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

My heartbeat is steady as I lurk in the shadows of my mother’s extravagant garden.noveldrama

No one is here.

In the garden.

Or the house.

I dismissed the entire staff and security team after my mother went on an international trip for the mental health charity she’s now spending most of her time—and money—on.

Dahlia doesn’t know that, though.

She thinks we’re having a family dinner and is probably dolling herself up to look her best.

But I have a surprise in store.

The garden is cloaked in profound silence as I patiently wait.

Snow blankets the ground, the white layers softening the contours of the stone lanterns and bridges, turning the sharp pond edges into gentle mounds.

The bare branches of the cherry trees stretch toward the dusky sky, their bony figures etched against hues of deepening indigo and violet.

Tires scrunch against the gravel in the distance before I hear her soft voice, low, barely audible in the wind as she probably thanks Samuel and interrogates him.

He hates when she interrogates him.

And she seems to enjoy egging him on.

The tires screech again, and Samuel disappears like the rest of the staff.

So it’s only us.

I linger behind a towering black pine, its needles dusted with frost, offering just enough concealment. Each breath is a sharp inhale of icy clarity that fills my lungs, then escapes as a faint cloud.

The crunch of boots on snow reaches me before I make out her silhouette. Dahlia’s wrapped in a beige winter coat and a furry hat covers her head, but her brown locks fall in a bouncy rhythm on either side of her shoulders.

Lanterns flicker to life along the winding path as she walks, their warm glow casting elongated shadows that dance across the snow. She stops by the koi pond that lies still, a thin veil of ice forming at the edges, and waves. “Hi, guys. Sora, did you miss me, you bad boy?”

Dahlia and her freaking recent habit of talking to fish. Mother’s influence—and part of their bonding, apparently, because they’re planning to go koi fish shopping in Asia soon.

The pale light catches in Dahlia’s hair, a fleeting shimmer as she turns her head to take in her surroundings. Her breath forms delicate plumes that linger before fading away.

The subtle rustle of her clothing brushes against the silence. “Kane?”

She gets closer, like a magnet, as if knowing exactly where I am. The cold brings a faint flush to her cheeks, and the scent of jasmine reaches me—a rare warmth amidst the winter chill.

My gaze sharpens, tracking her movement between the slender trunks of bamboo that sway ever so slightly in the evening breeze.

I remain still, the rough bark of the pine pressing against my back, and anticipation coils tight within me.

Controlled tension.

But also lawless.

As she moves closer, the details sharpen—the way her eyelashes catch tiny crystals of snow, the almost imperceptible curve of a smile tugging at her lips.

My little wildflower is humming with excitement for when I’ll ambush her.

Craving it.

Trembling for it, even.

This is why Dahlia is the only one for me.

She’s able to embrace both my tame and unhinged sides. She’s always along for the ride. Even demanding the ride when I think she could use some rest.

This woman was fucking made for me.

I don’t care if we’re worlds apart. If we weren’t born in the same world or taught the same manners.

She’s mine.

Always.

I step forward, breaking free from the shadows.

Dahlia freezes at the soft crunch beneath my boot, but she doesn’t turn around.

No.

She knows better than that.

A low squeal escapes her as she runs, leaving her footsteps in the snow, deep and uncontrolled.

“I swear to God, Kane!” she screams as she darts between the trees. “It’s freezing.”

“And yet you’re still running.” I’m barely jogging behind her, letting her take the lead.

“All right, all right. I’m as crazy as you, but let’s at least go inside.”

I grab her by the waist, fully lifting her off the ground, and she yelps, then kicks her feet.

My prey knows how to fight me.

She kicks and screams.

She even bites me.

Not only is my Dahlia a fighter, but she also knows exactly how to turn me on. Rubbing her ass all over my cock and sliding her hands along my arms, my thighs.

Anywhere she can reach.

I carry her to the enclosed glass house overlooking the garden.

Warmth instantly hits us and dozens of dim lanterns automatically shine, bathing the large bed in a soft light.

Dahlia freezes for a second and I throw her on the bed and toss away my jacket, then my T-shirt. She watches me with hooded eyes as she gets rid of her coat, revealing a little white knitted dress that complements her tanned skin tone.

When I kick my boots off, she does the same, and then I’m removing her dress while she’s unbuttoning my jeans.

“Don’t touch me,” she murmurs as she frees my cock and slides it in her mouth, her deep eyes, now the color of a forest, boring into mine.

She releases me with a pop, and I think I’ll fucking come here and now.

I pull her to me using her bra. “What did you just say?”

“Don’t touch me, asshole.”

The bra rips and I pinch both of her nipples. A moan spills from her lungs and I push her back, slapping her bare pussy.

“Is that why you came ready to be fucked? Your cunt is soaking wet, so I think it wants me to touch you.”

Her moans of pleasure echo in the air as I slide my cock against her slit.

Then I grab her by the hair, lift her up, and bring her down on my hard cock.

Dahlia’s arms curl around my shoulders, and her face buries in the crook of my neck.

I thrust deep and she rolls her hips, meeting me stroke for stroke.

When I suck on her shoulder, she bites my neck, leaving her own mark and branding me for good.

“You’re riding my cock so well, wildflower.” I stroke her hair, whispering in her ear, “Your cunt was made for me.”

“Show me.” She sucks on my earlobe. “Harder.”

“Fuck.” I fist her hair, then wrench her head back and kiss her deep as I go harder.

Faster.

Until she’s bouncing on my cock and speaking in unintelligible syllables.

I can be inside this woman every day, three times a day like a fucking meal, and I still can’t get enough.

She trembles, holding on to me tighter, and I go deeper, knowing how much she loves it.

What I love, however, is hearing her scream my name as she shatters around my cock.

Her body trembling, her lips reaching mine, kissing and whispering my name.

I don’t last long, thrusting into her warm cunt a few more times before I fill her up with my cum.

One day, I’ll fill her up with my baby. Babies, plural. And she’ll be mine forever.

Our family will be the break from the past for the both of us.

We’ll never leave our kids in a cold world on their own, and we certainly won’t be torturing emotions out of them.

“I love you,” she whispers, panting as she looks at me with those eyes, a mixture of yellow and green. “I love you so much, Kane.”

“I love you, too, Dahlia.” Wrapping an arm around her back, I reach under the pillow and produce a red velvet box, then open it. “Be my wife. My Mrs. Davenport who’ll join me in giving the world the middle finger.”

Her eyes widen as she stares between my face and the blinding ring that matches her eye color. A perfectly imperfect mismatch of green, brown, and yellow.

A rare gemstone that was worth every cent.

“Oh my God. This is stunning.”

“Is that a yes? Actually, you don’t get to refuse.”

“I won’t. You’re stuck with me.” A shine glints in her eyes as she offers me her hand. “I’ll have no other man but you, Kane. You have my heart, body, and soul.”

“And you have mine.”

As I slide the ring onto her finger, she kisses me while smiling.

And crying.

And I lick those tears.

Happy tears.

The only tears Dahlia will ever shed from now on.

Because she’s my world. And I’ll burn anyone who comes close to it.