Beautiful Venom: A Dark Hockey Romance (Vipers Book 1)

My vision is red.

My vision is never red.

Ever since Jude called and told me he witnessed suspicious activity in the parking lot, my mood has taken a sharp dive.

After the game, I was already driving up the Hill for a meeting with Grant’s closest directors in the company. I’ve mastered pretending to do my bidding in the business I’ll inherit, but in reality, this is a way to build my connections and strip my father of his stronghold.

After Jude’s call, I made a U-turn and barely offered excuses for my absence from the meeting I spent weeks arranging.

It doesn’t matter that earlier tonight, I had this illogical need to strangle Dahlia because she was flirting with her fucking ex at my game.

While wearing my jersey.

With my name on her back.

That perplexing fire still burns my lungs, but it’s drowned out by the rage that clouds my vision with a crimson haze.

I’m about to break every bone in the bodies of the motherfuckers who had the audacity to touch what’s mine.

And I don’t resort to violence. I don’t even like violence.

In fact, I consider violent people—aside from Jude—weaklings with little to no brain capacity.

Yet the need to smash the two bastards’ heads in beats beneath my skin like a need.

An urge.

This is beginning to feel too much like an impulse.

“I’ll finish the job.” Jude throws the wailing scum on the floor as if he were excess baggage, then motions behind me. “She’s out.”

My gaze flickers toward her, and for the first time tonight, the red slowly retreats as Dahlia comes into focus.

Her skin is flushed, her cheeks a shade too deep, heat radiating from her in waves, and I can feel it even from across the room.

The rise and fall of her chest produces shallow, uneven breaths.

She looks small—too small—crumpled in on herself, her tangled brown hair sticking to her damp skin.

There’s a slight tremble in her fingers curling weakly on the bottom of the jersey, pulling it down to cover her upper thighs. It’s the only movement she makes.

The rest of her…still.

A sickening unknown emotion bubbles up in my throat, but I swallow it down as I close the distance.

The heat in the room intensifies and that’s when it hits me. Her skin burning, probably her body’s reaction to what they injected into her. My left index finger twitches—the urge to destroy something, someone, barely held at bay.

I kneel by the bed, and my fingertips graze the bare skin of her arm.

Just like that, her warmth sears into me.

Hot. Too hot.

And it’s not the right type of heat.

I clench my jaw as I slip my arms under her, lifting her effortlessly. Her head lolls against my chest and her body falls into me as if her place has always been here.

In my arms.

What a ridiculous thought.

And yet…

Her soft breaths land against my neck, shallow and too quiet.

Dahlia has never been quiet, so this is strange, to say the least.

The faint smell of jasmine rips through my nostrils, filling me with her scent. Her skin is damp, flushed, burning up beneath my touch. I hold her tighter, watching the way she folds into me, her weight fragile in my arms.

They tried to break her. To touch what’s fucking mine.

The more her body curls into me, desperate for something solid, something safe, the hotter the fire inside me ignites.

Her fingers twitch against my chest, seeking an anchor. And the fact that she thinks of me as one—me—breaks through the fury muddying my head.

Dahlia is strong. Stronger than she knows. But at seeing her like this—broken, trembling, clinging to me for dear life—an unfamiliar feeling rushes through me.

An ache.

An urge to protect her in a way I’ve never protected anyone.

And that’s dangerous.noveldrama

No. It’s lethal.

Because not only will it affect my plans, but it’ll also knock her off the chessboard as a useless pawn.

I should be cold, pull away, and maintain that distance I’ve carefully crafted between us.

Maybe call someone. Let them be the one to offer help while I retreat to the shadows.

But I’m locked in place.

Unable to ignore her soft, quivering body pressed into me, her heat like a brand.

I grit my teeth as I hold her tighter, hardening my jaw at the feel of her frantic heartbeat fluttering against me.

I convince myself that the way my fingers are digging into her thighs and arms means nothing.

It’s only to keep her from falling apart.

To later shove her back into the neat box I’ve created for her.

As I carry her out, Jude steps in front of me, his massive body blocking the door.

His face is set in hard lines, his eyes devoid of warmth.

It’s no secret that he would rather not be here cleaning up after some lower-class Vencor members and wasting his time.

“You know what to do, Jude. Make them spit out what their plan was. I’ll deal with Isabella afterward.”

“I didn’t even tell you it was her car I saw in the parking lot.” He raises a brow. “How did you figure it out?”

“It’s clear as day that she wasn’t happy about my recent involvement with Dahlia. Since she can’t touch me, she’d redirect her fury to the weaker party. A terrible miscalculation on her part.”

“What do you plan to do to her?”

“Get her kicked out of Vencor. With your and Preston’s votes, we can discharge a member. If she still insists on being a headache, I’ll have her buried six feet under.”

“Let’s say I go with the vote, why would Pres?”

“He will once I tell him Isabella had her goons use his name as the fall guy. You know he hates messy things if he’s not the cause.”

“I’ll consider it.” He stands taller, a flash of sadism sparkling in his eyes. “You owe me for today.”

“I do.”

“I expect an extra name in my inbox tonight.”

I nod.

Of course Jude would cash in immediately. He greatly lacks the skill of gathering intel and saving it for later. Though by having those names, he’s loosening himself further from my grip.

But it doesn’t matter. For now.

Jude still needs me to reach his goal, and, therefore, I can still control him.

Instead of stepping away, he glares at Dahlia, sparks nearly flying from his eyes.

I fix him with a stony look. “Is there a problem?”

“Why the fuck is it her? Of all people?”

“She’s just a pawn.”

He bursts out laughing, the sound long and cruel. “The almighty Davenport lost his cool for a pawn? Try to fool a lesser person.”

“Some pawns deserve extra care.”

“Well, in that case, better take extra care that she doesn’t mess with my fucking business.”

“Noted.” I motion at the door. “Will you move now?”

After one last ambiguous look at Dahlia, he steps aside and gathers the piece of fucking shit by his collar.

As I walk out, Jude’s voice carries from behind my back. “I mean it, Davenport. She puts her nose where it doesn’t belong and she’ll see her maker sooner rather than later. All bets will be off.”

I tilt my head in his direction and flash him a smile. “Won’t be happening. As long as you keep your fucking stalkerish tendencies in check, we’re all good.”

By the time I arrived at my penthouse downtown, Dahlia was burning up.

I placed her on the sofa in the living room earlier. Since then, I’ve been standing cross-armed by the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the town’s luminous skyline.

What the fuck am I supposed to do?

I’ve never taken care of someone else before. Except for Preston when he goes off the rails, and even then, I usually let Jude handle him while I manage the fallout.

If Dahlia’s fever doesn’t come down, I’ll take her to the ER.

I suppose.

A whimper rips from her lips and she thrashes, her movements making the leather sofa creak beneath her. She curls her fingers, stretching and pulling at the jersey. It rides up, revealing her white panties and stomach.

Even under the soft light, the contrast of the white jersey is striking against her tanned skin.

My dick twitches to life and I tear my gaze from her to look out the window.

Her throaty moans echo in the air, silky and fucking erotic.

Apparently, the concept of keeping myself in check escapes me when this girl is around, because I tilt my head in her direction again.

Dahlia has slipped her right hand into her panties, touching herself in a frantic, uncoordinated motion.

The scent of her wafts in the air as she releases a sound that’s a mixture of a moan and a whine. Her left hand gropes and strokes her tits beneath the shirt.

Jesus fucking Christ.

I stride toward her and clutch her hand that’s in her pussy and yank it out.

Big mistake. Because, now, not only does the room smell like her sweet pussy, but it’s also the only thing I can breathe.

“Dahlia, wake up.”

“Mmm.”

“Dahlia, open your fucking eyes.”

“P-please…please…”

God fucking damn it.

I adjust myself, but it does nothing to deflate the bulge in my pants.

My knuckles brush her warm cheek as I tap. “Begging will get you fucked, wildflower.”

Her eyes blink open, slightly glazed over, the color more brown than green, sparkling as she studies my face.

“Kane…”

My name falls out of her mouth in a soft moan and I close my eyes.

Down.

Stay fucking down.

“Kane…” she moans again, softer, needier. “I’m warm.”

I open my eyes and start to pull my hand away. “Do you want to take a shower?”

“No… It’s uncomfortable. Mmm.” She grabs my hand with both her smaller ones and presses it on her soaking wet panties. “Touch me. Make it go away.”

Fucking hell.

Who knew that the ever-proud Dahlia Thorne, a literal thorn in my side, has this needy, seductive side to her?

“Want me to touch you here?” I lazily stroke her over the damp fabric and she throws her head back, her skin flushed, forehead sweaty.

“Yes, yes! More.”

My fingers slip beneath her panties, and I circle her clit. Her thighs tremble and a shiver rips through her.

She’s like a marionette in my hands, reacting to my merest touch.

Dahlia’s moans turn deeper, more desperate. “Yes…there…right there.”

“Here?” I slow down on purpose.

She grabs onto my wrist. “Faster…more…”

“Do you want me to fuck you, Dahlia? Want my cock to sink into that tiny cunt of yours and relieve the ache?”

“Yes…yes…it’s warm…make it stop…”

“You’ll take my cock so well, won’t you? Even if it’s big, you’ll be gasping to take more.”

“Yes…anything…yes.”

“You’ll be swallowing every inch like a very good girl and let me use you to get off?”

Her back arches as I thrust two of my fingers inside her.

Unintelligible noises of pleasure reverberate in the room, mounting and intensifying like a crescendo.

The air becomes stifled with her scent, dizzying and absolutely addictive.

No matter how much I’ve tried to deny it and how many times I’ve shoved myself back into that control box, ever since that first time, I’ve been fantasizing about fucking her again.

Owning her again.

Claiming her once and for all.

“You can barely fit my fingers, wildflower. How will you take my cock?”

“Mmm…I will. Promise.”

“Beg me to fuck you. To use you however I see fit.” I pump my hand forward and add another finger, thrusting into her at a steady rhythm.

Drawing every shudder and tremor and choked-up moan.

“P-please,” she says through a gasp.

Her body jerks and I reach my left hand beneath the shirt, grab her tit underneath the bra, and then slap the hardened nipple. “Say the whole sentence properly.”

She yelps, the sound coming out with a fractured moan. Her eyes are half open, dripping in yellow.

Gold.

“Please, Kane…please fuck me.”

My rhythm increases, pounding her in deep as if my cock were inside her. As if I were claiming her again.

Her pussy stretches around me and I circle her clit with my thumb.

She soon clamps around me, her breath hitching as she throws her head back.

“That’s it. Come for me, baby.”

As she jerks, I release her breast, reach into my pants, and free my cock. My fingers fuck her cunt while my left hand jerks my own heavy cock.

Up and down in a rough, frenzied movement.

Precum glistens from the tip and the veins bulge with need.

This isn’t about my pleasure. This is a punishment for losing control and wanting her.

Again.

“Say my name,” I strain as I strangle my cock.

“Kane…” She glances down at where I’m twisting and jerking, her lips parting, and she swallows thickly. “Please fuck me.”

“Jesus. Fuck.” I pull my fingers from inside her, shove the jersey up, and then snap open her bra.

I groan as my cum decorates her tits, covering her hard nipples and dripping down to her belly button.

She watches me the entire time, her mouth open, her face red.

I gather my cum from her stomach and place my coated fingers in front of her mouth. “Suck them clean.”

Dahlia slips my fingers inside and sucks on them, her wet tongue licking me softly.

While looking at me with those glittering yellow eyes.

Soon enough, her lids lower and she falls asleep with a soft sigh.

With my fingers in her mouth and my fucking sanity in her hands.

Every time I touch her, I lose all sense of reality and myself.

For a moment, just a moment in time, I forget who I am, what I exist for, and what I aim to do.

For just that moment, it’s only her.

And I’m not sure if it can be fixed at this point.

Or whether or not I’m willing to do so.