Sweet Touch of Venom (Lethal Love #1)

32. Venom

Chapter 32

Venom

Location:

The big arena

Operation: Don’t lose.

M y fingers glide against the metal under my white glove. Feeling the thin blade against the tips. Who would’ve thought I would have to fight this man ape to win a spot in my own room? No matter the circumstances, I am beyond excited. A part of my solitude broke apart for this task. It’s becoming?…

Fun.

Although it shouldn’t. The only thing I am dreading is touching those delicious lips I fantasize about tasting. That’s why I need to win.

“He’s going to win,” Wicked snarls at me with an evil grin.

I send her a dry look, noticing she’s here and other people. I’m in the back room, but I can hear the excited chatters from behind the walls. Shit. What did he call the whole academy here?

“Maybe you can replace his spot,” I say, giving a devious smile.

She doesn’t retaliate with getting in my face. She only smirks and walks to me, her evil facade dropping. For a split second, I think she’s getting ready to pull a sneak attack on me, so I raise my sabre, steadying it just in case.

She catches the drift and raises her hands slightly. “I only want to say thank you.”

I one up her, lowering the sword. “Why?”

“Ronan told me you saved him. So, thank you.” She lowers her hands again, placing them on her hips.

He told her that?

I look around, making sure there’s no hidden camera because is this the same girl who had it out for me since day one? I began placing my hair into a tight ponytail to fit in the sabre mask.

“No need to thank me.” I ignore the look she gives me.

“Okay. I still appreciate it. He’s—” she threads her hand through her hair, making it flow behind her like a wave, “—like a brother to me.” Her voice merely whispers with so much sentiment.

I understand Ronan means a lot to many. And sadly, I only find that more attractive about him. That’s why when I win, I can rid myself of his presence.

Mal’s mood changes in a second. “So good luck! You’re gonna need it.” She walks out with a sly grin, signifying I’m doomed or something.

Well, I’m not.

I inhale a breath, strolling out of the room with my chin held high. I’ve been fighting since I was eighteen, and I won’t lose now. I stroll through the dark archway coming to the large arena—the cool breeze nicking my cheeks tells me I am close. I step out further and the sky is indigo, but still carrying those thick clouds. The sun isn’t bright, but the light from the milky blue sky is enough to glimpse the seats filled with people ranging from mercenaries and rebels to rampages and riots.

Shit .

The last time I fought in front of a crowd was when I had to go against the biggest student in combat school, and let’s say I left with a bulging eye socket.

That was also the last time it ever happened. The next time we fought, I punched him so much that his jaw nearly broke.

I swirl my wrist around, the thin blade making whooshing sounds in the air. The pebbles under my shoes are drowning in the sounds of loud whispers and thumping feet.

Then the two doors to the other end burst wide open and in comes Ronan.

My heart flies to my throat, beating hard in my pipes. He swaggers in with the walk of majesty and confidence of a ruler. He holds his mask under his arm and his sword in his left hand. He has his dark, wavy hair pushed back, slick onto his scalp, with a straight face that can make your legs shake. I continue twirling my sword, staring at him walking into the room, owning it properly because people literally worship him.

He narrows a dark gaze at me, the sounds and noise zoning out as he comes closer and closer to me, matching the harsh thud of my throat; the noise becomes muffled and incoherent as he approaches me.

He fixes his white glove, looking me directly in my face as usual. He looks magnificent in all white. Like a dark angel sent to destroy the world.

“See something you like?” His voice is thick and sultry, like hot melted chocolate dripping off a spoon.

I lick my dry lips, looking at my sword, then back at him. “No. Only the image of your devastated face when I beat you.” I swirl the knife, stepping forward, closing in the gap between us. I hood my eyes up at him, nipping my lower lip. “You know. It’s going to be terrible for your students to see their headman bowing to a woman.”

He cracks a grin, slowly lowering his gaze to me. “That’s where you’re wrong, my little snake. I’ll bow down to you anytime.”

My breath catches, causing the sword to slip between my fingers and nearly drop to the ground. He returns another satisfied smile to me before stepping back, stare fixed on me.

He’s enjoying getting under my skin this way. Loving the fact I’m almost weak to him. I won’t prove it.

We stand a few feet from each other, reading our stance. Wicked Mal at the end of the arena standings with one hand raised.

“Three minutes!” she shouts, her voice echoing into the filled faculty. “LET THE GORE BEGIN!”

I go into fight mode, shielding my face with the mask. Raising my hand and extending the sword, I point it at Ronan, who’s in the same stance. Both of us walk with one foot over the other, studying each other, sure to see the blade. My breath is hot inside the metal mask. Then I lunge forward, aiming for his thigh, but Ronan quickly acts like a tiger, blocking it. One arm is behind his back like it doesn’t take effort for him. He moves forward, hitting my waist with the point tip; I sneer to myself. Crap.

Moving again, I go fierce, doing a three-hit point. Hitting his shoulder, chest, and stomach. He then comes back, lunging smoothly, hitting my sword to get to my stomach twice and waist.

“You think you can do this,” Ronan says tauntingly, attempting to aim at my arm.

“Can you?” I grin as I block him, doubling back. I breathe harder, my face hot. “How do you take your loss? Do you take it like a man or stomp off like a sore loser?” I walk slowly, watching his blade.

He chuckles, stancing in the opposite direction. “I wonder how your lips taste when I’m shutting you up.”

My chest heaves. “Not happening!” I lurch forward, but he’s quick, abnormally quick. He connects with my launch, swiping and flailing. I block as many hits as I can until we are both swirling swords around hitting the metal so neither of us loses.

“You’re very eager to win,” he says breathlessly as we fight.

“I can say the same for you. But bad news, Headman . The only lips you’ll be touching is the ground where I stand,” I hiss, swiping at his mask and hitting right along the metal.

Four points for me. Eleven more. He growls, grabbing at it and tossing it off.

My stomach shoots into the sky, taking in the look of a madman. His hair is slick to his face; that only makes my venom come out more. So, I throw mine off as well, my band coming with it, so my hair can flow freely from the tight ass ponytail withholding it.

I apply a devious smile on my mouth. “No need to get frustrated, darling.”

“Frustrated? I’m getting warmed up, baby.” He smirks, narrowing his eyes, the blackness popping out more.

And that said it all. Don’t speak so soon.

His sword moves swiftly, swiping in my face, but I block quickly. I lurch back, spinning and nearly swiping his cheek. He beams, the carnal in his smile fixing into a deadly leer.

“You think you can beat me?” His voice booms, and he licks his lips, steadying his prance.

I toss my hair over my shoulder from the heat. The cool air is doing nothing for me. “Don’t distract me, asshole.”

I push my sabre forward to catch his shoulder, but not fast enough; he curves around my sword, swiping my arm and thigh.

I quickly aim for his chest and leg before he bests me, but he’s faster and connects, hitting my waist and arms. Giving him ten points total.

No.

“Fuck,” I hiss. My heart rate picks up, understanding where this is going. He doesn’t even need to stand in the stance anymore. He looks at me with the determination of a feral man seeking his food so he can feast all night and be full for the winter.

That horrifies me. So, I fly at him, my sword swiping at any part that can hit him. He blocks most of the hits with a sick grin. Until it hit, sliding lightly against his cheek, the blood spilling from the abrasion. He pauses, wiping his thumb on the slice and bringing it to his vision.

The crowd gasps, the pounding of their feet growing in strident echoes. Loud and thunderous.

The creepiest smile forms as he lifts his thumb to his lips, flicking his tongue with a slow, methodical lick.

Sicko.

I step back, twisting my face in disgust and intrigue. I am so fucked.

“Playing dirty, huh?” He strides slowly in the opposite direction while I go the other.

“I came to win.” I go back into stance, sticking out my sword.

He shrugs. “Fair. I hope you can handle what comes next.” His voice emanates with warning, sending chills down my spine.

The crowd screams in pure excitement at how this fight went completely left. The heavy darkness clouds around his large frame. I don’t show that I’m nervous, but inside I am rattling, like someone playing drums with my bones.

He moves hard and fast toward me, not stopping until he hits every part of my body. I’m sure he even hit my foot. I blocked as many as I could, but he’s good. Too good. By then, he’s already swiped my sword out of my hand, the clattering metal hitting the ground.

“Shit,” I grit. I stand there as the crowd rises and feet stomping like an elephant stampede.

Ronan only steps back with a sly grin on his face, his chin raised, showing his thick neck and the bulge of his Adam’s apple. Sweat is glistening off his forehead, and my breath is heavy, my chest rising and falling. I’m realizing what this means.

I failed. Miserably.

“Headman wins, fifteen to ten!” Wicked Mal shouts proudly, looking along in the arena. The entire miniature stadium cheers, some even placing up the symbol G; I can’t even be angry at their devotion. I’m only mad at myself. Because now I am helpless and subjected to him. It’s not like I didn’t agree with it.

“I want to go again!” I shout, reaching down to pick up my sword. Now I’m the sore loser.

Ronan laughs. Actually, laughs. It is a shot to my pride. “Why? I’ll only beat you again. And then you’ll have to give me something more.” This time he says it low enough for me to hear. My gaze shoots to his, and it's flashing with impending dark desire. I don't want to understand his meaning behind that, so look away, swallowing. My heart is pounding from the fight—and also the idea of his mouth on mine. I haven’t kissed a man in a long time, and if I did, it was never enjoyable. I was only heightening the mood for sex. So maybe this will be the same.

“How do you want to do this?” I cross my arms, putting my weight on one side.

Ronan nods to the door, and I thought he meant for me to leave, but I was wrong. All the people began moving from the stands one by one, exiting the room like an army of ants.

“Sorry you lost, Cinderella,” Wicked Mal says, walking past me with a smirk on her evil face.

Why did I agree with this?

Ronan and I stand in the middle of the enormous area, now cleared of onlookers.

The crunching sounds of his boots scratch beneath the tanned gravel as he slowly approaches me. He inches his gloves off before flinging them to the ground.

It’s dark, lethal. My breath releases shakily… Sexy.

My hands began sweating in the gloves, my poor heart quivering against my chest. I’ve never been more nervous in my life. However, I can’t help feeling an immense pressure deep in the V of my thighs. My back hits something hard until I realize I’ve been backing up this entire time. I quickly remove my gloves, dropping them as well.

“You can’t run from me, Anita,” he drools ominously, his frame is shadowing over, and I become swallowed by his silhouette. He places both hands beside my face, trapping me like a Venus flytrap. There’s no escaping him now. “A deal’s a deal.”

I reluctantly lick my lips, swallowing, but it doesn’t help. “I never lose, so you must’ve cheated in some way.”

He reaches for my curls, grabbing a hunk, and bringing it to his nose. He inhales deeply as if it's a drug he’s always needed, his eyes closing slowly. I watch as he opens back and wraps a strand around his finger. “You can’t cheat when you’re the teacher.” He cracks a smile.

My beating heart drops. Of course, he’s the teacher, his skill was superb. He played me all along. And I fell right into the trap. “You knew I was going to fail,” I breathe out, my hand flat on the wall.

He tilts his head, tugging at the strand. “If I admit it, would it make you feel better?”

“From the jump, I knew I was doomed.” I walked right into it. Clever man.

I observe him lick his lips, my mouth watering at the soft, lushness of them.

His other hand slides down over my collarbone, and I instantly tense from the graze of his rough hands drifting upon my skin. It roams up my neck, then to my chin, resting on my jaw. My mouth parts as his thumb glides smoothly over my lips, I shudder again, my breath picking up.

I lift my chin, sucking in a breath. The warmth from his large hands causes tiny bumps to form, pricking on my skin, sending flutters through my body. I gaze at him; he stares at my lips, continuing his thumb tease.

“You have beautiful lips,” he says faintly, narrowing in further, his breath shaky.

Then he wraps his hand around my throat. My toes tingle in delight. There are parts of me that love when he wraps his fingers around my neck, like in one move he can press harder, choking me until I come.

“I can feel your pulse. Are you nervous, little snake?” He lowers his head, coming closer to my lips, hovering. The heat from his delicious mouth suffocating me worse than the hold on my neck.

“Just get it over with.”

He grins again, snatching another strand and twisting it in his fingers. “Don’t pretend, Anita. You know you want this just as bad as I do.”

I swallow the bulge. “I don’t.” My chest raises higher, gathering a little air in hopes of not sucking in his air too.

“Stop with your lies. It’s beneath you.”

I look down away from his burning gaze, biting down on my jaw.

“I see the way you look at me,” he says coolly, gathering more hair to wrap and twist in his finger. I continue to eye the ground, not daring to see him. “You look at me with so much hate and disgust. Hating that, you imagine what it would feel like to kiss me. To fuck me.” My breath catches. “Tell me,” he whispers. “Does it make you sick to your stomach, hating that you want me.”

“Enough,” I grit, finally raising my eyes back to him. “Are we doing this or not?” The grip on my neck twitching like he wants to squeeze the living shit out of it. I’m not as confident as I seem. My fingers tremble against the wall, the sweat making it slip on the paint.

He straightens himself, not letting go of his grasp. His eyes darken, zooming into my lips once more. My heart is beating so hard it physically hurts. I’m afraid it may break free and run for the hills. It’s so harsh, my cheeks and jaw tighten.

I glance at the slice on his cheek, next to the one that’s already there. The red liquid slowly trickles down; that’s when a murky dimness covers his eyes, a sinister smile coming to his lips. He releases my neck, bringing the pad of his thumb to the flesh. He wipes and glances at it. Then slowly back at me. My pulse rises, waiting for something. Anything.

“Not many get to do this. No one draws blood from me.” He brings his thumb to my peripheral.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

His grin slowly falls, heat in his eyes, the threat in his stare. “Then you’ll be the first to taste it.”

Before I can react, his thumb is pushing on my lower lip, smearing his crimson on the wet brim. I gasp harshly, widening my eyes. I could’ve gagged and spit it in his face. But I don’t; my clit throbs between my thighs. My body reacts differently to the disgusting act. I’m aroused by something I shouldn’t like. His lips part slightly, his tongue at the tip of his teeth, as he sticks his thumb between my molars, touching my tongue and wiping it all around it. His honey eyes are heavy and hazy with lust, conducting his own sick act.

The salty, metallic taste of it overpowers my palette. I am beginning to understand the only reason I would allow this, to get an odd pleasure from the taste of his blood, is because…

It’s his .