Page 142
Chapter 142 of "Tempting Venom" starts with thrilling twists: “I heard Julian talking to Dad the other day,” Jude says. “And apparently, Andrew told... Continue the story!
“I heard Julian talking to Dad the other day,” Jude says. “And apparently, Andrew told Marcus he has until he graduates, then he needs to join the family. It seems that Marcus is resistant to the idea, but he has a weakness that can be wielded against him at any time.”
I perk up. “Which is?”
“His mom. He considers her his only family.” Jude narrows his eyes. “And don’t even think about it, Pres.”
“I’m not thinking about anything!”
“You mean to tell me you won’t try to sleep with her like you did with your stepmother’s best friend just to piss him off?”
I mean, I probably would’ve a few months ago, but my dick seems to have grown a chronic illness called Marcus. “Listen, that was different.” I punch Jude in the chest. “That woman was the one Satan’s lover talked to on the phone when I was a kid. She was laughing and gloating about how she had me under control and said that I was annoyingly clingy. I had to settle scores, and you know me. I collect my debts.”
“At the expense of being beaten practically half to death by your dad’s goon?” Kane asks.
I shrug. “Worth the horrified, disgusted look on Satan’s lover’s face.”
“It won’t be worth it with Osborn,” Jude says.
“Relax. You’re acting like a drama empress.”
“It’s drama queen, Pres.”
“I upgraded you. You’re welcome.”
He shakes his head, but he stops nagging and we finish practicing some drills. Then we go home, to Jude’s place, of course. At least, he and I go—Kane ditches us to go see his girlfriend.
Jude makes sure I take my insomnia meds because I can’t really sleep without them. Never been able to since I was a kid.
You know, because once upon a time, I used to stay up all night, squirming in bed, trembling uncontrollably as horror clogged my throat in the darkness.
The only break came from the glowing stars that stared down at me as I waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
Minutes felt like hours and hours like days as I lay there listening for that unmistakable creak in the door.
The hushed footsteps.
The deep, pungent breaths.
Now, as I stare at the dark ceiling after Jude’s finished being my nurse for the night, I still expect the door to open.
For that creak to slice through my fucked-up brain and start a riot of epic proportions.
Doesn’t matter that I only sleep with my door fully locked, and that I’ve only given the key to three people in case of an emergency: Jude, Kane, and Dad.
If it’s not them, I’d rather die.
Locked or not, I still have nightmares about that door from my childhood room creaking open, a monster rearing its head.
He even frightens the friends I had in the dark. The little stars that started to talk to me because they felt sorry for me.
I hate nighttime.
I hate lying in bed, waiting to sleep.
Not sure how someone can hate something so natural, but I do.