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

I’m coming up empty.

Despite my attempts to dig into the Vipers’ medical records and find any suspicious absences close to the date of Vi’s attack, they’re so neat and tidy, it’s impossible to find any discrepancies.

In the span of the week since I started this job, I’ve managed to gather DNA evidence from most players, including Preston, and they all came out negative.

I’m back to square one again.

I thought maybe I could gather some clues about Vi’s attack, but it’s proving impossible.

Even if I get invited to Vencor’s parties, what am I supposed to do under so much surveillance?

Out myself and possibly get killed before I discover anything, that’s what.

As I sit in my small office in Vipers Arena, I flip through the backlog files in a last attempt to find anything out of the ordinary.

My ass hurts and I shift in my chair. A groan slips out of me as my muscles scream in pain.

That asshole Kane really meant it about my inability to walk. I can’t even sit without feeling every inch of him inside me.

Since that time he ambushed me in his apartment, he’s been asking me to meet him every single day. Sometimes, at his place, and other times, in secluded forests.

And let me tell you, that man is a fucking animal. I don’t know where he gets the stamina or how he comes up with new ways to make me scream.

It’s like a rollercoaster ride with no ending in sight.

He always chases me first, and when he catches me, he fucks me on all sorts of surfaces—the floor, the stairs, against a tree, in the bathtub.

Everywhere.

Every time I think I’ve figured out his pattern and come up with a plan to escape or hide, he always finds me. No exceptions.

It’s a thrill. A high I think I’ll never come down from.

I’m an addict who can’t quit.

It’s impossible to even think about abandoning the hit he injects in my veins with every encounter.

Whenever he sets up a meeting, I get a tingly feeling in my spine. A need for more.

More.

So much more.

Hell, I believe I’ve been conditioned so deeply, I wouldn’t consider any other form of sex enjoyable anymore.

I’m surprised I even opened my legs for mediocre experiences in the past.

Kane is right. Normal sex bored me to tears. Before him, I thought it was expected not to completely enjoy sex, and those mind-numbing orgasms were the stuff of novels.

I never thought that being hate-fucked to within an inch of my life was the answer.

With a groan, I hit my head on the table. I’m so sick.

And so is he.

But somehow, it works.

I love sex again. I dream of him fucking me and wake up with my hand in my wet pussy.

The violence, the chase, the aggression, and even the name-calling turns me on.

His whole presence turns me on.

Pretty sure I’ve become a sex addict, even if my body barely keeps up with our brutal, bruise-inducing toxic-as-fuck sex.

The whole thing is toxic, really.

Kane is adamant about the ‘using each other’ part and refuses to budge. That man doesn’t have a gentle bone in his body. Whenever I try to stroke his skin or hug him, he stiffens as if I plunged my hand into his chest and ripped out his heart or something.

He also always gets mad and shuts down, so I’ve stopped doing it.

I hate the lack of connection, but it’s better than having him snap or completely withdraw behind his high walls.

At least when I pretend to be fine with the relationship as it is, he drives me back to his place and offers me baths. He even cooks me food and sends me so many clothes that Megan is getting suspicious.

So I had to tell her it’s a sex-only relationship and that the rich love flaunting their money.

But this thing with Kane is highly dysfunctional outside of the sex. My imaginary therapist would point out that even the sex is dysfunctional as fuck, but we both enjoy that, so it doesn’t count.

I tried being gradual in forming a connection. But he shuts me out so fast, it’s a struggle to talk to him.

If I so much as ask about his life, try to get closer, or touch him softly, he completely abandons me.

The way he switches from cordial to an absolute asshole is starting to mess with my head.

I know I’m losing myself to this toxic cycle, but I’m actually scared of seeing his back.

I hate his back.

I hate how easily he could turn around and walk away as if I don’t exist.

But then again, we’re not in a relationship, and he made it clear that what we have revolves around sex only, and I agreed, so I shouldn’t feel this way.

Besides, Megan was right. I shouldn’t hope for anything more from a Davenport. He’s using me? Well, I’m also using him to have access to the secret world he comes from.

If he’s not much help, it doesn’t matter. Because his mom invited me for tea three days ago when she dropped some pastries off at his apartment—that he refused to accept—so I’ll make sure to go.

My fingers pause on a handwritten log that was kept by a previous medical assistant who used to watch the players’ diets.

It’s not because of the notes per se, but the date. September 20.

That’s when Violet was attacked.

I read the notes, but they’re normal, about the players’ diets, the injuries, and the prescribed supplements.

Then my eyes widen when I find a small note at the bottom of the page.

Note: Hunter Maddox, Gavin Drayton, and Ryder Price missed practice for unknown injuries.

Unknown injuries.

My mind races as I flip to the following days. The three players aren’t mentioned again until September 23 when they resume practice. No injuries are logged, and they get back to it with no rehabilitation programs or dietary changes.

This isn’t a coincidence, right?

Gavin’s and Ryder’s DNA came out as a negative match. Hunter’s is the only one I haven’t had the opportunity to gather. Probably because he’s a neat freak and always wipes all his equipment down before and after use. He also tucks all his belongings in his locker and is particular about who touches his things.

Gavin is the goalie. Ryder and Hunter are defensemen. They usually hang out together, and their parents are influential in the town.

My mind pieces together the details from the event at Preston’s house. The three masked Vencor members I listened to that night were Gavin and Ryder. The third was definitely Hunter.

Maybe I’m onto something.

My skin tingles with anticipation. Finally, a breakthrough.

Though it’s not as good as finding the mastermind behind my sister’s attack, this is a start.

My priority is to try accessing the team doctor’s files from September 20.

Gather a sample of Hunter’s DNA.

Maybe get closer to the three of them? Gavin kind of hates me after the fiasco at his place that time. And if the rumors about his sister’s banishment and social suicide are true, I don’t suspect he’ll ever warm up to me. I don’t think I’ve seen Isabella on campus since the day she sent people to drug me.

The other two pretend I don’t exist.

Actually, most players do the same except for Preston, who loves to harass me every time he sees me, and Jude, who glares at me for no reason. I’m starting to think that’s his default mood.

Twirling my pen, I’m considering ways to acquire Hunter’s DNA sample when my phone vibrates.

I startle, kicking my thighs against the table, and I drop my pen.

Kane

See you tonight at my place.

I narrow my eyes. Maybe it’s because I’m sick and tired of his entitlement, but I type:

Me

No, thanks.

?

???

Are you being sarcastic?

Idk, will you try to communicate better?

What does ‘No, thanks’ mean, Dahlia?

It means no and thanks. Have you lost the ability to read?

What the fuck are you playing at now?

I’m not playing. I just need time off. You know, so I can recover properly and mentally prepare myself for your asshole behavior after you blow your load.

Since when do you care how I treat you after?

Since now. It’s one thing to degrade and humiliate me during sex, but afterward is different. I don’t like the cold shoulder and the clipped communication. I’m not your booty call.

That’s exactly what you are. And I won’t give you the cold shoulder when you know your place and stop being nosy.

I bite my lower lip. He’s right. Kane never promised me anything but sex. I don’t even know why I’m being this butthurt about it.

He means nothing.

In reality, I hate him and where the hell he came from.

You’re just another dick who’s fairly decent at fucking, so I’m glad we’re on the same page.

Decent? Is that what it’s called when you shatter on my cock multiple times a night?

I said what I said. Anyway, I still don’t want to see your face for, like, three days. It’s tiresome.

Don’t make me act uncivil.

Isn’t that your default setting?

Be there tonight.

Only if you won’t fuck me and we watch a movie or something like normal people.

We’re not normal people.

I leave him on Read.

Don’t you dare fucking leave me on Read.

Read.

Dahlia…

Read.

He’s not the only one who can play the detached game. I don’t even like the asshole.

Not one bit.

As I’m leaving the office, the players are filtering out of the locker room.

Hunter and Gavin are clad in Vipers hoodies, with duffel bags slung across their bodies, and speaking in a hushed tone. I try to get closer to overhear what they’re talking about.

A large body blocks my path. “Look who we have here. Daisy.”

Preston smiles down at me, his eyes a bright green.

Great.

I swear he only does this for pure entertainment.

“It’s Dahlia. Seriously, how many D names will you say except for my actual one?”

“As many as it takes.” He stands closer, trapping me against the wall.

“As many as it takes for what?”

“Don’t you worry about that. Tell me, what did you say to Kane that provoked his teenage girl moment that ended with slamming the locker shut? While everyone was having a good time joking around? Instant mood killer. You’re such a drag. Anyone ever tell you that?”

I narrow my eyes.

Preston is really hard to read.

Sometimes, he’s threatening and calling names, and other times, he’s joking around. I’m not sure whether or not he’s diagnosed, but he gives off major ASPD vibes. He gets off on humiliating others and he often does it in a very backhanded way.noveldrama

He’s the master at ruffling his opponent’s feathers and always gets out of it unscathed. Except with Marcus. Now, that bastard is definitely diagnosed.

One thing I’ve learned is that being weak or lying down and taking it—or worse, avoiding conflict—feeds their sadistic energy.

And I’m also in the mood to pick a fight.

So I grin. “Aren’t you the drag? You know, because your uselessness caused the Vipers to lose for the first time this season.”

His smile remains the same, but the glint slowly dims. “Is that so?”

“Uh-huh. Everyone watched as Marcus wrapped you around his pinkie finger and dragged you through the rink like deadweight.” I match his smile. “As I said, useless.”

I realize I’ve overdone it when it’s too late.

Preston reaches an open hand out and wraps it entirely around my face, his fingers digging into my skull as if he’ll break it.

Fear locks my limbs and I don’t dare breathe.

“You need to learn how to shut the fuck up.” His voice is creepily cold, completely different from his usual devil-may-care attitude. “You and that dirtbag Osborn are nothing more than bugs. You might buzz a little, might even sting and be a general nuisance, but make no mistake, I can squash you whenever I wish. I will end your miserable, annoying lives as I see fit.”

Pressure grows in my head and I think he’ll make good on his promise.

He’ll kill me.

I feel it in my bones—he’ll snap my neck and walk away as if nothing happened.

Then he’ll get away with it because he was born into the right family and I’m a nobody.

His hand disappears.

My lips part and I blink away the moisture that’s gathered in my eyes as Kane appears in front of me.

He’s tall. Taller than usual. As he partially obstructs my view, I only see his back, broad and wide, blocking Preston’s face.

And for the first time, I don’t loathe the view of his back.

“Walk away,” he says calmly.

“I was in the middle of something, Davenport. How about you walk away?”

I sink my fingers into the side of Kane’s hoodie. I don’t know what the hell just happened, but I was so sure Preston was going to kill me.

It’s bloodlust, I realize. I felt the red haze in his touch and each of his words.

That’s a man who’s probably killed before and would do it again in a heartbeat.

“That something is over,” Kane says without paying attention to my hand. “Go.”

“I don’t take orders from you. Step away.”

My hand trembles. What if Kane lets him do whatever he wants to teach me a lesson?

What the hell did I get myself into?

“Touch her again, and you lose that hand, Armstrong.”

Loud laughter spills from Preston. “Is that a threat?”

“A warning. Dahlia is mine and I made it clear that I don’t like others touching what’s mine.”

There’s a long, unbearable silence before Preston slams his shoulder against Kane’s. Hard. Then he walks off.

I don’t look at him, focusing on my trembling, chopped-off breaths.

What the hell is this feeling? A shot of adrenaline? The sensation of narrowly escaping death?

“Are you going to hold on to me forever?”

I release his hoodie and wince at the wrinkled mess I leave behind. “Sorry.”

Kane faces me, his expression closed off, his eyes dark. “Is that all you have to say?”

“Thanks.”

“Instead of thanking me, learn how to read the room and pick your fucking battles.” His tone is biting, his angry words cutting into me like knives.

I’ve never seen Kane this enraged. Hell, I didn’t think he was capable of this type of rage.

And the part that twists my stomach? It’s the feeling that he’s mad for me.

For my safety.

I swallow. “I…didn’t know.”

“But you must’ve felt it.” He releases a long sigh. “Stay the fuck away from Preston and Jude. You don’t have the slightest clue about what they’re capable of.”

“What about you?” I whisper. “I don’t know what you’re capable of either.”

He strokes my cheek, his voice low and gravelly. “It’s too late to stay away from me. You should’ve taken the chance when I first offered it.”