Venom: A Dark Retelling

by Dee Garcia

  He’s not. I know he’s not.

  But I’m still angry with him.

  Having to die once, despite it being my choice, was hard enough. Now I’m going to have to live through it again, in a completely different way. I’ve not worked out all the details yet, but what I have is that I’ll have to wither away.

  And I’m sure it’s painful.

  Choose to live, this diminutive voice whispers, and for a succinct moment, I allow myself to wonder what that would be like. Everyone seems to think I can do it, Tigerlily included. She and I have never been close, but we were friends, and I’ve always trusted her judgement.

  So why can’t I seem to do the same now?

  The next morning, I finally get to shower, something I’ve never been more thankful for in my life. After another night of tossing and turning, of ripping apart and dissecting every question possible that came to mind, I needed this.

  Desperately.

  I must have fallen asleep at one point, because I woke up to a modest, long sleeved nightgown placed neatly on the end of my bed. Not my style, but I was grateful for the fresh garment, rushing into the en suite bathroom without second thought.

  The water was positively scalding, exactly how I like it. So refreshing, almost felt like it was washing away every ounce of despair clinging to my skin.

  The darkness dripping in my soul.

  The venom waiting to take its hold.

  Not possible, I know. But it almost felt that way. If my wings hadn’t suddenly started twinging from scattered droplets, I probably would’ve allow myself to get lost in that daydream, a way to occupy my time while I wait to die.

  Surprised, are you?

  You shouldn’t be. My little chat with Tigerlily wasn’t going to change my mind. She made great points, but no.

  I can’t.

  I don’t want to.

  The choice was taken from me. Now, this is my reclamation, my way of not messing with fate or the balance of life.

  Knock, knock!

  “Tinksley, dear?” It’s that sweet, elderly woman again. She does nothing more than pop her head in. “Breakfast is ready.”

  Running my fingers through my damp hair, I smile. “I’m not hungry…What was your name again?”

  She smiles in return and those little lines near the corner of her mouth crinkle. “Violet.”

  “Violet, right. Well, I’m not hungry right now, but thank you anyway.”

  Her eyes widen and I note how she shoots upright behind the door. “But…The Captain. He’ll expect you to—”

  “He shouldn’t expect a thing from me and he knows this. We’ve already discussed it,” I interject softly. “I know you’re just doing your job, but please let him know I will not be present, likely for any meal he’s planning to attend. I don’t foresee myself being very hungry.”

  It’s right about then I realize she’s probably not used to hearing anyone defy Hook. The way she hesitates to respond corroborates it. “Oh. Um, okay. I’ll, uh—I’ll let him know.”

  “Thank you, Violet.” I smile once more, as innocently as I can manage.

  I won’t lie, I feel badly after the door shuts. I don’t want Callan chewing her head off, but here we go again with him thinking he can tell me what to do.

  He’s going to catch my drift if it’s the last thing I do.

  Today is not that day, though, because less than five minutes later, there’s another knock at my door.

  “Who is it?”

  The door cracks open. “Are you decent?”

  “For you? Never.”

  “Tinksley, I’m serious,” Callan growls. “Are you decent?”

  I should say no but… “Yes, Captain, I am.”

  I do nothing but blink and he’s inside my room, clicking the door shut.

  “I didn’t say you could come in.” I cross my arms.

  Callan rolls his eyes and steps in further. “My home, remember? I can do whatever the hell I want. I only knocked as a courtesy. You are my guest, after all.”

  “Awww, how sweet.” My hand meets my chest, eyelashes batting exaggeratedly. “I do appreciate the hospitality.”

  “Tinksley, you—”

  “Me nothing. You just said I’m your guest and I’m asking you to leave, so please get out.”

  Those dark brows of his furrow, highlighting the sharpness of his eyes. “No,” he grits.

  As if that was going to make me back down.

  “Do we really have to do this every time you barge in here? I asked you to leave, so leave.” I gesture to the doors.

  Hook chuckles and shoves his hands into his pockets, striding around the bed. “Your hunger is showing, you know that? And I don’t mean for food, love.”

  “You sure about that? Because I feel fine,” I fire back, lifting my chin proudly as he zeroes in on my space.

  “Are you sure about that? Sure you’re not feeling a small flame billowing in your throat, a mild chill slowly encasing your veins?

  “Not a thing.” A lie, because I do feel it now that he’s mentioned it, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. Aside from the way my eyes follow him, I don’t move.

  He circles around me, just like the predator he is. “Mmm, I see. Must be that Fae side working double time then, huh? You should probably eat, you know, to keep your stamina going.”

  The word stamina coming from his mouth makes me think about things I have no business thinking about. On a small gulp, I shake my head, not just to erase those images from my mind, but in answer to his offer, too. “As I told Violet, I’m not hungry, and I’m not going.”

  “You are, actually.” His cool, minty breath suddenly hits my cheek as he reappears within my line of sight. “If you’re not going to feed, at least eat something.”

  “What’s the point? I’m going to die regardless.”

  A smile touches his lips at the snip in my tone, but he doesn’t laugh. He simply leans in closer, gently running a finger along my bottom lip. “Has your mouth always been this smart?”

  “I’d like to think so, yes,” I muse, surprisingly confident given our proximity. I had no problem standing my ground when he was by the door, but now that he’s in my bubble, I feel weaker than a feather.

  I always do when he’s near.

  It’s a pattern I’m well aware of, one I’m starting to hate given I’m supposed to be nothing but angry with him.

  “How about if I ask nicer? Would that sway you?” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Will you please get dressed?”

  I flash him the slickest grin I can manage. “I am dressed.”

  “No, I mean something acceptable for the table, sweetheart.”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, I don’t live here. My clothes are at—”

  “Home. Yes, your old wardrobe is. I had Violet grab you a few things in town yesterday. They’re in the chest, all your size. She put them in there while you were bathing.” He holds a hand out to the chest of drawers a few feet away from us.

  My head jerks back in surprise. “What the hell? You had the poor woman go shopping for me?”

  “Violet didn’t go personally, Tinksley. Now stop averting and please get dressed. Everyone is already at the table,” he snaps, jerking my head back further.

  “Jesus Christ—will you stop telling me what to do?”

  “Will you just do as you’re told? It’s for your own good. I may not agree with your choice but I’m trying to make things comfortable for you as you prepare to go through this!”

  Oh...Well then.

  That’s a change of pace now, isn’t it?

  Arching a curious brow, I tilt my head aside. “Really now? Had a sudden change of heart, did you? What happened? Finally saw where you fucked up?”

  His reaction is instantaneous. Expression darkening, he takes another step into my space, the tip of his nose ghosting along my cheek. “Something like that. Now get dressed, please. I won’t ask you again.”

  Whether it’s that he’s left me
with no breathing room, or just the simple fact that he’s already worn me down and broken my armor, I concede to his demand with a hushed, “Fine.”

  And then I begin to undress, unbuttoning the top of the nightgown with deft fingers as I hold his penetrating, icy stare.

  “What are you—” he starts, only to cut himself off when he grasps what I’m about to do—namely, pulling the gown over my head. The man may be quick, spinning around on his toes, but I know he caught an eye full. “Fucking Christ, Tinksley…”

  “What’s wrong, Captain?” I snicker. “Never seen a naked woman before?”

  It’s not until he chuckles, his back rising and falling along with the thoroughly amused sound, that I truly comprehend how stupid of a question that was. His laughter both irritates and humiliates me all at once.

  “What’s so funny?” I bark.

  “Nothing,” he shakes his head. “Just get dressed.”

  Bossy bastard.

  Stomping over to the chest, I yank open the doors, pull out the first thing that catches my eye, and stuff myself into it.

  It’s actually quite pretty if I’m being honest. Very simple and comfortable; a thin-strapped blush pink dress that falls just above my knees. Not too loose, not too tight either.

  “There, dressed,” I inform him, smoothing my hands over the soft material. “Now lead the way.”

  Hook chances a peek over his shoulder, then tips his head gratefully when he sees I have, in fact, obliged. “Thank you.”

  I curtsy just to tick him off, to which he promptly rolls his eyes, signaling toward the doors.

  “Come on.”

  And I do. I follow behind him silently, making no move whatsoever to appear out of line. Until he crosses the threshold and steps into the hallway, pivoting around just in time to find the door closed in his face.

  Again.

  ♫ DISPOSABLE FIX - The Plot In You ♫

  The door literally grazes my nose, halting whatever I was going to say on the edge of my tongue. By the time I reach for the knob, she’s already secured the lock, clocking my annoyance up another notch or two. I can practically hear her chuckling, see that mischievous smile illuminating her face.

  Unfortunately for her, two can play at this game.

  Flashing into her room, I come to a stop just feet away from her, shooting a yelp out of her mouth.

  “What the hell?” she squeaks, eyes wide. “How did you…?”

  “You left me no choice, love,” I explain, stalking closer with determined strides.

  Every one of my steps forward is matched a step backward, until her back hits the same door she slammed in my face, again. Setting my hands on it’s cool surface, I cock my head aside and wait for her stare to meet my own. When it does, I note she gulps, too, though her expression is unreadable.

  “You really had me going, you know? I’ll give you that much,” I admit.

  “I told you I wasn’t hungry. Why should I have to sit beside you if I’m not going to eat?”

  “Who said anything about sitting beside me? You can sit wherever you’d like.”

  My response is met with a crack of silence, her mouth ajar, unsure of how to respond. “That’s besides the point. The point is I’m not—”

  “Hungry. I know, I heard you the first time.” I roll my eyes for added effect. “However, I’m calling bullshit on that. It’s been well over twenty-four hours since I brought you here. Who knows how long it’s been since you’ve actually eaten prior to that.”

  “Why do you care?” Her hands slam into my chest. “I said I’m not hungry and that’s—”

  “And again, you’ve left me choice. Up you go.” I’m hoisting her over my shoulder and stalking out the door into the hallway before she so much as processes it.

  “What in the actual fuck is wrong with you?” she screeches, pummeling my back with her tiny fists as I continue on down the corridor to the dining room, her legs flailing in front of me.

  It’s comical to say the least and I can’t help but chuckle. If she thinks she’s wiggling free from my hold, she’s highly mistaken. I could do this all day.

  “Put me down, goddammit!” The high-pitched shrill of her voice echoes around us.

  “I will, when we get to the dining room.”

  “Are you insane? You said the table is full. That’s humiliating!”

  “Wouldn’t be humiliating if you’d just followed me out as you led me to believe, but since you want to play bratty, childish games, I’ll have to treat you like a child.” I swat her pert little ass in warning.

  Another squeak, followed by a stymied groan. “I’m not a child, Callan! Put me down!”

  “Then stop acting like one, Tinksley. I’m only trying to help you and you keep—”

  “Help me? You’re trying to help me after you turned me into a—”

  “I’m well aware of what I did. You can stop repeating it now.” I turn the last corner before the dining room. Thank God no one is wandering the halls at this moment.

  “Why? Does it make you uncomfortable to hear the truth aloud?”

  I shake my head. “Not in the slightest.”

  “Then why—”

  “Hush, we’re here. I highly doubt you want everyone to hear you sassing me, like a child.”

  “I’m not a goddamn child!” she roars, tossing another fist into my back.

  “Then hush!” I set her onto her feet just outside the room and usher her in first, my hand firm at the small of her back.

  She moves willingly, but barely, taking the smallest steps known to mankind, which I’m sure is simply to press my buttons. Could also be that every single eye in the room is on us, or perhaps just that her mind is still in a whirl after being carried here like a wailing two-year-old. Obviously, I know she’s not a child, but if she wants to be a brat throughout this process, I’ll gladly demonstrate how I handle said bratiness.

  Looks like I won’t have to do much more for now, though. I almost laugh aloud when I note the only two chairs available are right beside one another, meaning she’ll have to sit next to me regardless. She has no one to blame for that coincidence but herself. Had she come with Violet, she could’ve taken her pick.

  Thankfully, she doesn’t protest when I pull out the seat for her. Instead, she thanks me with a simple tip of her head and drops into the velvety, crimson cushion. Soon as I’ve pushed her back toward the mahogany table, I take my own seat at the head and unfold my napkin with a flick of my wrist. “My apologies for making you all wait. Please do start eating.”

  Hums of appreciation resound as everyone begins to dig into their steaming, loaded plates. Large breakfast gatherings like this aren’t typically the norm, but I wanted to formally introduce the brood to Tinksley without the pressure an elegant dinner might have proposed. Tigerlily is present, as well. What I hope might be an added level of comfort given their friendship outside these walls.

  The boys are all eating, as is Tigerlily, clinking and clanking of silverware on ceramic renting the air. I’m about to do the same, lifting both my fork and knife, when I note Tinksley hasn’t moved. Not a thing on her plate has been touched, either.

  “Tinksley…” I murmur softly, harboring her attention in a millisecond. With nothing more than my eyes, I glance down at her plate expectantly.

  She sighs, loud enough for everyone to hear, and throws in one of those infamous eye rolls, too, but soon complies nonetheless. Setting the napkin on her lap, she stabs her fork into a slice of rich french toast and slices it with the knife in one fluid movement. I wait until a perfectly bite-sized piece makes it into her mouth before doing a sweep around the table.

  When my eyes collide with Sam’s at the other end, he sets down his utensils and wipes his mouth clean. “How about some introductions?”

  I hum. “I think that’s a great idea, Sam. Will you start things off?”

  “Of course.” He nods, clearing his throat. “Hi, Tinksley—it’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Samuel Smee, but eve
ryone just calls me Sam. I’m also Hook’s right hand man, so if you ever need him for anything, just give me a shout and I’ll track the broody bastard down, okay?”

  I cut my gaze to Tinksley, who’s clearly trying her damnedest not smile. She does nod, though, so at least there’s that.

  Emil wipes his mouth next, nearly half his plate already devoured. “Hey T—I’m Emil. We met very briefly at—”

  “N’Isabelle’s celebration. Yes, I remember you,” she answers flatly.

  Emil’s cheeks flush slightly at her tone. “Sorry about that, by the way. Anyway, I’m the techie around here. Well, one of them. Assad is pretty genius with a computer himself, so is Draegan. In any case, any questions you want researched, just let one of us know.”

  Assad, Armand, Kaz, and Malik all follow suit, each one divulging a small tidbit of information about themselves. Tinksley greets them all, offering small smiles here and there. At one point, I notice she’s eaten quite a bit, too.

  Leaning toward her, I impart such observations low enough only for her to hear. “So much for not being hungry, huh?”

  Tinksley eyes me through her peripherals and dabs the corners of her mouth with her napkin as she swallows another mouthful. “Well, what else am I supposed to do when everyone is eating? Sit here and watch them?”

  Grinning at her still on-going sass, I straighten myself in my seat. “At least tell me you’re enjoying it?”

  She sighs but briskly agrees, much to my surprise. “I am. It’s delicious, thank you.”

  “That’s because I had Draegan add a special ingredient.”

  “Like what, blood?” she quips sarcastically, shoveling a forkful of fresh strawberries.

  “Actually,” I pause, stabbing several strawberries of my own, “yes.”

  Those aquamarine irises flare as her eyes burst from their sockets. Two seconds later, she’s spitting out every morsel of food she had in her mouth. “Are you kidding me right now?”

  Despite how every set of eyes is, once again, on us, I smile. “On the contrary, I’m very serious.”

  Her silverware hits the plate with a clatter as she goes about wiping herself up. All the while, she’s glaring at me, too, eyes narrowed in that way I’ve grown familiar with over the last day. “So much for that change of heart, huh? Is anything that comes out of your mouth the truth, or do you just lie, cheat, and steal your way through life?”