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

Don’t disappoint me.

Don’t disappoint me.

Don’t. Disappoint. Me.

It’s been a week since Kane spoke those words to me. He’s said nothing since then, and for some reason, I can’t get them out of my mind.

I’ve been trying to sneak into the arena to watch the Vipers practice, maybe catch Kane’s attention and ask him about what steps will be taking place going forward. However, their security is no joke. They have a zero-tolerance policy for outsiders. Even if they’re the team’s biggest fans. Doesn’t matter if they go to Graystone University.

If it weren’t for the very real pictures in my phone, I’d think the whole conversation I had with Kane and the promise he made about taking me to the initiation was a figment of my imagination.

Sure, no one knows when and where Vencor’s initiations take place since, according to rumors, they change them up to keep the mysterious factor going.

But Kane is in the inner circle. The Senior level is the highest rank attainable for all members except for Founders. I have no clue what type of trials they must go through or how many souls they have to sell to the Devil to get there, but I suspect their own soul isn’t enough.

I frown at my picture with Kane on my phone. I posted it on social media the other day and tagged him, but all I got was a like. That’s all. No DM or further acknowledgment of my existence.

Nothing.

I’m supposed to be studying, but I find myself staring at the selfie.

Again.

Kane’s expression is calmer than a starless night and just as deep. I can’t imagine him selling his soul, to be honest. He genuinely listens and lacks Preston’s shadiness and Jude’s brutality.

He can be relentless during a game if need be, but I’ve never seen Kane be aggressive. Whether on or off the ice.

I zoom in on his hand, where the ring shows. He’s still a Vencor, a Senior Vencor. For some reason, I seem to gloss over that detail whenever I think about Kane.

Which I’ve done constantly since our last encounter.

Vencor or not, I don’t believe he’s the type who dishes out empty promises.

But why hasn’t he gotten in contact since then? He’s kind of untouchable on campus, so I can’t exactly walk up to him like we’re acquaintances. We study in completely different fields in buildings that are on opposite ends of campus anyway. Him, business. Me, pre-med. So it would be hard to pop in there and pretend it’s a coincidence.

Besides, would that be a smart thing to do? Initiating a public meeting? The other time, he made sure his teammates were out of earshot before he talked to me. I assume he doesn’t want our deal to be exposed.

“Kane Davenport. You ain’t playing about your crush.”

My head whips up. I was so focused and lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice Megan getting close to my desk.

I fumble to flip the phone over. “He’s not my crush.”

Megan is my roommate in GU’s dorms and is here on a scholarship like me, so at least there’s not much societal difference between us. But lucky for her, she comes from a happy family and I often see her at the local cafés with her parents or siblings.

I keep to myself and she keeps to herself. She did try to befriend me in the beginning since she’s a real extrovert, but after she witnessed me studying like a dog to earn the grades needed for my scholarship, she kind of retreated and decided to spend more time with her friends in the social sciences department.

Megan is a redhead with dark skin and a striking fashion style. She’s rocking a red, white, and green kimono-style dress with slits in the skirt and glimmering chains for straps for one of her nights out.

“Girl, you were staring at that man like he was a snack.” Megan checks herself in the full-length mirror near the entrance of our room.

“I was not.”

“Uh-huh.” She takes a few selfies in the mirror.

Her side of the room is full of colorful clothes piled on the bed from when she was picking her outfit. Some purses have fallen on the floor, but her desk is spotless, all her social science books neatly displayed like they’re actual treasures.

My side is minimalist at best with my med books and laptop. However, my bedside table is covered with haphazard college hockey magazines that I’ve been studying more seriously than my school projects.

My three pairs of white sneakers are lined up by my side of the closet, while Megan’s are full of all types and colors of shoes.

“And here I was wondering about your recent obsession with hockey. Gotta say, you have expensive tastes. You couldn’t go for a lower-grade peasant from the team?”

I spin in my chair to face her. The other difference between Megan and me is that she’s been at GU since her freshman year. As for myself, I was studying in the neighboring town, Stantonville. I initially applied to GU and Stanton River College—or SRC—but my application was rejected for GU and I was accepted into SRC. Which was a bummer, but at least Violet was accepted into SRC, too, so we moved from New Jersey to Stantonville.

Imagine my surprise when I was offered a random scholarship to GU for my senior year this summer. To say I was over the moon would be an understatement. GU’s medical program is one of a kind, which is why I wanted to enroll here in the first place. And to be offered that opportunity for my senior year felt unreal.

Violet seemed a bit apprehensive, but she still bought me a little cake and we had a blast celebrating that night.

I thought this would be my new beginning.

And it is, but now, I don’t have Violet with me.

Megan is actually a local to Stantonville and could’ve gone to SRC, but she purposefully applied for a scholarship here because, in her words, “This place is the shit. Aside from their famous hockey program, SRC doesn’t have much to offer.”

The Stanton Wolves are the Vipers’ biggest rival. Both teams are known to produce the best NHL players, and their ‘Cold War’ games are easily the highlight of the college league.

Despite Megan not being massively interested in hockey, she was brought up surrounded by these two legends, so she knows more than the rumors I’ve heard and what my technical research can produce.

“I didn’t go for anyone,” I say to keep up the conversation. “He was generous enough to let me take a fan selfie after the game.”

She shifts her attention from the mirror and hikes a hand on her hip. “You’ll sit there and tell me with a straight face that you don’t want to be anything more than a fan?”

I spin my fountain pen between my fingers but remain silent.

“That’s what I thought,” she says with a gloating facial expression, then looks at the mirror again to pat her red curls. “Better not get your hopes up. He’s top of the food chain, as in royalty, in this college, town, and world. People like you and me don’t mess with people like them and get out unscathed. So lower the standards…unless you only want to fuck him? In that case, get in line. I’d let that man throw me around like I’m his puck. I heard from an acquaintance of an acquaintance that he has a huge dick to match the energy.”

“Megan!”

“What? Gotta do my research before opening my legs. And I just did yours, too. You’re welcome.”

I laugh despite myself. “What else do you know aside from rumors about his dick size?”

“That’s all I need.” She side-eyes me. “That’s all you need as well if you want to stay out of trouble.”

“I just want to know my chances.”

“You have none. Those people who live up the Hill only get into relationships with each other, marry each other, and produce little minions like themselves who’ll repeat the cycle all over again. We’re outsiders, D. Outsiders get no chances.” She looks up. “Dear God, in the next life, I want to be reborn as a rich man. Amen. Hold on. With a huge dick also. Big amen to that. No pun intended.”

“So outsiders get no chances, but fucking is okay?”

“Hell yeah. Fucking is harmless fun. Anything beyond that is not. If you want to be super realistic, you’ll get a better chance fucking that manwhore Preston—who accepts all girls’ advances—than Kane. Hell, Jude might be easier to fuck than Kane. It’s hard to get that man excited about anything other than hockey. His hookups are few and far between. Either he’s training to be a monk, or he has one hell of an NDA in place, because all the girls want a piece, but few have managed to get it, and those who did don’t talk about it.”

Fucking Kane is the last thing on my mind right now. Okay, not really the last. I’d be lying if I said I don’t find him hot. Under different circumstances, I’d be open to some harmless fun like Megan, but with my situation, I need something deeper.noveldrama

A lot deeper.

“Have you ever been to Ravenswood Hill?” I ask. “You know, to snoop and see how they live.”

“Hell no. This pretty head.” She motions at her face. “I want it kept on this pretty neck. Thank you very much.”

“Is it that dangerous?”

“Fuck yeah. Listen. I know you’re probably one of those students who loves the thrill of secret worlds, haunted houses, and enchanted forests, but this is not a horror movie. Those who’ve dared to go close to the Hill have disappeared without a trace. Don’t become a statistic.”

I already have. I have nothing else to lose.

But Megan is right. Going to the Hill just to snoop without any entry or escape plan in place is just asking for death.

That’s why I thought the best way would be to achieve entry through the team.

Megan sprays a cloud of perfume before she leaves, attempting one final time to invite me to the latest ‘sick’ party. However, she gives up when I tell her I’m studying tonight.

At least, that’s what I intend to do.

I find it hard to focus and barely finish reading a case study for ethics.

My phone lights up and I check it to look at the pictures Megan’s sent of ’what I missed.’

The pen nestled between my fingers stills and drops on top of my textbook when I find a DM from @kane.davenport.

Kane

Are you free tonight?

My heart thunders so loudly, I can hear it in my ears as I type: Hi! Yes.

Then realize it sounds too desperate, so I delete it.

Me

Why?

The initiation is tonight. In two hours.

Oh God.

That came sooner than I expected. I didn’t think I’d get a save-the-date card or anything. But a two-hour notice?

I’m not even mentally prepared.

Will you be there?

Yes. Where?

I’ll send you a location. Be there in an hour and a half.

Okay. Thank you.

I think the conversation has ended as he sees my text and doesn’t reply, but then a single word appears on the screen and my heartbeat quickens.

Dahlia.

Yes?

Red. Say that word now and this nightmare won’t happen. If you don’t, you won’t have a chance afterward.

My eyes fly over what he’s written again and again. Just like when he learned about my interest, he’s offering me a way out.

But he doesn’t know that when my mind is set on something, I won’t stop until it’s done.

Someone in Vencor was behind my sister’s attack and subsequent coma. I lost my only family because of them, and I won’t rest until they’re six feet under. Hopefully, after they suffer.

So no. Even if I’m going to die, I won’t take the out that Kane’s offered.

I like that he’s putting the option on the table, though.

I’ll be there.

There’s a long stretch of silence from his end before he sends one final text.

Dress comfortably. It’s going to be the longest night of your life.