Sweet Touch of Venom (Lethal Love #1)

8. Ronan

Chapter 8

Ronan

Let’s Play Little Snake

I was right, of course. Just I thought. The snake waltzes to the bar where Henley, the third culprit, resides. To be so worried, he's still out doing his nightly activities.

I’ve been keeping an eye on her for three days straight, but only at night. I know her routines in and out of her apartment and sometimes at the library.

I never get to see her face, since the only time I get to notice her is when it’s dark. Throughout the day, I’m following missions across the state, and when I get back, I head straight to where I saw her last.

Now tonight I get to witness it all. I sat far from the apartment waiting for her move. Three hours, to be exact. And now it’s nine at fucking night. My patience is dwindling, and I’m ready to just say fuck it, but I can’t. I’m too desperate to know.

This better be worth it. Because soon I’ll see who this snake is, but I’m also interested in how she’s going to kill this man. Will she catch him in the bathroom? Follow him home? Lure him in with her shiny scales?

Wind swims through my hair and down the crease of my coat, jerking my bones into a slight shiver. I’m more excited than anything. All I need is popcorn.

I stand between two trees covered by high bushes. I’m camouflaged, wearing all black, which seems fitting for the night sky.

The vibrations in my pocket distract me. Fuck. It’s probably Bedford or Mal. Maybe even my brother Cruz. I don't need his shit tonight.

I grab it while still focused ahead. I set the light on very low, making sure it doesn’t blind me or set off my camouflage.

Gear

Consider yourself removed from the barbecue, you spawn of Satan.

My face dulls at that waste of my attention. Stuffing my phone back in my pocket, I divert from the stupid ass message. Big ass baby. I wasn’t going to go, anyway. I don’t do gatherings.

I kneel, watching as she slowly creeps up to the door with faux bones and skulls nailed to it. Damn. Her normal green cargos and that oversized hoodie swallowing her whole. From a far I can scope her figure, the sweater is large, but it doesn’t fall past her ass, and I can’t help but slowly skim down to it. It’s plump and round—my cock is talking, which makes me disgusted, but it’s a natural reaction.

She reaches out, wrapping her hand around the long handle, but her foot lands slowly in front of her before straightening her back.

Something tipped her off .

She then shifts her body, her head lowered; she speeds away from the bar, striding toward the back where the dumpsters are. I straighten up, my eyes zooming, searching for a sign that she’s in the bar.

Nothing.

There’s nowhere for you to go, little snake. You little motherfucker.

She must’ve fled the scene—she probably felt my presence. That’s amateur on my part.

My throat tenses, darting my eyes all over. What the fuck? What the fuck? What the motherfuck? “Where did you go?” I murmur to myself, looking through the gaps in the bushes. She couldn’t have gotten too far without me at least seeing where she?—

The sound of a gun cocking and the cool metal pressing into the back of my head stops my movement. I freeze.

“Who the hell are you, and why are you following me?” she grits out, pressing the gun harder into my skull.

I take in her soft voice. My ears are notating little things to remember, so when I get out of this shit, I’ll have further information to stand on. Or maybe I’ll snatch out her windpipe—we’ll see.

“Answer me.” She nudges the gun as I’m slowly standing on my feet with my arms raised in ‘surrender’.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m watching you,” I say smoothly. Ballsy as fuck. She can shoot me right in the head—no hesitation. But I’m taking a chance that if she’s smart, she’s more interested in my ‘watching.’

“Oh,” she sings, and the damn hair on my neck stands. I grit my teeth at the act of my own body in this detrimental situation. “Then you must be ready to die tonight.”

Heat runs through my forehead—my neck stiffening. I crunch my boots on the dry leaves, preparing for my next move. “Someone may be dying tonight, but it sure as hell won’t be me.”

My arms whip around, slapping the weapon directly from her grip; she loses her footing, toppling back. I charge at her at a fast speed, tackling her to the ground, a low oomph escaping her lips.

Before I can lean up to pull off the mask and see her face, her arm wraps around the back of my neck, tightening the grip, pulling me under her pit like I’m a headless horseman. Her long legs wrapped around my waist. She squeezes in, nearly breaking my ribs in a death trap. I grunt out pain and the air escaping my lungs. I dig my teeth into my bottom lip from the bone crushing grip.

“Any last words,” she says breathlessly.

I could say this is a fantastic position to be in if I was fucking, but currently, that’s nowhere near the case. If I don't do something, I will die, she’ll make sure of it. I let out a low groan containing my grunts, so it’s not too loud. She squeezes again and I tense at the pressure.

“Yeah. Fuck. You.”

Finding a solution quickly, I skate my hands down her thighs—not noticing the plushness of her meat under my palms, of course—then under her hoodie. She stiffens, her legs gripping tighter, and then I dig my thumbs directly into her waist bone. Hard enough to cause it to crack, painful enough to bruise.

A muffled scream fills her throat, loosening her grip. I take this moment to get out of her hold, rise, and go after the gun.

I inhale sharply, shaking my head from how fucking lightheaded I’ve become from that combat chokehold. Everything is dizzy and twisted, but I rush over to the gun near the left trees, stumbling as I do. My hand outstretched, I reach for the weapon, but her weight topples on my back, wrapping her legs around my waist. One hand gripping my hair and the other elbow punching into my shoulder. I grunt, gritting my teeth from the hits.

I reach my arms over my head, gripping the top of her head, getting a chunk of her hair tucked in her hoodie and throwing her over my shoulder.

“You’re crazy,” I growl in an angry whisper, but she lands on her feet, twirling around, and mule kicking me. “Goddammit,” I spit out under my breath, tumbling back against this damn tree again.

“Watch what you say next, or I’ll cut out your tongue before killing you.” Her voice is oddly soothing amidst her threat. Like someone you want to hear singing lullabies but laced with a wicked tone that’ll make your ears bleed in the process. I can’t help the thrill that spikes in my chest.

She glides to me with that sultry switch to her hips. With the mask still blocking her face, the darkness overshadows her form, making her look like she was born from the night sky. Prancing about like a fucking snake, slithering beneath the cracks.

My eyes roam over her body, still ignoring the thump from the beat of my heart. “I normally wait to take a lady home before doing anything with my tongue.” I lean off the tree, putting my fist up to prepare for attack. I don’t believe in fighting innocent women or putting my hands on them, but she’s clearly fucking crazy and wants to kill me—so I’m not backing down for shit.

But she stops mid-walk. Something in her shifts. Her chest rises and falls, her hesitation obvious.

My brows scrunch at her sudden stillness. “What? La Serpiente venenosa, afraid to get bitten?” I say, my fist remaining at my chin.

We begin to move in a circling motion. I’m eyeing her feet, and I can’t tell what she’s looking at beneath that mask of hers. But I’m sick of it, and I’m ready to snatch it off so she can reveal herself to me.

Our movements are slow and methodical. She hums out, “The only one that should be afraid is you.” Her words quiver angrily, then she stops mid-movement. “ Ronan .”

My brows furrow deep, but before I can register a reaction, she’s charging toward me.

Her small fist swings at my face quickly, but I block each hit. It feels like a rope is wrapped around my throat, squeezing and pulling until I can’t breathe. She knows my name. How the hell does she notice it’s me?

Who in the fuck is she?

I need an answer NOW. Entrenched in my thoughts, I didn’t block her incoming hit fast enough, giving her the leverage to punch me in my mouth. She goes to swing again, but my hand catches her wrist, twisting it until she yelps, leaning over like a rag doll. Then I launch my knee into her stomach.

And no—I’m not satisfied. Metallic rims my mouth, laying on my tongue, alerting me I’m bleeding because of her again . Now that she’s leaned over, her arm twisted in the air, I pull her hood off her head, only to see an array of long curly hair falling out and around her.

Still, I take a handful of her locks, as much as I can fit into my fucking hand, and swing her into the tree. Slamming her hard enough that the branches shake, releasing a trickle of leaves now falling around us.

She yelps out again with a whimpering moan. Her body slacks, but I won’t let her fall.

I look to the side, seeing the gun within arm’s reach by the stump of the tree. I bend over and grab it; the cold metal tingling in my hand.

Her body shifts, moaning still. My hand grips her neck tight, lifting her to her tiptoes, scrapping her back against the tree. She lets out another strangled whimper, wrapping her dainty fingers around my wrist, scraping at the skin, kicking her feet to push me away. But that only makes me squeeze tighter. My other hand points the barrel of the gun to her head.

“Speak now or your brains will be part of this tree,” I warn, my head throbbing with heat and my muscles aching to pull this trigger.

The doors to the bar open and Henley stands out. Both of our heads snapped to him. He can’t see us. I face her slowly, and I insert the gun into her mouth. Although her mouth is exposed, her face remains covered by the mask. I press the metal further in, nostrils flaring and eyes, warning her that if she does anything that I will shoot her in the mouth and then snap her neck.

To my surprise, she doesn’t move until he goes back inside. She attempts to kick me, but I press my legs into her knees, slamming her against the wood again. She groans, her hand going to her head.

“Now tell me who the fuck are you,” I snarl through biting teeth, my face close to the spikes protruding from the masks. “How the hell do you know me?”

“See for yourself.” She wheezes, her breath scattered from my tight grip, but I don’t give a damn; she’s going to talk—even if her pipes are broken.

“Take it off.” I wave the gun at her mask. I can feel her swallow beneath my palm. Her hand raises to the mask. My heart rate picks up a notch, worried I’m going to see a woman with a grossly deformed face, but instead she pulls it off and my heart grips in my chest, and it plummets to the ground.

Pictures and sweet images, innocent smiles, tiny giggles, and textbooks. A teen with two thick braids down her back and loose curly strands pass through my mind. My memories whirl like a collage, and I’m nearly stumbling in the grip. Almond-shaped brown eyes stare into mine, and she cracks a sinister smile with a gleam in her eyes.

“Remember me, darling?”

I blink at her, and my mouth parts, trying to make sense of it all.

The culprit is Anita Velz. The little sister to Carter, my best friend.

I don’t understand because I have been searching for her for years. Until I gave up eight years ago after realizing she practically fell off the damn face off the earth. And now?…?I breathe harder, staring at a ghost in the face, smirking so deviously. Now I see what she’s been up to.

“H-how.” My words fumble as they come out. My insides are squeezing so tight it’s similar to a steel hand punching me directly in the chest.

This is Venom.

She may be this?…? person . But I can’t help the guilt seeping through, and I relinquish, loosening my grip entirely—which probably isn’t the best idea. But right now, I’m not thinking clearly. What the fuck? The gun in my hand follows suit, lowering until it’s by my side.

“I could ask you the same thing.” The words come out in heaves from her breath, being constricted.

I keep staring as if her face will change into someone else, and my mind is finally giving out on me. “I looked for you,” I whisper.

Her features soften before glaring again. “You didn't look hard enough.” Then she knees me directly in my balls. Pain shoots up to my belly and I let out a growl, leaning over to clutch my traumatized dick. I back up, falling to my knees and to my side to fathom my fate. Dickless and dying. Fuck, that’s one way to go.

I see her feet stepping toward me before hearing a clunk, like the butt of a gun smashed into something hard. She falls to the ground and then a swish sound cuts in. Her body stops. Already in so much pain, I didn’t register that Mal had walked up to me from the shadows.

“Looks like you need a hand head man.” Her sedated sniper slangs over her shoulder.

I release an agonizing breath, looking at Anita collapsed. “I had it under control.” I groan, shutting my eyes from the excruciating pain.

I don’t sound very convincing at the moment.

She hums, “Sure.”