Sweet Touch of Venom (Lethal Love #1)

21. Venom

Chapter 21

Venom

I scream shockingly loud, trepidation causing my chest to tighten. Ronan quickly turns to my voice, eyes panicked, as if I’m the one in trouble. But then ducks swiftly to the side. I kick the machete out of the man’s thick hand, then I spin, ducking as he swings before jamming my blade into his chest. He growls out, stumbling back. I look over at Ronan, whose eyes fall on me with an appreciating gaze. He nods softly before his eyes grow dark as he looks back at the man who’s still holding my blade to his arteries.

Ronan lifts his heavy boot, kicking the man right in the blade, digging it further into his bones. He screams and falls to the ground, crimson pouring past his lips. The gunshots stop, and the sound of fists and metal hitting bones come to a halt. I look up to see every man is down or dead.

Ronan bows downward, his elbows on his knees. Mal and Boone stand beside me watching their headman become a menace.

“Fred escaped. He’s not in the pile,” Mal says.

Ronan picks up the machete, swirling it in front of the guy’s face, nearly slicing his cheek and nose. The man’s eyes shift, following the knife. His fear is evident, his face paling and sweat protruding on his forehead.

The guy tries to talk, but it’s unclear.

“Where is he? Make it easy for us so we don’t have to search this whole house.”

His eyes are wide but dulling; he finally manages to speak. “I-I’m not telling y-you shit.” Blood flies through his teeth as he slurs his words.

Ronan, unfazed, turns his head slightly to the side as the blood sprays, and then ticks his teeth. “Wrong answer, but I’ll grant you with the same death you tried to give me.” He stands up with a careless expression. With no hesitation, he raises the machete and swings down, severing the man’s head off like chopped wood. The blood sprays out, flinging to his boots and pants. Then Ronan kicks his head, it rolls over then lands facing us with his eyes open and his mouth spread into its own creepy Halloween mask.

My eyes widened with shock and surprise.

Welcome to GenCre.

My gaze does a thing of its own as it roams Ronan’s back. His stand is strong and confident, the muscles clear as day rippling through the black shirt. Along the way, he rolled up his sleeves and now displaying the ink etched into his left forearm, and the veins bulging out like even they have their own set of muscles.

Ronan kneels again as wraps his hand around my knife and pulls it out of his chest plate, wiping it on the corpse shirt. He turns around finally to face us, but his eyes are solely on me, warm and intense.

I don’t know why my lungs expand, or why I feel flutters in my stomach when he looks at me, but I don’t stray either, even though I should.

“Chris.” He speaks in the earpiece while still concentrating his gaze on me. His large chest rises and falls, and his chiseled, bearded jaw flexes.

“On it.” A deep and gravelly voice comes into all our earpieces.

“You two scope out the top floor.”

Ronan’s eyes stay glued on me as he orders everyone around like some king. Might as well say he is; he’s respected, idolized, and people will die to defend his honor.

Even save his life.

Unfortunately, I became one of those people.

He’s the reason your brother is gone. My father’s voice screams at me.

Mal and Boone nod, then head to the steps. Now I wish I would’ve run off with them because the energy is thick and heavy. The heat from his stare blazes into my face like the sun on a hot day. I watch his black boots that’s stained with blood step forward, and I lift my head, raising my chin.

Such a bad choice because that one step closes the gap between us, and now, once again, he stands mere inches from me.

I push the sudden feelings away and glare at him. “You almost died. You need to be more careful,” I rush out, pointing at the headless dead man.

He tilts his head to catch my mysterious worry. Heat rises to my neck, so I cover it up. I thread my fingers through my tangled bangs, but it flops back down. “We need to finish this, and only then you can die however and whenever you please.”

A crooked grin comes on his lips, like he can see through my bullshit. His eyes are still boring deep into me.

Becoming uneasy, I place my hand on my hip. “I’m not sure what’s so amusing to you, but you could’ve been chopped meat.”

“And yet here I am,” he says deep and calmly, lifting my dagger and handling it like it’s his.

I shake my head in utter disbelief, crossing my arms, purposely bumping them against his hard chest. He doesn’t budge. My blood only starts heating up. “Do you not care if you live or die?”

“I care. But what is a team for if they don’t watch your back in those situations? You think I would make it this far without a trusted team? We look after each other, save each other. I’ll do the same for you any day. Hell, I’ll die for you if it means protecting you or anyone else on my team.”

My chest squeezes with heavy pressure, my consciousness reminding me why it’s so difficult to hate him. Why would he willingly die for another person. It's so stupid and idiotic, yet my stomach is rolling over from his confession.

Without taking his eyes off me, he reaches out, unfolding my arm and wrapping his hand under mine. My body tenses. I clench my jaw to suppress the breath, wanting to escape. My eyes zero in on him.

“You didn’t have to do that, but because you did.” He places my dagger in my hand. I look at it, clean and free of blood completely.

Exactly how I like it.

I tuck in my lip, licking the rim. He watches the movement, and my heart beats harder into my ribs. It almost feels like he’s sucking up all the hate, and reluctance I had toward him and tossing it overboard.

“I am forever indebted to you.” It came out as more of a whisper. One that drives shivers up my spine. It’s a clause that I never agreed to. Those little words alone make me feel like he owes me his life. All he needed to do was bow and kiss my red stained boots.

Here we are standing in the middle of a bloodbath, moaning men and dead ones. And yet, I’m here in a whirlwind by a man who’s as beautiful as a roman god and dark as the scythe himself.

With a mission at stake, I do not have time for this. These unwanted feelings, all the stupid goosebumps that can’t seem to lay off. He continues to make me feel out of place, and I hate it. I hate that I can’t hate him. I narrow my eyes and I yank my hand away.

“We aren’t a team. It’s only temporary. So next time, maybe I’ll just let you get slaughtered.”

He doesn’t care that my entire mood has changed; he seems even more thrilled about it, a mischievous grin on his lips and dark tints shimmering in his gaze.

“Fuck off,” I mutter, purposely pushing past him as I jam the metal into the holster. Once again, he doesn’t even move from the abrasion.

Stepping over men and making my way to the steps, I swallow the brick suffocating my throat. Because although I made the comment of letting him get killed, it seems he knows more than me—it’s a complete lie.