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

A deep voice swirls around my head.

A very familiar rough voice that only softens for me.

My eyes flutter open, adjusting to the dim light illuminating the room. My body’s heavy, and everything aches against the soft sheets beneath me. They’re cool against my skin, smelling faintly of cedarwood and fresh detergent.

Where is this place…?

Recent memories slash through my psyche.

The torture. Kane’s father.

Kane’s words.

Kane.

I startle into a sitting position.

Am I in his old room? It’s surprisingly simple aside from the luxurious cream wallpaper. The furniture is sleek, minimalist—everything sharp edges and clean lines. No clutter, no personal touches, except for the faded scent of him lingering in the air, a mix of something dark and woodsy.

That’s when I see him.

Kane’s standing by the window, staring at the night staking its claim on the Japanese garden while talking on the phone in a low, hushed tone.

A breath spits out of my lungs.

And I breathe.

For the first time since I was cornered by his father, I inhale and exhale a large gulp of air, fill my lungs with it, completely flounder in it.

He’s okay.

He looks like himself—vicious chaos contained in a thread of calm.

“You prepared the boat?” he asks, then listens, his index finger twitching against his thigh. “No crew members, correct.” More listening, more staring out at the horizon. “I’ll be there shortly.”

I pull the soft black sheet to my chin.

The trembling returns.

The realization.

The doomsday feeling.

Kane killed his father. He shot him in the head in a cutthroat, emotionless way. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t think twice as he killed his own father.

For me.

No.

Because of me.

What have I done?

He tilts his head in my direction, his eyes sharp, his expression cold.

My jittery insides quiver, and I feel so small in the vast bed, my emotions jumping all over the place, flaring up and detonating like a box of matches.

“You’re awake.” He speaks slowly, with no emotion.

He’s like that demon from the initiation. The unfeeling monster I couldn’t reach inside of, no matter what I did.

My heartbeat quickens as he walks toward me at a deliberately slow pace, the sound of his footsteps echoing in my chest.

“You feel better?” His words are monotonous. Robotic, even.

I don’t even pay attention to my bandaged wrists or the warm bathrobe covering me. The pain doesn’t matter anymore. Not when he’s looking at me as if I’m a stranger.

“Kane…”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry about your father.”

“I’m not. I would’ve eventually gotten rid of him, but this came earlier than calculated.” He stops at the foot of the bed, both hands in his pockets.

He’s towering over me.

Intimidating.

It makes me tremble, despite my attempts to rein it in, push it down. Put on the façade I wear so well.

But right now, I can’t.

“I believe you ought to be sorry for something different, Dahlia.”

I flinch, my fingers sinking into the sheets.

He knows.

Right. Grant promised to tell him everything.

“I…” No words follow. What am I supposed to say?

Am I even allowed to say anything?

“You’re what?” He seems larger, taller, and nothing like the Kane who held my hand while I goofed around in my hometown.

There’s no carefree energy, no soft looks, and certainly no rare smiles.

But there’s only one thought that buzzes through me.

I don’t want him to hate me.

I don’t want to lose him.

“Hear me out?” My voice is low in the silence, broken.

Lightning brightens up the sky and spills into the room, casting a menacing shadow on Kane’s face. Rain patters before it pours, its rivulets trickling down the window.

“I’m listening.”

There’s no encouragement, no softness. Only a depressing emotionless voice. But at least he’s willing to give me a chance to explain myself,

“For over eight years, Vi’s been the only person tethering me to life. She’s my world and the reason I’ve survived thus far.” My voice is still quiet and withdrawn. “So when she was attacked, I watched my world shatter before my eyes. I swore to exact revenge. I promised I’d make whoever was responsible pay, no matter what. And since my only connection to life was taken away, I felt invincible. Like I had nothing to lose.”

“Nothing to lose,” he repeats slowly.

“Yeah. So when I went through her journal and found an entry where she described being followed by suspicious men, and she drew pictures of the rings with unintelligible symbols they wore and mentioned the Vipers, I dug deeper and found out about Vencor. I remembered when I went out with Marcus that he was always rumored to come from a very influential family that belongs to a secret society, but I also knew he was never part of the family, so I didn’t get close to him again, not to mention he even tried to share me with his friends⁠—”

“He shared you?” His jaw tics, his finger twitching.

“No, he didn’t get the chance. I left and broke up with him. I didn’t sleep with him either. He’s nothing in the great scheme of things, to be honest. But he did mention that most of the Vipers are rotten to the core and I heard rumors that many are in Vencor.”

“So you got close to me to achieve your vengeance.”

“No,” I blurt, then wince. “I mean, yes. That was the goal at the start, but I soon realized you couldn’t have possibly let something like Vi’s attack happen. I admit that I wanted you to get me into Vencor so I could investigate and find clues, but you didn’t allow that anyway. But really, I didn’t suspect you. If anything, the more time I spent with you, the more the lines blurred, and I couldn’t control my emotions.”

“Did you stop suspecting me before or after you extracted my and the team’s DNA?”

I gulp. He knows.

Of course he knows.

“I was only searching for Vi’s murderer. I…didn’t mean to harm anyone.”

“But you did, Dahlia.” A muscle jumps in his jaw. “Why the fuck would you leave my side in that town? Why the fuck wouldn’t you let me know that Grant and Julian threatened you? That your sister was kidnapped? Why the fuck did you keep all of that to yourself?”

“Because I didn’t want you to get hurt!” I shout, my vision blurry. “Because your father said he’d never let me see my sister again. Vi… Where is she?”

“She’s somewhere safe, but this isn’t about her.” He rounds the bed and grabs my chin. His skin is both warm and cold. Gentle but commanding. “This is about your reckless fucking actions that nearly got you killed. Do you have a death wish?”

“Of course not. You think I wasn’t scared? Because I was. I was so scared, I could barely breathe, but do you know what terrified me more? The fear of losing Vi or you.”

“Then you should’ve never left my side.” His cool is chipping, ripping at the seams, revealing his undiluted chaos beneath the calm.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a fucking choice.” His fingers dig into my jaw, the pads probably bruising the skin, but it doesn’t matter.

Because I see it. Deep in his eyes.

Turbulent blue.

A color I’ve never seen in them before.

Worry mixed with fear.

I clutch his bare arm, my skin electrifying at the touch, but I still hold on to my courage as I let the blanket fall, then shift to my knees.

His grip loosens around my jaw, enough to allow me some movement, and I brush my lips against his, softly, tentatively.

They twitch. His jaw flexes, but he remains still, so still, I think he’s a statue. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I grab on to that courage, my breath escaping in a fractured rhythm.

This is the first time I’ve wanted something with all my broken parts. The first time I’m willing to compromise.

To even let go of the one thing that’s kept me going since Vi’s attack.

My pride.

“When we separated at the bridge, I regretted not kissing you.” My words are only interrupted by a flash of lightning and the pattering of rain. “I regretted not holding on to you one final time. I know you probably won’t forgive me, and that’s okay. You’re angry, so take it out on me. If you want me to run, I’ll run.”

“Shut up, Dahlia.”

“I’ll make it harder to catch me, I promise. Just one more time⁠—”

“I said.” He pushes me back against the bed, the mattress creaking under his weight as he straddles me, his hand gripping my bathrobe’s belt. “Shut the fuck up.”

My heart trembles. And so does my entire body.

I arch my back, my fingers reaching for his shirt, but he’s already taken it off. It’s somewhere on the floor now, and all I can focus on are the hard lines of his muscles.

The proportionate cut planes of his chest and stomach, the dark ink that slips from his side to his abs, the snake’s head at his collarbone, the scars crisscrossing his chest.

He’s a sight to behold. An enigma caught between morbid ruthlessness and authoritative composure.

I place a trembling hand on a scar as if I can erase it, as if I can cast a spell and make all the pain disappear.

A sharp inhale expands his chest, inflating it against my hand. But he doesn’t remove it. Doesn’t scold me for daring to touch the sun.

It still burns, but that’s okay. I can handle him.

Kane undoes the belt of my robe in one ruthless movement, and it slips open, exposing my nakedness. My nipples are hard and perky; my breasts feel swollen.

All because of his gaze.

“Take it out on you,” he repeats, his voice tense, his chest heaving as he unzips his jeans, lifts himself, then removes and throws them and his boxer briefs on the floor to join his shirt.

“Yeah.” I lift my other hand to his face, but this time, he grabs it and slams it over my head on the pillow.

But he doesn’t hold my injured wrist and, instead, flattens his palm against mine.

As he leans down, his chest grazes my nipples, and I let out a small moan of need.

Of something much deeper than need.

“There are a lot of things to take out on you, wildflower, so what should we start with?” He wraps his hand around my throat, angles my head to the side, and bites on my earlobe. “Your lies?”

My heart jolts, a flux of both fear and pleasure rushing inside me. Kane sinks his teeth into my jaw, the crook of my neck, my shoulder, my collarbone. My nipples.

Everywhere.

I scream, trying to grab onto him.

“Your betrayal?”

He sweeps his tongue against my tortured nipple and I wiggle, welcoming the pleasurable feeling, but then he bites again. “Your lack of confidence in me?”

I arch my back, my lower stomach rubbing against his hard cock.

A stickiness trickles between my thighs, and I clench them together in search of some friction.

But he releases my hand and slaps my thighs apart, settling his massive weight between them as he continues to suck and bite my nipple.

Every lick of his tongue is a zap of pleasure to my throbbing pussy, and every bite is a reminder that this isn’t only about pleasure. It’s not even part of our twisted games.

It’s a punishment.

One I’m willing to take.

He bites a trail down to my stomach, nibbling and sucking on the soft skin until he reaches my pussy.

I throw my head back as his lips wrap around my clit, his tongue rolling and twisting, his teeth slightly nibbling.

Slick sweat covers my body as I writhe, and although the bathrobe is soft, it feels rough on my skin.

My fingers sink into his hair, pushing, clenching. His grip on my throat increases with his rhythm, making me tighten and grow slicker.

More turned on than I thought would ever be possible.

I’m going to come.

I’m going to come all over his mouth.

Just when the wave is about to overtake me, Kane lifts his head, his lips still smeared with my arousal as he releases my throat. “So tell me, Dahlia. Where should I start?”

I bite my lower lip to keep from groaning in protest.

This isn’t about me.

I shouldn’t be mad.

And yet…

I’m panting, trying to ignore the pulsing in my pussy. The primal need to rub myself all over his face and come.

“We should start here, don’t you think?” He sits on his haunches and his large palms cover my hips as he roughly slides me forward and maneuvers my legs onto his right shoulder until his cock is nudging at my pussy.

I nod, grabbing on to the sheets. A sting of pleasure goes through me as he shallowly thrusts in my opening. With every push, I go slack, expecting him to slam in as usual, but he doesn’t.

My pussy’s so wet, the third time he thrusts shallowly, I tighten and my eyes roll back on a groan.

The orgasm is sharp and powerful, making my legs shake on his shoulder. I love the contrast of my tan skin against his lighter tone, the way his shoulder flexes, providing support against my curled toes.

“You’re coming already?” he tsks, slapping his cock against my sensitive clit. “Your cunt is that greedy for my cock, huh?”

I whimper as the remnants of the orgasm quake through me, or maybe it’s a brand-new one bleeding into the previous one.

“You know what I think?” He plunges his cock into my wet slit, eliciting electric jolts from the base of my belly. “I think I should fuck your virgin ass, Dahlia. I should stuff my cock into this tight hole and claim you as mine once and for all.”

He slides my wetness to my back hole, spits on his hand, then slides it between my ass cheeks and plunges his middle finger into my tight channel.

I groan, my back arching as he adds another finger, thrusting, loosening me up.

Kane has often played with my ass when he’s fucked me. The last time he did this—a few days ago—he fucked me with three fingers.

It was strange and hurt in the beginning, but it always made me come. But then again, I love the way Kane dominates me, no matter what he does.

I’m a bit apprehensive about anal. His cock is way bigger than his three fingers, but I can handle him.

I’m the only one who can handle him.

He angles me up so only my head and upper shoulders are on the mattress, spits on my back hole again, then rams a third finger in.

My gasp echoes in the air, my fractured breaths synching with the pattering of the rain.

“You’re still so tight, no matter how much I play with you.” He slaps my ass cheek. “How are you going to fit my cock here, Dahlia?”

I lather up his hard cock that’s already covered with my juices. Precum covers my hands, and I use it to lube him up more.

“Mmm. That’s it.” He thrusts in my hand while he pumps his fingers inside me. “Make my cock nice and wet so I can fuck your ass.”

My pussy throbs and I guide him to my back hole.

“So impatient.” He pulls out his fingers. “Want me to fuck you when you’re barely ready? It’ll hurt.”

“I like it when it hurts.”

“You’re trembling.”

“It’s okay. It’s you.”noveldrama

“It’s me,” he growls the words. “If it’s me, you’ll let me do whatever the fuck I want with you, wildflower? You like it when I do whatever the fuck I please, don’t you? Your cunt becomes so wet and compliant, and you turn into clay in my fucking hands. Because no one can give you what I can. No one but me can fucking own you.”

My heart’s beating fast because he’s breathing harshly. Sweat shines on his toned muscles, and his eyes are so blue, his pupils so blown up, I can see my reflection in them.

“You’re right.” I smile as tears gather in my eyes. “No one but you can own me.”

Because I’ve never loved anyone but him.

And I don’t think I ever will.

The reason I want him so much isn’t only because of the sex. It’s because I feel the strongest connection when his body fuses with mine.

It’s like I can touch his soul.

And I think I do, because a harsh breath expels out of him and he speaks in a rough tone. “Say it again.”

“You’re right?”

“No, the part that no one but me can own you.”

“No one. I’m yours. Only yours.”

“Only mine.” His big hands wrap around my waist.

He wants to flip me on my stomach, I realize.

No. No, not now.

I clutch his arm, my palms trembling on his skin, and I shake my head, my eyes wide, my cheeks heated. “No.”

“No?”

“I want to see your face.”

He doesn’t release me and I start to panic, but I whisper, “Please.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, then keeps one arm around my waist and parts my ass cheeks with the other hand, nudging his cock against my hole.

And then he enters.

It’s slow. Agonizingly slow, and it feels full.

So damn full, I think I’ll burst.

Oh fuck. I feel my ass stretching, accommodating, greedily sucking him in.

“Relax,” he strains, his tone rough, his muscles taut. “I barely managed to get the tip in and you’re tightening up. Do you want to break my cock?”

Oh fuck.

Oh shit.

That was only the tip?

I’m sweating profusely, my fingers clawing at his lean waist for leverage, but I don’t think I can do it.

“Relax your ass for me.” He kneads the cheek, then slaps it. “You’ve taken my cock in your cunt; you can take it here as well.”

My pussy clenches and I moan, then go still.

“You like it when I spank your little ass?” Slap. “That’s it. You’re doing so well. Good girl.”

My throat closes up and my heart swells at his words.

I’m so turned on, I barely feel him thrusting in a bit more. It hurts. Yes, there’s pressure and stretching and a sting of pain, but I like it.

The best sex has always been a mixture of pain and pleasure for me. A combination only Kane does this well. There’s always enough of both to keep me on my toes. Enough to make me wet and expectant.

Thrilled.

Enamored.

So I relax for him, wiggling my hips and letting him slide farther in.

“Fuck.” His biceps bulge, his fingers sinking into my stomach, grounding me in place. “You’re taking my cock so well, wildflower. You’re stretching to swallow me deeper and deeper.”

I moan, stroking his sides, staring at him through my blurry vision.

Kane doesn’t break eye contact as he starts moving inside me, his cock sliding gently in my tight channel. There’s nothing of his usual brutality. No slamming. No fucking like he hates me.

And that makes me wetter, my wiggling more frantic, my heart soaring so high, I think I’ll never come down. So I roll my hips and meet his every thrust with renewed frenzy.

“Slow down.” He slaps my ass cheek again, the sting making me a puddle. “You’ll hurt yourself on my cock.”

“Fuck me like usual,” I gasp on a moan, still wiggling against him.

“I won’t fuck your ass like I fucked your cunt the first time.” Slap. “Stop moving.”

My limbs go still at the command, and I see it then.

The look in his lust-filled, enlarged pupils.

He doesn’t want to hurt me. He didn’t care the first time in that tunnel, but now, he does.

Now, he moves slowly, going deeper but unhurriedly.

He’s keeping himself in check, under control, the veins in his neck throbbing with tension, his hair damp. A droplet of sweat falls on my nose and he grunts.

But he doesn’t ram into me.

Doesn’t slam harder.

Instead, he watches for my body’s signals, and only when I relax, only when I accommodate him, he picks up his pace.

Gradually.

Slowly.

Treating me like a treasured flower instead of the wildflower he’s always called me.

Damn it.

I think I’m falling in love with him harder than I ever thought possible.

A zap of pleasure slashes through me, and my head becomes foggy.

My hips roll, matching his rhythm, going gently, so gently, and tears slide down my cheeks.

Kane leans forward, darts his tongue out, and licks those tears, swallowing them, leaving a warm stickiness on my cheeks.

“Why are you crying?” he grunts. “Does it hurt?”

“No. It feels so good. It’s the tears that turn you on.”

He chuckles against my mouth, his teeth grazing the corner of my lips before he sucks them into his mouth.

Kane kisses me as deeply as he fucks me, but it’s at a leisurely pace, taking his time to nibble on my lips, play with my tongue.

And when his hand that’s around my waist reaches down to my clit, I’m a goner. I can’t last long.

Not when he fucks me as if his body is telling me things. Things I don’t understand but still fall for anyway.

Maybe it’s also his form of goodbye.

Or maybe, just maybe, he’s ruining me for other men.

Because no one can touch me like he does.

Kiss me like he does.

Make me feel safe like he does.

I moan in his mouth as the orgasm rips through me, lighting me on fire.

My arms wrap around his neck, my nails clawing at his back at those scars, wanting them gone, but also loving him more because of them.

Because he survived them.

This man killed two men before my eyes not too long ago. One of them his father.

And I still shatter in his arms like I never have with anyone.

Kane’s rhythm picks up, thrusting at a commanding pace. Maybe it’s because I’m still hazy from the orgasm, but it doesn’t hurt.

Yes, I feel full.

So full, I think he’ll burst out of my stomach, but it’s the good kind of fullness.

I hold on to him tighter, hugging him to me as he buries his head in the crook of my neck, and then warmth fills my ass.

The world goes still for a moment.

Our harsh breaths echoing in the air, his body wrapped all over mine, his cock throbbing inside me.

My fingers stroke his rich brown strands, my eyes half open, my heart completely full.

I love you, I want to say.

But the words get stuck in my throat.

Though he said I’m only his, the fear that he’ll never get over my betrayal paralyzes me.

So I’d rather not make a fool of myself.

My hand falls to my side and I close my eyes to commit him to memory.

His warmth, his breaths, his loudly beating heart, his scent. His everything.

“Don’t sleep yet.” His husky voice echoes in the air. “I’m not done with you.”

My eyes blink open and Kane pulls out, his cum trickling out of me and onto the bed. I want to talk to him some more. I want to ask a lot of questions, but I want to bask in this moment for a while longer.

I want to just live in this moment.

He lifts me up in one smooth movement, and I squeal as I wrap my arms and legs around his neck and waist. He walks me to the shower with sure strides while I’m all over him.

“Kane?” I breathe, half exhausted, half thrilled.

“I’m going to fuck my cunt. This time, it’ll be rough.”

And then he does exactly as he promised.

And I wish this moment would never end.

I wish reality would never come.