, my breath catching in my throat as his eyes raked over me, assessing, calculating.

He held out the glass he was drinking from, and the amber liquid glowed like poison. “Drink.”

I stared at it, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts, none of them coherent. The defiance was on my tongue, but I held back, knowing there was no choice, not really.

With trembling hands, I took the glass from him and brought it to my lips. The alcohol burned as it slid down my throat, harsh and unforgiving, and I almost choked on the bitterness. Tears welled up in my eyes, spilling over, but Iswallowed them down, refusing to let him see just how deeply I was breaking.

Or maybe he had already broken me?

“I…” I whispered, visibly shaking, noticing the wild glint in his eyes. “I can… go now, right?”

He tilted his head, his long fingers played with the light stubble on his chin, and I realised he had a mole under his lips. It struck me then how deceptive beauty could be. His face, with its sharp angles and shadowed dimples, was a masterpiece painted in lies. But it was just a mask.

His beauty was nothing but a mirage. Superficial. Empty.

Judas Romanovski wore darkness with pride, like a second skin. A darkness that had wrapped itself around me, suffocating, consuming, until there was nothing left but the void he’d pulled me into. That darkness was real. Tangible. I felt it seeping into my bones, staining me with the same cold cruelty that lived in his eyes.

I couldn’t look away. Couldn’t move.

He said nothing, and the more silent he was, the louder my heart raced. Shifting on my feet, I opened my mouth again, but he beat me to it.

“Who is Ivan?” The words hit me like a slap, and my breath caught in my throat. Eyes widened, and I quickly swallowed.

How did he know? Panic flared, and I fought to keep it at bay, to keep my face blank, neutral.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered, the lie tasting like ash on my tongue and I knew he sensed it too, because the next second he sighed like I’d just confirmed every terrible thing he thought about me.

Without another word, he tipped his head back and downed the rest of his drink in one go. The glass clinked against his teeth before he hurled it to the ground. It shattered into pieces.

I flinched, watching with saucer-eyes as the shards glint inthe light.

I gulped, not understanding why he suddenly wanted to know about Ivan, or why he was doing this, and turned around to meet fiery, cold eyes. That promised destruction.

“Clean it up,” he commanded.

Every single cell in my body wanted to resist, and then my eyes found his cane lying on its side, and fear gripped me. I didn’t want him to spank me again with it; I could still feel the burn and definitely didn’t want him to… penetrate me with it.