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

I haven’t gone to Kane’s place for three days.

That doesn’t stop me from visiting his mom. She texted and invited me over for afternoon tea, and I couldn’t say no.

I’ve been let into the extravagant mansion by a member of staff who merely bowed at me and told me to follow him.

My hand tightens around the flowers I bought on my way here.

The Davenport mansion rivals the Armstrongs’ in grandiosity and sheer opulence. They’re both huge, shining, and smell of old money.

They both reek of death as well.

My chest has been tight since the moment I walked in.

The butler’s steps echo on the checkered marble floor, a soft but steady rhythm that cuts through the dooming silence. He moves with precision, his posture straight and his bald scalp catching the dim light as we pass towering walls of dark wood and art whose creatures feel like they’ll pop out and devour me.

The air is heavy, laced with something old that presses against my skin like a warning.

So…this is where Kane grew up.

How could he breathe amid this repressive energy?

My pulse beats in my throat as I study my surroundings, the walls seeming to close in more the farther we walk. Every corner of this mansion feels untouched, frozen in time, like it exists outside of reality.

And yet…

Every inch of it is Kane. The controlled edges, the cold perfection, all laced with something darker beneath the surface.

No wonder he transformed into a fortress with no access. He was born into one.

“Does Kane visit often?” I ask the butler.

He says nothing, just glides ahead with his stiff posture, leading me deeper into the belly of this house, past heavy doors and windows draped in velvet.

Suddenly, he stops and gestures to the glass door framed in dark wood up ahead. Beyond it, I can see the faint outline of the garden.

He slides the door open without a word, and the crisp, sharp scents of earth and water hit me.

The garden is alive in a way the mansion isn’t—soft camellia trees drifting in the breeze, the quiet trickle of a stream somewhere in the distance.

The stones beneath my feet feel solid, but each step I take pulls me further into images of what it must’ve felt like.

Kane grew up here. He was made somewhere between the house’s cold walls and the tranquility of this garden.

I make out Helena’s silhouette standing by a large pond.

She’s wearing a soft beige dress with a shawl draped around her shoulders as she feeds fat koi fish.

I’m mesmerized by the view of the fish gliding effortlessly through the water and opening their mouths.

“Dahlia.” She pauses upon seeing me, a faint smile painting her lips.

“Hi.” I offer her the bouquet of flowers I spent a fortune to buy. “I hope you like this small gift.”

“Aw, that’s so thoughtful, thank you.” She hugs the flowers to her chest and strokes the colorful petals. “I don’t remember the last time I received flowers.”

She motions in the direction of the glass door, and a staff member walks out with purpose and takes the bouquet.

“Put it in my room,” Helena says, then faces me. “I need to feed these little ones before I can sit down. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. They’re so beautiful.”

“They are.” A glaze covers her eyes as she stares at the pond. “What most people don’t know is that beneath that beauty lies the most formidable resilience and strength. They can survive in harsh weather and swim against currents. They give me hope.”

I study her profile. She seems half alive, and her voice sounds a bit tired. Lifeless, even.

My heart aches for her.

Helena must’ve been so beautiful in her youth, but now, her cheeks have sunken, and she’s skin and bones.

I try to cheer her up. “Do you have favorites?”

“Sora.” She motions at the largest red koi fish, who keeps beating the others to the food. “I got him when I first found out I was pregnant with Kane. All his siblings passed away, but he’s going strong, nearing twenty-three years old.”

“What does Sora mean?”

“Sky in Japanese. The wide, unrestrained, and all-encompassing sky.” Her eyes soften as if she were looking at Kane.

Now, she’s breaking my heart.

And I’m really disliking Kane. Would it hurt him to show some affection to his lonely mom?

Some of us would kill to have a mom.

“Would you like to feed them?” She offers me the ceramic bowl.

“Can I?”

“Absolutely.”

I grab the bowl and start throwing out some pellets. The prick Sora eats it all, leaving the rest with open mouths and no food.

He shares Kane’s all-or-nothing personality for sure.

It’s his way or the highway.

After that encounter where I was nearly murdered by his friend, that asshole Kane has ghosted me for three days.

No kidding. There have been no texts, and he hasn’t talked to me in the arena.

Just because I said I didn’t want to see his face for three days. I was actually being vengeful because he refused to get together if sex wasn’t involved, but I didn’t think he’d take it literally.

So I sent him a text this morning.

Wow. Talk about petty.

He left me on Read.

Not gonna lie, I don’t like it when my tactics are used against me.

But, anyway, Kane who?

The guy I can’t stop being curious about and, therefore, dropped by his parents’ house, that’s who.

With an internal groan, I focus back on Helena. “Is Sora always this greedy?”

She laughs, the sound airy. “I suppose. He’s the oldest and believes in hierarchy.”

“Just like Kane.”

Her smile disappears. “No. Kane believes in control. Just like his father.”

My fingers pause and Helena throws some food, her gaze lost in the depths of the dark pond.

“I don’t want to be nosy, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable, but I’ve been curious…” I swallow. “Why is your relationship with Kane so strained?”

“Have you seen the scars on his back?” she asks, not looking at me.

“Yes, and I also noticed bruises on his wrists not too long ago.”

She stiffens, her face becoming so pale, I think she’s getting sick. But when she speaks, her voice is strained, as though she’s barely holding it together. “He’s been trained or, more accurately, tortured by his father ever since he was six years old. He’s had to go through physical, mental, and even poison training since he was a kid. And while he’s more independent now, if he doesn’t meet Grant’s expectations, he’s punished severely. I didn’t protect him and he hates me. Rightfully so.”

My lips part and the bowl nearly falls from my hand. “You mean to tell me those hideous scars were caused by his father? What type of father hurts his son that badly?”

“The type who’s raising an heir and that heir needs to be a machine.” A shine appears in her sunken eyes. “Before all of this, Kane was the sweetest boy. He was kind and happy. He felt bad for others and helped them. He played with the staff’s children and gave them his favorite toys. He used to read me bedtime stories, not the other way around, and loved plucking flowers from the garden and giving them to me.”

As she speaks, her smile widens, but then it disappears as the wind ruffles her hair. “But those beautiful personality traits were seen as weaknesses in Grant’s eyes. He told me that his son would not grow up into a useless philanthropist, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. If I wanted to leave, so be it. But I didn’t, and I had to stand helpless as Grant set out to destroy Kane’s soul and purge all those pure emotions until he was as bleak and soulless as himself. And he succeeded. With flying colors.”

A fierce surge of rage floods through me.

I don’t even know who I’m angry at. Kane’s dad or the damn world he was born into. I’m even mad at Helena for not stopping the abuse.

But at the same time, I want to hug her.

I feel like she’s also a victim in a different sense. While she didn’t leave, she also didn’t help.

“I apologize for oversharing.” Helena takes the bowl of food and places it on a shelf under the gazebo. “I don’t know why I feel comfortable talking to you. Maybe it’s because I lost my son, so I’m trying to get close to his girlfriend. If you don’t mind keeping an old woman some company, that is.”

I’m not his girlfriend. At least, not in that sense.

“You’re not old,” I say instead. “And I would love to. You have a lovely place.”

“It’s not mine. It’s Grant’s. Everything is Grant’s. I’m merely an accessory in his shiny empire.”

She guides me to a table under a heated, covered gazebo where some staff are pouring tea. There’s a towering assortment of hors d’oeuvres and pastries.

“I didn’t know what you like, so I had the chef prepare a little bit of everything.”

A little bit is an understatement. She basically brought the whole kitchen to the table; it’s pure European-style afternoon tea.

Which I’ve only seen in extravagant movies.

“This looks amazing, thank you.” I sit down and try not to devour everything in sight.

Manners, Dahlia. Manners. Don’t go showing your unpolished side in front of rich people.

I struggle with the numerous forks and knives, but Helena says not to worry about it and to eat however I wish.

She tells me about the happiest years of her life—since Kane was born—and the saddest—after he was conditioned by his father.

Helena also talks about how the house has felt lifeless since Kane permanently moved out a couple of years ago. Even though he ignored her or treated her coldly before, he still came home and she saw him every day. Now that he’s gone and refuses to keep in touch, her depression has gotten worse.

I notice that she barely eats and the butler brings her medication. He hides the label, but she doesn’t seem to care too much.

Prozac.

If she’s taking antidepressants and still looks so damn sad, it’s serious.

It feels like I’m using her by probing, but her son is a blank slate who won’t tell me anything, no matter what I do.

After I swallow the most delicious muffins I’ve ever tasted, I say, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Anything.”

“That day when we first met, you said I should run away while I can. What did you mean by that?”

She lifts the colorful teacup to her mouth, then pauses. “I suppose I didn’t want you to end up like me. I have no way out, and even if I managed to escape Grant’s sphere of influence, I’d have to abandon my son and live in hiding for the rest of my life. But I realize I was wrong in suggesting that.”

“Why is that?”

“Kane doesn’t look at you the same way Grant looks at me. I was always a pawn for him. The daughter of a supreme court justice that he needed to further his endeavors, and he was the man I wanted to marry for status. Grant never loved me and I never loved him. Ours was a political union through and through. It’s different for you and Kane. He cares.”

I nearly choke on my tea and cover it up with a laugh. “Cares? Pretty sure he doesn’t know the meaning of that word.”

“Maybe not consciously, but he does.” She juts her chin to the side. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t have rushed here.”

When I follow her field of vision, my lips part.

Kane is striding toward the glass doors, his silhouette swallowing up the horizon. He looks so dashing in jeans, a white shirt, and a leather jacket.

“You told him?” I ask.

“Samuel probably did. That’s the butler who brought you in earlier. If Kane didn’t care, would he come over, worried about the prospect of you meeting Grant?” she asks in a soft voice. “Though he knows that Grant only comes back home late on the weekdays, Kane is always cautious.”

A few moments later, he stops by the table and says like a robotic soldier, “Mother.”

“Hi, darling.” She smiles and nods at an empty seat. “Join us for tea?”

“We’re leaving.” He grabs my elbow.

I release myself and tug on his sleeve, painting a smile. “Of course we’re not. Kane would love to join, right?”

He glares down at me.

I glare back.

“You don’t have to force yourself, darling,” she says awkwardly. “If you have things to do…”

“He doesn’t.” I half stand and whisper in his ear, “If you don’t sit down and join us, there will be no sex for a whole week.”

“Then I’ll find a substitute,” he murmurs back in a dark tone. “Someone with less drama.”

“In that case, you can forget about fucking me altogether. Oh, I’ll also send you pictures of the latest dick I’ll be riding.”

“Watch it,” he growls into my ear.

“You know I’m stubborn as hell, so either you give in to a harmless afternoon tea or risk an all-out war.”

His brows pull together and I think he’ll drag me out, judging by how his hand flexes, but then he reluctantly sits down.

Helena watches us and a genuine soft smile paints her lips. She falls over herself asking the staff to prepare some dishes and to bring more of this and that.

“There’s no need,” Kane says in the same dispassionate tone. “We’re not staying for long.”

“We are.” I sling my arm through his and stroke it as I smile innocently. “The whole afternoon.”

His icy eyes bore into me, filled with disdain, but he says nothing.

He also doesn’t throw away my arm—probably because we’re in front of his mom—so I take advantage of the situation and continue caressing him.

Maybe I’m kind of obsessed with how muscular his bicep is, or I probably missed him.

Though he’d never hear me say that.

Helena smiles as she pours him some tea that he barely touches. I can tell he’s stiff, judging from his tightened muscles. He also doesn’t talk much.

So I fill the gap, trying to not leave his mom hanging—something he has no problem doing.

Including him in the conversation is an uphill battle, but at least Helena seems less sad and her smiles are more natural.

She asks about school and training, which Kane responds to mechanically, but I add more punch to my replies.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were on a scholarship,” she says with awe. “That’s impressive, Dahlia. It must’ve been a lot of work. And here I am taking from your precious time and asking you to entertain me.”

“If you know that, don’t invite her again,” Kane says point-blank.

I elbow him hard and smile at his mom. “It’s my pleasure. This peaceful garden is a nice change from the town’s hustle and bustle. I’m truly grateful. Don’t listen to Kane. His delivery sucks ninety percent of the time.”

“Does it?” He smiles as he wraps a palm around my nape, tightening his grip.

“Duh. You can be so boring.” I brush his hand away. “Anyway, we can totally meet whenever you wish.”

Helena smiles and shakes her head.

Soon after, Kane has had enough of playing house and insists on leaving. His mom hugs him, but he pats her back in a detached manner. So when it’s my turn, I give her the warmest hug, promising we’ll meet again soon.

And I’m not even a hugger.

As Kane escorts me out of the garden and into the house with a hand on the small of my back, I stare up at him. “Maybe you should be kinder to your mom.”

“Maybe you need to be less nosy.” He halts in the middle of the long hallway and faces me, his shoulders tightening. “Why the fuck can’t you stop making things difficult for one fucking day?”

“If you want easy, go search for easy.”

“Dahlia…” He wraps a hand around my throat, his voice echoing in a low, dark timbre. “You need to learn how to stay the fuck out of my business.”

I sink my fingers into his hair and pull, then get on my tiptoes and whisper against his mouth, “How about no?”

His hot, heavy breaths skim over my lips. God. Why do I want to kiss him? We’re not even having sex, so I shouldn’t need a connection.

This is confusing and illogical.

Kane’s exhales turn harsher, his grip tighter, and his nostrils flare.

He’s containing himself.

Shoving himself behind that wall I hate so much.

“I can handle you, Kane,” I say in a whisper, stroking his hair instead of pulling it.

“You think you can.”

“I know I can.” I wet my lips, and his darkened eyes zero in on the motion, turning molten.

“You know nothing,” he grinds out even as he watches my mouth. “You’re just a fuck, Dahlia. Stay where you belong.”

“And yet you want to kiss me.” I lick his lower lip, leaving a shiny trail of my saliva on his soft skin.

His grip tenses up on my throat. “Stop that.”

“Show me how I’m just a fuck.” I roll my body against the taut ridges of his muscles. “Kiss me, Kane.”

“You’re a fucking nuisance.”

“Kiss me.”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you, too. Kiss me.”

“I’ll fucking ruin you.”

“Prove it. Kiss me⁠—”

My words are stolen when he kills the distance and seals his lips to mine with a groan.

There’s something different about this kiss.

It’s deep and unhinged like the rest of him, but it’s also slower, not as frenzied, not accompanied by his brutal fucking or his constant need to claim and possess me.

His hand tightens on the sides of my throat, his index finger tilting my jaw to the side as he devours my mouth, sensually sucking on my tongue.

There’s anger, too, but it pales in comparison to the way he owns me.

I kiss him back, reveling in how he loses control.

How he shows me his true self.

Only me.

I pull on his hair, then stroke it.

I moan in his mouth and let him manhandle me any way he pleases.

I’ve come to the realization that I can let this man do whatever he wants to me as long as I have him all to myself.

It’s selfishness, I realize. For the first time in my life, I’m coveting something I can’t have.

It’s terrifying, but I can’t stop.

“Who’s this?”

Kane goes still, but he calmly pulls away.

I see it then, in a fraction of a second when his eyes meet mine.

Anger.

No…fear?

He stands to his full height, slightly blocking me behind him, but I still see the man who just spoke.

An older version of Kane, with a hard expression and a tailored suit.

Grant Davenport.

It must be him.

The man who broke Kane and left scars all over his body.

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I didn’t know you were bringing guests over, son. Introduce us.”

“She’s no one important,” Kane says in a detached tone, but he’s half hiding me now.

“Oh? If she’s no one important, why is she at my house?”

“Won’t happen again.”

“Introduce us, son,” Grant repeats in the same monotone voice.

I can feel Kane’s entire back going rigid, and I don’t like it.

A protective urge I’ve only felt for Violet washes over me, and I step from Kane’s shadow and force a smile as I offer Grant my hand. “Dahlia Thorne. Nice to meet you, sir.”

He shakes my hand. Hard. And I do the same, hoping to break the fucking hand that he put on Kane.

We finally release each other.

“I’ve never heard of the Thorne family.”

“That’s because they’re not important.”

“Not important,” he repeats in a deadpan tone, then looks at Kane. “If you’re done here, follow me.”

Grant walks down the hallway without another look in my direction.

As he disappears around the corner, Kane faces me, his shoulders still tense but his expression neutral. All the passion and the glimmer of heat from earlier have disappeared.

His walls are back in place, and he looks like a shell of himself. “You go first. Samuel will drive you to your dorm.”

I grab his wrist, an awful premonition tightening my stomach. “Why don’t you drive me? I’ll go to your place.”

“Not tonight.” He calmly starts to remove my hand.

I dig my nails in deeper. “Don’t follow him. He’s going to hurt you like that night against the Wolves. I know he’s the reason you have those bruises.”

Kane clenches his jaw but soon releases a breath. “I see my mother has been sharing things she shouldn’t.”

“She’s worried about you.” And I’m worried about him, too—what the hell?

“I’ll be fine. It’s nothing.”noveldrama

“Abuse is not nothing,” I whisper-yell.

“Go home, Dahlia.” He strokes my hair and then pats my cheek, the motion cold and lacking any of the warmth from earlier. “If you pity me again, I’ll cut you the fuck out of my life.”

And then he walks down the hall and into the lion’s den.

My heart clenches so hard, I’m sure I’ll be sick.