Page 11
Chapter 11 of "Tempting Venom" begins with suspenseful moments: My eyes narrow as a wall of muscle whoās built a bit like Kane but... Donāt miss it!
My eyes narrow as a wall of muscle whoās built a bit like Kane but with Judeās height shoves Dicky out of the way. āPosition. Now.ā
āButāā Dicky tries to argue.
āNow, Richardson.ā
The order is nonnegotiable. I donāt even catch his face when he says it, but I hear that low, rumbling voice that hits like a commandment. Whatever it is, itās enough to makeDickyāwhoās twice his size and built like a fridgeāmutter a curse and skate the hell away.
Osborn. Eleven.
Thatās what his jersey says.
So I lied, there actually is a male Osborn heir. Itās this clown.
Marcus Osborn.
Pathetically a nobody.
Certified bastard child.
And comes from the peasant rank.
You know, Stantonville, the shithole town that neighbors our town and Iād rather never visit, because I heard itās full of rats? Yeah, this particular Osborn happens to live here and definitely not on Ravenswood Hill where the founding familiesā mansion sprawls above Graystone Ridge.
Because heās anobody.
Heās not recognized by his paternal family, except for the last name, which is weirdāthey shouldāve removed that, too.
A nobody spawned by Uncle Andrew because he couldnāt keep it in his pants once upon a time. Not that Iām judging, but come on, protection.Condoms. They exist for a reason, and you can find them in a grocery store near you.
Yes, this is an unpaid ad as Iām a firm believer in those plastic balloons. Diseases? Hell no. Spawning a child? Even more of abso-fucking-lutelynot.
Anyway, because a condom didnāt prevent his existence, Osborn stopped my genius plan concerning Dicky before it started.
He turns to face me, a lazy curve settling over his mouth as if heās been expecting me.
What a nuisance.
He blocks my view like a damn wall in motion, his orange jersey glaring under the rink lights with that stupid snarling wolf in the middle. Itās not even subtle. We get itāyouāre the big, bad predator. Congratulations, want a cookie?
Iāve played Osborn beforeāagainst him, I meanābut annoyingly, my provocations didnāt get me inside his head. And it wasnāt for lack of trying.
Heās the Wolvesā wild card whoās always moving everywhere, so I had to cripple him. In the games I played against him in previous seasons, he was always slippery.
If anything, Iād say heās the one who targets me on the ice instead of the other way around. Asshole seems to love checking me into the nearest surface.
Thereās been this strange rivalry going on between us since high school. A type of intensity thatās tucked close to the surface, looming there without spilling over.
But ever since our first college game three years ago, Iāve been feeling a sort ofā¦threatwhenever we face off. As if he intends to fucking devour me. No, just kidding. I canāt be threatened. I do the threatening myself.
During our last game in Vipers Arena, I attempted to get a rise out of him by saying, āDid the rats let you out to play, or did you bribe them?ā
What? Not my best line, but it was a good one, come on.
He just smiled and skated away.
Hesmiled.
The audacity.