Page 35
Chapter 35 of "Tempting Venom" opens with exciting events: “Good of you to join, Osborn.” I grin up at him, thewords rolling off my... Continue reading!
“Good of you to join, Osborn.” I grin up at him, thewords rolling off my tongue looser than they should. “I’m afraid the stick-breaking ritual is now adjourned.”
Osborn—or his twin. Seriously, he developed one overnight?—stares down at me, unaffected. Now that the helmet is gone, he looks even more inhuman.
Like a vampire. Eyes so creepily dark, almost as if the gray has snuffed out the blue. His hair is short on the sides and has volume at the top, a rebellious strand falling on his forehead.
It’s annoying me right now, that strand. Or maybe it’s his entire face.
I’m thinking it’d look much better with some bruises, a broken nose, and a black eye.
Something needs to be done to disrupt the whole rugged symmetry that’s pissing me off.
There’s a sort of tension that stretches between us, wrapping around my lungs like a chain.
Wait. There’s a chain.
Or a hint of one that’s peeking from the collar of his shirt.
I wonder what the rest of it looks like. Bet it’s ugly.
Itbetterbe ugly.
“Is this you coming to take me up on my offer, Armstrong, hmm?” He leans down, and I realize he’s close.
Too close, actually—and it’s not just his hand bunched in my hair. It’s the way heloomsover me, right behind me, with almost no space between us at all, close enough that I can smell him. Alcohol. Cool oak. Leather.
He always smells like that—leather—even mid-game, drenched in sweat, buried under his gear.
Right now, it’s coming from the beat-up jacket he’s wearing, the scent thick and overwhelming. Like a spark of damnation brushing the back of my neck.
“The offer to knock your teeth out? Sure.” I lift the bottle of alcohol to my mouth, but I’m all tilted back, and my balance isn’t the best, so some of it sloshes and drips down my chin.
And that’s where Osborn’s attention is right now. On my chin. No, maybe a bit higher up?
His stare caresses my skin as if it’s his hands, all thick and big and destabilizing.
My lips tingle, and I get distracted for a second, because his eyes flash in something bright and shiny, and I want to gouge them out, study them for a bit, blind the fuck out of him while I’m at it.
But yeah, not in my current state, because I’m wobbly, my vision is hazy, and I’m barely standing. Some would say mixing alcohol and painkillers isn’t the brightest idea, but maybe that was the whole point.
“The offer was something different, wasn’t it?” His eyes slide to mine, his voice lowering the slightest. “Focus, Armstrong.”
“Hard to do that with you breathing down my neck, jeeper creeper.”
The asshole leans down farther so that his mouth is a few inches from mine. His lips tip up an inch, as if he finds this entire tedious exchange amusing. “Do I distract you?”
“You annoy me.”
“I’m honored.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“I beg to differ.” His breath dances along my jaw, over the wetness of the alcohol, buzzing in my head more than the Jack Daniels. “How about I remind you of the offer?”
“No, thanks, not interested. Speaking of interesting, RIP to your sticks, Osborn. Heard you guys struggle withfunding, so who’s going to replace these for you? So sad. I can help if you get on your knees and beg merealnicely. You have to be convincing, though. No amateur acting will be tolerated. If I like the performance, I might even get you premium sticks to replace your mid ones.”
I’m talking in run-on sentences because he’s breathing down my face in a deep, controlled rhythm. His smooth exhales rush along my skin like the latest fucked-up drug on the market.
Though those little fuckers don’t do shit to me. I’ve tried them before, and they only managed to tickle my demons’ feelings.